Tie a Red Ribbon

The Present

December 1st, 2020

I woke up this morning, with a pain so immense that it nearly forced me back into unconsciousness. I groaned and clutched at my stomach as I curled myself into a ball, fisting the blanket in my hands as I let the tears fall. To be fair, it's only been a year, yet every time Johnny visits my dreams I feel as though it's been a lifetime.

It's not fair.

Johnny, with his shining black curls and devilish grin. His perfectly carved eyebrows arching as he chuckles at a secret only, he knows. He dances through my dreams, always forcing me out of some seat in the corner of a bar and spinning me this way and that, his hands on my hips, begging me to keep the beat.

Johnny.

The Beginning

I was an awkward, overworked medical assistant who'd stopped by a local Irish pub for the strongest drink on the menu. It was a Friday night, and he was the most talkative, and energetic bartender I'd ever met.

"We got plenty of strong drinks baby, I asked you what you want to drink."

Two vodka cranberries and one whiskey shot later, I had completely forgotten about the twelve hours of work I’d just finished, and the piles of schoolwork I still had to finish that was laying on my coffee table at home. I had been completely taken in with the funny, and handsome bartender in front of me. He flirted with the singles, laughed at the douche bags, and did therapy sessions with the depressed all while shaking his hips and mixing drinks. Due to low staff, he’d even taken out a few trays for the kitchen, sneaking chicken wings and French fries as he winked at me.

His charismatic and quick-witted comebacks to the homophobic comments were riveting, and they impressed me.

I should have taken notes.

I mean sure, I was out of the closet…kinda.

It must’ve been written on my face, my homoerotic thoughts for the sexy Latina with the messy curls sitting next to me. Her eyebrows arching quizzically as she plopped on a stool next to me, asking what I was drinking that had me smiling so much.

My face burned.

I was completely caught off guard by her question, inwardly panicking all of a sudden, quietly thanking God that I had decided to switch from my work scrubs, to a flannel shirt and jeans.

“Uh…erm…vodka cranberry.” I said lamely, as she smirked and nodded.

“I like your smile.” She said as she ordered two of what I had.

I desperately thought of something to say, furious I hadn’t prepared for this. Well, duh. Of course, I hadn’t prepared for this. I hadn’t been laid in over a year, and with work and class keeping me busy, the only women that graced my presence were over sixty and had cataracts. The smell of cologne drifted near me as someone whispered in my ear.

“Her name’s Josie, she’s a regular. Bisexual, Puerto Rican…works at the bank across the street. Wildcat, needy. Perfect for a lonely night. By the way, my name’s Johnny.” The bartender whispered, as he quickly flitted past me, grinning with satisfaction.

I stared at him in awe, until he rolled his eyes and mouthed, “talk to her!” as I shook my head and turned back to her.

“My name’s Meka and thank you. I like your dress…” I said as Josie grinned and shook my hand.

It was an awesome night, Josie and I drank, danced, and giggled like schoolgirls as we drunkenly told embarrassing stories over a shared pile of cheese fries. Before I knew it, the bar had emptied, and it was close 1am. After exchanging numbers, I asked Josie if she was okay to drive home, and she let me know she only lived three blocks away. Still, I insisted that I walk her halfway, just to make sure she was safe. She smiled and nodded, as we paid, left a hefty tip for Johnny, and made our way outside.

We walked and talked slowly, exchanging numbers, horoscope info, and seeing if we had any of the same days off from work.

“Thanks for walking me home and making me laugh” She said as she leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. I was shocked, standing there like an idiot as I watched her run the rest of the way home, holding her purse over her head as she tried to avoid the rain that had started.

I rubbed my cheek and smiled, my confidence suddenly boosted as I turned on my heels and headed back toward the bar. As I turned the corner towards the parking lot, I noticed Johnny humming and counting tips as he stood under the roof at the back of the bar. I walked up to him excitedly, happy I hadn’t missed him leaving.

“Hey, thanks a lot…for ya know…” I said awkwardly. Suddenly shy again, as he looked up at me.

He grinned.

“No problem, how’d it go?” He asked as he wiggled his pierced brows at me.

I laughed as I moved closer to him, taking shelter from the rain that had started to come down harder.

