Sleep was hard to find that night. When I woke up at ten minutes after four, I gave up the fight and went in search of coffee and Spotify. Ten minutes later I had hot brown water that was supposed to be coffee in a mug, my laptop on, and Hozier singing in the background. Sipping on the stuff in my mug, I began reading everything I could find on HIV. It wasn’t as dire as I’d thought it would be. Most people with the disease now lived long, productive lives, although there were still HIV-related deaths. Seemed a lot of the sites made sure to shout about that, because people seemed to think that AIDS had been magically eradicated or something. New HIV cases were slowly climbing, which was scary. I learned about the meds. Some patients took one pill a day, others a cocktail. One dude, diagnosed a year ago, with a low viral count, took none.
I watched videos online, listened to what people who had the disease and those who lived with and loved them had to say. I refilled my mug four times as the night gave way to the dawn, even though the brew tasted like water from a dirty goldfish bowl. Not that I ever tasted water from a dirty goldfish bowl as a kid or anything.
Trading hot brown water for food, I continued reading bent over a bowl of bran flakes with extra raisins. I read, and read, and then read some more. Then I took a shower, dressed, and drove to the Rader for morning skate. The vibe in that barn, and the dressing room, was electric. Everyone was up, pumped, ready to go into the playoffs for the first time in years. Lunch was Sal’s leftover chicken and rice, and I swear it was even better the second time. Then I changed into old jeans and a Mumford & Sons T-shirt and headed off to see Heather. She was a nurse. She could help me figure out what to do, answer any questions that were still rattling around inside my head.
When she answered my knock on her door, I was kind of shocked. Jack looked like he was in a bad mood, and Heather looked exhausted.
“Oh, hey, Augie,” she said, then yawned. She was still in her nursing scrubs. Her ponytail was all sorts of discombobulated. “What brings you over?”
Jack started fussing around three fat fingers jammed into his mouth. Heather bounced him on her hip. Dark bags lingered under her eyes.
“Is he sick?” I asked, nodding at the baby as drool ran out of him.
“He’s teething. I’ve gotten like thirty minutes of sleep in something like two days.” She yawned, and Jack tried to cram his fist into his mouth. “I was just going to take him for a ride. Maybe he’ll fall asleep. Want to come along?”
“Yeah, okay. You want me to drive? I’m not as tired as you look. Are. I meant are. You look good.” August, please stop making stupid words. Women don’t like to be told they look bad, doofus.
Heather smiled weakly just as her son started crying. “It’s okay, Augie, I know I look like death. Let me grab his bag.”
So, ten minutes later, with Jack buckled into the back of my Mustang in his baby seat, we pulled away from Heather and Brooks’ place.
“Is Brooks working or sleeping?” I asked. She reached out to turn down Hozier, then sat staring at me. I gave her a couple of quick looks. “What?”
“Sleeping. Why do you look so tense?”
Jack shouted angrily. Heather fished around in a huge quilted baby tote and extracted a blue rubber ring. I pulled up to a stop sign, gave the road to the right a quick peek, then watched her slip the ring into Jack’s mouth. He gurgled pleasantly, then started gnawing on his ring like a hungry wolf.
“I have some stuff on my mind,” I told her.
Her nose wrinkled, but she said nothing, just sat there with her tote on her lap.
“Which way?”
She pointed left. “Let’s head out to the country. It’ll be quieter. Hopefully he nods off soon. Car rides usually soothe him.”
“Sounds good.” The thought of heading anywhere that didn’t have paved roads made me feel at home. Off to the farmlands we went, my disquiet easing more and more with every civilized mile we left behind. “I’m sorry Jack is keeping you up. If I’d known I would have let you rest after work.”
Heather glanced from the rolling green countryside to me. Her eyelids looked heavy.
“It’s all good, Augie. I like hanging out with you. And this way Brooks can rest without the baby waking him up,” she replied around a yawn.
I hadn’t heard a peep out of Jack for about five minutes, so I assumed he had fallen asleep. The air coming in the windows grew cooler as we left Cayuga proper, so I rolled up my window, leaving it cracked just an inch or two, and Heather did the same.
“Let’s go down this road here,” she said. “Brooks and I came up here a couple weeks ago. There’s this petting farm about ten miles down the road. Jack just loved the sheep.”