“Well, I walked her home, got her number, and a kiss on the cheek. I’m sure I’ll see her again.” I said happily.

“Just like a true gentlewoman” He responded.

We talked for a while, and I noticed he kept looking up and down the parking lot.

“Are you waiting for your ride?” I asked him.

He nodded as an annoyed look spread across his face.

“I texted her twice, but she most likely forgot about me, I can take the bus”. He said finally as he zipped his coat and pulled his hood up.

“Girlfriend?” I asked. He pretended to vomit as he shook his head at me.

“Vagina? Never. No, it’s my older sister. She works as a security guard for the mall, and she usually picks me up, but sometimes she falls asleep.” He shrugged.

I nodded as I carefully choose my next words, I didn’t want to scare him off, but I also didn’t want him standing in the rain.

“So, uhm…if you want, I could drive you? Not a problem for me, I’m sobered up. Besides, it’s raining, and I don’t want you to get soaked. And don’t worry, I am not a serial killer!” I said with my hands up in front of me.

Johnny paused, looking me over before he smiled.

“Sure, if you want. I live like twenty minutes from here, but I get to control the radio.” He said with a serious look as I led the way to my car.

“No problem”. I replied, trying to hide my glee. I didn’t know what it was, but this guy was just so much fun. In his presence, I didn’t feel like a loser, or a freak. He made me feel like everything I had to say was important somehow. The car ride was slow going, due to the monsoon, and we had to pull over a few times. He laughed as he poked fun at my messy backseat, filled with books, blankets, scrubs, and food wrappers.

“You’re so cute” He preened as he searched through my glove compartment, pulling out magazines, random pictures of family, and a picture of my ex with a giant red “X” crossed over it.

“Ahh, a scorned baby dyke, freshly out of the closet.” He said as he smirked at me.

My mouth dropped open.

“How did you know that!?” I asked surprised.

“Duh…the pictures, notes, and for god sake your shirt is way too big and should be burned.” He laughed as I winced, he had a point.

“Go easy, I’m still learning…” I said, a bit insecure.

His toned changed as he turned towards me, his brown eyes watching tentatively as he curled his legs underneath him in the seat.

“You a nurse?” He asked

“Nah, medical assistant. I work for an Ophthalmologist, I’m in school still, trying for a bachelor’s degree in Psychology” I said.

“Cool, you’ll be a shrink” He said. I rolled my eyes and chuckled.

“You’re single?” He asked.

“Yep, and I prefer it like that for now. I’m…not good in relationships.” I said, the finality in my voice letting him know I wasn’t interested in delving too deep into the topic. He nodded as he continued to watch me.

“I’m single too, my ex died three years ago” He said.

“I’m so sorry” I responded, alarmed.

He laughed as he shook his head.

“Nah, don’t be. He was trash” He said simply as he fiddled with the radio. Finally settling on B101, with Tom Petty’s “free falling” blasting through the speakers.

“I love this song!” I said loudly as I sang along.

Johnny tapped the cigarette he lit out the window and smiled with surprise.

“What about Joan Jett, Tracy Chapman, Chicago?” He asked.

I nodded.

“Cyndi Lauper, Melissa Etheridge, Stevie Nicks?” I asked.

He jumped and clapped in his seat happily.

“Ooh, we’re gonna be best friends!” He squealed as I laughed.

That was the start of a beautiful friendship that lasted over 7 years.

The Good Years

From that day on, Johnny became one of my closest friends. And not the type of friend that spends the night during a bad breakup, or the one you call when you can’t figure out what to wear. Johnny and I weren’t just two fags who met in a bar and happened to like the same music. In fact, we were more like mismatched misfits liked to meet up after work, or on a free weekend and listen to music in the car, while eating Cheetos and smoking weed.

He wrote poetry, and liked to make jewelry in his spare time, meticulously threading beads onto thin wires, snapping at himself when got the color sequence wrong. We had writing in common, and sometimes we would read what each other wrote, and try to guess the feelings that prompted us to write them. Both of us gentle in our criticisms, but firm in our differing opinions. He, a white-passing gay male, with flawless skin, several self-designed tattoos, and perfect hips. And I, a black lesbian, with more insecurities than I could count, one of them being my weight. Sure, I had a pretty smile, knew how to style my hair, and could sing pretty well when I felt like it.

But Johnny was just…different. He had a self-awareness that carried him far above most of the people on this planet. He talked about things I was too afraid to bring up myself around most of my friends. We talked about sex, religion, sinners, and saints. We talked about mental health and addiction, realizing we had more in common than we thought we did.

We were both former drug addicts, each in our own stage of recovery. Johnny was very direct and open regarding his addiction.

“it’s the rush, you know?” He said.

“Like a runaway freight train in your veins, and it’s racing down a hill, going so fast you feel like you might be sick. But then, at some point, the train gains control and it just starts cruising, and soon you’re just breezing, sailing.” He said.

There was no shame in his voice, no discomfort. Just hard facts, and truth. He knew what he did was wrong, but he liked it, even thought it terrified him.

But that’s just how he was, how are friendship was. Cold, hard facts with no bullshit, and sometimes it made talking to him exhausting, but I loved him.

Positive

One night, as I waited outside the bar for Johnny to get off of work, I noticed he was late and that was unlike him. Johnny liked to clean up, cash out, and clock out as soon as he possibly could. But as I looked at the clock, I wondered if his boss had asked him to stay later.

No sooner had I thought about it that Johnny was standing at the passenger side window, startling me as I reach over to unlock the door.

“It’s fucking freezing!” He exclaimed as he jumped in the front seat and slamming the door. He immediately put his hands near the vent, rubbing them together as he desperately tried to take away the winter chill. It was January, and the snow and ice covered roads made me anxious as we rode slowly towards home. Johnny coughed, covering his mouth as he searched his bookbag for some tissues. I didn’t think too much of it until his coughing became a hacking, grating noise, and I glanced over at him.

“Jesus, are you alright? That cough sounds horrible” I exclaimed as I handed him a few tissues from my pocket. I slowly pulled the car over to the side of the road as Johnny coughed and wheezed, opening a bottle of water, and sipping slowly as he clutched his chest. I waited, not sure what to do, concern covering my face as I gently placed my hand on his back.

“I’m…I’m okay” Johnny gasped as he looked at me with watery eyes. His expression was tired, his skin pale and slight bags lined the underside of his eyes. He looked really sick, and I considered taking him to a hospital.

“I told you to buy heavier coat! It’s too cold out here, you’ve probably got the flu!” I said in frustration as I looked him over and put my hand to his forehead. He grinned as he pulled my hand down, kissing my palm as he always did.

“Don’t baby me” He said as I rolled my eyes.

“If I don’t, then who will?” I retorted. Johnny shook his head, his expression suddenly changing into one of concern. His eyebrows furrowed, and he chewed at his already chapped lips.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’m sick, Meek.” He said.

I nodded as I turned in my seat, reaching to search the floor of my car for some cold medicine.

“I’ve got Tussin, Benadryl…” I said as I read off the medications I had finally found.

“No, I mean I’m really sick, Meek. I’m HIV positive” He said quietly.

What the hell did he just say?

Was he joking?

I quickly turned back in my seat, nearly causing whiplash as looked him in the eyes.

“What?” I asked back, the shock on my face evident.

“I’m HIV positive, that means—”

“I know what it means!” I said sharply, not taking my eyes off of him.

He hunched his shoulders, avoiding my glare as he shifted in his seat.

“We’ve been friends for three years! Why wouldn’t you tell me?” I asked, hurt and anger making my voice louder than intended.

I could see his eyes filling as he played with his fingers, his voice shaking as he tried to explain.

“You’re was safe, I would never put you in harms way! I promise. Look, I only found out two years before I met you, and honestly, I hadn’t even accepted it myself. I take my meds, I try to exercise, my doctor says I need to eat less junk food but fuck that.” He said, tears falling as he looked up at me.

I rarely saw Johnny cry. Even when I’d been invited to his mom’s house for thanksgiving and his dad wouldn’t even look at him.

He hates me because I’m a gay. He had said as we smoked a cigarette on the back porch, while we waited for dessert. But he didn’t cry.

But now he was. He was crying, bawling as he curled up in the seat, wrapping his arms around him.

“My ex, I think he might’ve been sick even before we started using.” He sniffed.

“He didn’t tell me until it got bad, and I decided to get tested. We had broken up by then, but it still fucked me up, because I knew. I just knew it in my gut that I was positive.” He said

My sniffles joined his as I pulled some more tissue from my pocket.

“My family knows, I think that’s another reason Dad won’t talk to me. I bet he thinks I deserve it, I deserve to die because I’m a fag!” He cried as I shook my head angrily, tightening my grip on his hands.

“Fuck him! That’s not true, and you’re not going to die. Things are different now, the meds are different, and they understand the disease more. You’re not going to die.” I said defiantly as I wiped my tears.

I pulled him to me and rocked him. And we cried and cried.

The Fight

We sat for hours in the car, eventually pulling into my apartment parking lot. I didn’t want him out of my sight and begged him to stay a few nights at my house. My mothering and medical skills being put to the test as I took care of him. I made him soup and tea, let him watch all his novellas and trash television. He took some time off of work, resting in my bed while I stayed up late after work, and researched clinics and support groups. His coughing fits lessened, but his fevers got worse, and I eventually rushed him to the hospital.

Johnny was diagnosed with pneumonia and was treated at the hospital for several days. While there, we also found out his T-cell count was low.

After work, I would drive to the hospital to visit him, along with other family members and friends. Thankfully, the hospital found a support group for him in the city, not only for HIV/AIDS support, but also for his mental health and addictions also. It was slow going, getting Johnny to accept his disease, and to work through it instead of running from it. The process took its toll on our friendship, causing outbursts and arguments. My own issues needing to be dealt with, and the possibility of a new love in my life causing separation and strain. Unsaid words and hurt feelings caused us to slowly stop seeing each other as much. After Johnny completed treatment at rehab, he moved back home with his parents, at his mother’s insistence.

I did my best to keep in contact, but something in Johnny had changed. He was like a caged bird, fighting to get out. Nothing satisfied him, and he raged within himself, and against anyone who tried to show him affection. He didn’t talk to me as much, and sometimes I would lay on his bedroom floor, just wishing he would say something, anything. And one day, he finally did.

“I’m moving to California” He said quietly.

My heart dropped. I felt the tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I held them in.

“How are you gonna survive?” I asked.

“I’ll find a job. There’s plenty of bars out there.” He said.

“What about a car?” I asked.

“Dad’s giving me the van, he wants me out of here anyways.” He responded curtly.

“Dammit, Johnny. Why?” I asked as I sat up and wiped my face. He turned and looked at me, his face determined.

“I want something different. I wanna travel and see new things besides shitty ass, small town Pennsylvania. I’ve always wanted to go to California anyways, I’ve got money saved up and I promise I’ll take my meds” He said as he reached out to wipe my eyes.

“Hotels will eat that money right up!” I said.

“I’ll sleep in the van, tough it out. I’ll be fine, sleeping under the stars” he said.

I hated this. The optimism, the finality of his decision. He was leaving.

“But, what about me?” I asked selfishly, my eyes filling again.

“Baby, you’re gonna be alright. You’ve got other friends, ones that treat you better than I can right now. You’re strong, independent, and know what you want, you’ve even found love. I have to get out of here, I can’t do this kinda life. I’ll keep in touch.” He said simply as he laid his head lazily against my shoulder.

No, you won’t, I said to myself. The hurt battling the empathy I had for him, as I let the tears fall.

“We’re all just winging Meek, none of us really know what hell we’re doing, it’s just a free fall.” He said.

One week later, Johnny was gone. He packed two bags, his notebooks, computer, and cell phone, and drove off in the middle of the night. He called every now and then, saying he was staying at this hotel and that. I would sit on the phone for hours while he would describe his sights, and the new people he had met, how different the air smelled or how much bigger the stars looked.

I missed him, and I was always eager to receive an email, usually with a picture attached, of wherever he was. Longingly looking at the pictures, a mixture of sadness and envy all bottled into one, making my stomach hurt. Eventually, the calls became less, and the emails slowed. Our correspondence becoming quick and short emails, once every two or three months, sometimes even less. I stopped missing him as much, stopped waiting for responses I knew wouldn’t come. I kept in contact with his siblings, and prayed, that Johnny was alright, and happy wherever he was.

Six Years Later

It was another horrible winter, I was working of course, pulling a late shift at the nursing home reception desk. I stretched and yawned as I glanced at the clock, my eyes were heavy and all I wanted to do was go home and climb into my warm bed. I sighed, turning back to my computer screen, desperate to finish up the last bit of accounts payable invoices for my boss before I locked up for the night. My phone dinged and I looked at the screen, absentmindedly clicking on the notification and stopping short as I recognized the email address at the top of my screen.

My hands shook as I read through the email quickly.

It was Johnny.

He was home.

He wanted my number, he wanted to speak to me. I quickly replied my new phone number and sent the email. Anxiously turning back to my computer screen, flying through the rest of the invoices as a smile played on my face. My mind spinning with excited thoughts, as I sent the batch of emails to my invoices to my boss’s email and shut down my computer. Keeping my phone on the charger, I ran around the lobby, locking doors, closing blinds, and discarding any trash left in the lobby. My spirit was suddenly full of joy, I had a renewed energy coursing through me as I grabbed my hat, coat and purse off the desk and set the alarm as I ran to my car.

It was freezing, and I nearly collided with my car door in the parking lot, as I made my way carefully across the ice covered ground. I rubbed my gloved hands together, blowing into them as I sat in my car, and waited for it to warm up. Once the heat got going, it was a lot more comfortable and I reached for my phone just as a text message popped up.

‘I missed you. So very much. call me asap.’

I couldn’t quite breathe normally, and I realized I was holding back hard sobs as I forced myself to calm down and slowly pulled out of the lot. When I got home, I sat on my bed, legs crossed, as I called Johnny’s number. I anxiously fiddled with my sheet as I waited for him to pick up, and on the third ring I heard him.

“Meka, my baby” He said, his voice sounding deeper, more controlled.

That was it, the dam broke.

The tears came and I sobbed as I laid back on the pillow and had my moment. He chuckled on the line, but I could hear the mutual tears in his voice.

“Now come on, get past it. You’re messing up my mascara!” He said as I laughed loudly.

I sniffled and gathered myself.

“When did you get back?” I asked finally.

“Last night, dad paid for the trip” he said, as I sat stunned.

“Your dad?” I asked.

“Yup, can you fucking believe that? Only took him six years to come around. But yeah, we’re talking again.” He laughed.

We spent the next three hours updating each other on life, loss, and adventures. There was so much laughter and tears, and for a moment nothing existed in the world, except us.

“Hey, Meka…I’m sorry for leaving like I did. I was just…trying to figure this shit out.” He said quietly, his voice full of guilt. The silence was deafening as once again, I fought for something to say.

“I can’t completely understand exactly what you were going through, but I can understand why you would want to leave. It’s been really hard, adulting and shit without you, but I thought about you all the time, and I worried, I just…wish I could’ve taken away your pain.” I said sadly.

He laughed, surprising me.

“My beautiful friend, always trying to heal or take care of somebody. Listen, we’ll talk again soon but I know you have to work in a few hours, so you need to sleep. I promise, I won’t go anywhere, and maybe we can video chat tomorrow night?” He asked as I agreed.

After we hung up, I fell into a peaceful sleep.

Video chatting with Johnny was so cool, and it made so happy to be able to see his face again. He had let his facial hair grow in, and it suited him. He got rid of most of his facial piercings except for his nose ring, and he had a lot more tattoos and scripts covering his arms. It didn’t take me long to notice though, that he had also lost a significant amount of weight, and when he laughed, sometimes it looked like he was in pain. The eyeliner couldn’t hide the fact that he looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in weeks. I kept the concern the crawled in the pit of my stomach at bay, and just focused on our conversations. He was home, Johnny was home and that’s all that mattered.

As the weeks wore on, our conversations went deeper, and he opened up to me more.

“Hey babe, I wanna tell ya something” He said one night, as we video chatted.

“It better be that you’re outside my house, waiting for me” I said as I peeked out the window. He laughed softly and shook his head.

“We’ll see each other soon, I promise. But seriously, I have something I wanna talk to you about” he said.

I sat down on my bed and waited patiently for him to speak.

“I didn’t just come home because I missed everyone, I came home because I’m really sick.” He said.

I didn’t say anything, but that horrible fear in my stomach was slowly creeping up into my chest.

He sighed and continued; it was like it took all his strength just to speak.

“And I’m tired of treatments, medications, experimental or not. I didn’t just stay in Cali, I traveled all over the US and Mexico, looking for something, anything to fix me…heal me. I just couldn’t handle it, the idea of an incurable virus just sitting in my body, festering.” He said.

“But the medicines, they have something new now where—”

“No. it won’t work, I have cancer.” He said firmly.

His matter-of-fact tone angered me.

“The meds just lengthen it, make it more manageable. One of the doctor’s I was seeing in LA told me that my body isn’t responding well anymore; it’s rejecting treatment.” He said.

“I’m listening, I hear you…” I said sadly.

“I figured, I wanna be home with family and friends when the time comes. Cause it’s coming, I can feel it. I’m dying, and I want to be at home.” He finished.

There it was. Reality. Smacking me in the face over and over as I tried my best to comprehend what he was saying. Finally, after a long silence, I spoke.

“What can I do? How do I support you through this?” I asked. Realizing that this wasn’t about me, or about our lost years, or about how I didn’t want him to die. This was about respecting his wishes, it was about how he wanted the time he did have, to be spent.

Free Falling

I never got to see Johnny, not in person anyways. That winter home was hard on him, and only week after he told me he was dying, he was admitted into the hospital. During this time, the Coronavirus was just starting to get really bad in the United States. At first, most of the lives lost were the elderly, then the immunocompromised. Working at a nursing home, I didn’t have much time to really process much except keeping my residents safe. Every day was like a never ending nightmare, we wore our PPE, cleaned, and sanitized as much as we could, wore our masks and stopped allowing in visitors. But it didn’t work, the virus got in, and when it did, all hell broke loose.

One by one people fell ill throughout the building, and not just our beloved residents safe. In between 12 hours shifts, I made sure to check on Johnny, who was making jewelry and watching novellas in the comfort of his hospital room.

“This whole thing is insane” I complained one night, as we discussed the pandemic over video chat.

“I don’t know, I kinda find it ironic. I mean, it’s not like AIDS isn’t a pandemic. Nobody seems to give a fuck about that. Before I left, it’s like those who found out about me in that shitty little town treated me like I had the plague, wouldn’t talk or come near me.” He said, as I wearily nodded.

“I come back home, and a real plague is on the loose, and everyone is untouchable, not just us” He smirked.

“Everything is shutting down; I just hope it helps. Are the nurses treating you well? How are you really feeling today? Are they wearing masks?” I raddled off the questions at him, my anxiety growing at the thought of him getting yet another virus.

“Relax, I’m fine. I’ve dropped another six pounds and my hair is thinning, but I think I can make it work.” He said grinning, as I looked him over. His pale, sallow face looked gaunt, his hands shook sometimes and the glasses on the tip of his nose made him look like an old man.

“Seriously, I’m alright. No virus can be as bad the one I’ve got now. Besides, I think the food here will kill me before this does.” He said in disgust as I giggled.

“I love you Johnny” I said.

“I love you too dimples” He said back.

“We’re free falling baby” he said

Four weeks later, Johnny died.

The Present

As I sat on the edge of my bed, my eyes swollen with unshed tears, I fiddled with the red ribbon tied around my wrist. This was okay, I told myself. Johnny wouldn’t care if I’m crying today, as long as I wasn’t just crying for him, he wanted me to cry for all of them. For everyone who was lost or had lost someone to HIV/AIDS.

On this day, December 1st, the world acknowledges and pays respect to the victims, to the advocates. It’s silly really, World AIDS Awareness Day. People should’ve been aware decades ago, people should’ve cared and responded then, maybe things would’ve turned out differently, who knows. All I know is that they deserved better, and those still living with HIV deserve better. They deserve to know they’re not alone, that they’re untouchable, and there’s nothing wrong with them. Johnny was my friend, my companion, a light in some of my darkest hours. I miss him, and I pity those who never got a chance to know and love him. I talk about him, I write about him, and I'll be a voice and advocate for him and others like him for the rest of my life.