I followed her directions. The dirt road was shaded by towering trees. The sun pushed early morning beams of light through the oaks and birches. My foot slid off the gas and we just sat there admiring the beauty of nature. Heather began rummaging around in her baby tote. I eased the Mustang forward a bit, crawling along at about twenty-five so as not to jar Jack when the tires rolled into a pothole.
“So, what’s up?” Heather enquired as she pawed around inside Jack’s bag.
“What do you think about dating someone with HIV?”
She pulled a pack of gum out of the diaper bag and offered me a stick. I declined, but she popped a slice of peppermint into her mouth.
“I think it’s perfectly okay. Is this about Sal?” she asked, and flipped her ponytail out of her face. I shot her a quick glance. She turned in her seat to look right into my soul. “He told me today that you and him were maybe going to see each other. Then he explained why there might be a snag.”
“Would you do it? I mean, would you date someone with HIV?”
We pulled up alongside a pasture filled with fluffy white sheep. I peeked into the rearview, then parked the car beside the fence. Jack didn’t make a sound, but the soft bleats of the sheep grazing bounced off the hills.
“Yes, of course,” Heather responded. “If Brooks were positive, I’d still be with him.”
“I’m just…uncertain, I guess. I mean, I really like him, and I think he likes me too.”
“Oh, yeah he does,” she said, and the smile she wore made me blush a little. “I know there’s a lot of stigma attached to HIV. It seems no matter how much progress we make medically, people still freak out about it. If you and Sal are careful, there’s no reason not to be with him if you’re attracted to him. But Augie, you have to be sure about this. Don’t go into it and then decide to pull out, so to speak.” She poked me in the side. I snorted loudly. Then she grew serious again. “Don’t lead Sal on. Either be with him or don’t. It’s crazy hard for seropositive people to find someone to date, especially in small towns like ours.” Her pretty face grew sad for a second, then shifted back to a less melancholy expression. “Sal is a super nice guy. You’re a super nice guy.” She stared out the window at the flock as it moved past, then yawned widely. “I can probably find some brochures at work, or maybe hook you up with a support group. We have one at the hospital for patients, but they probably have an off-shoot for family, friends and lovers. Whatever you decide, we’ll all still love you.”
I had never heard a girl beside my mother say that to me. Heck, I’d never heard a guy say that to me.
“I love you too.”
“You’re a good guy, Augie—you’ll do the right thing for you and Sal.” She leaned over, kissed my cheek, then settled back to watch the sheep.
“Thanks for talking to me about all this. I feel better.” I rolled down my window and stuck my arm out, trying to touch a sheep, but it was too far away. “I promise I won’t hurt Sal.”
Three sheep stared at me. I waited for Heather to say something. When she didn’t, I looked from the sheep to her and saw that she was sound asleep. So I sat there for two hours as mother and child peacefully snoozed, watching the sheep eat and thinking about the empty places in my life that Sal just might be able to fill.
Several days later, trying to be nonchalant about things, I stood outside his door, empty container in my hand, features schooled not to reflect how scared I was.
He looked shocked to see me on his doorstep. “Hey,” he said.
I held up the empty dish.
His gaze darted to the container, then back to me, a smile tugging at the corner of his sensual mouth. “Looking for a refill or something more?”
“Both.”
He stepped aside to let me enter. I paused just inside the front door, turning to look at him after he shut it.
“I’d like to have more,” I said, and held out the container like some sort of orphan in a musical.
“More what?” he asked, and I heard the uncertainty in his voice.
“More food and more you.”
“Are you sure, August?”
I nodded.
He gently took the container, his eyes locked with mine. “Are you one hundred percent sure? Maybe you should take more time. I’m not a prime dating candidate for you. I’m seropositive and I’m fifteen years older than you are. I can almost guarantee you that some of your friends are going to be against us seeing each other.”
“I don’t need more time and I don’t need friends who would be so judgmental. Yes, I’m one hundred percent sure. I’ve spent days reading, watching videos, and then reading more. I even talked with a medical professional. I know what I’m going to be facing—what we’re going to be facing.”
He tossed the container onto a small table at the end of the sofa. “We can never have unprotected sex. Ever. Not even once.”
“I know,” I said as want began pumping through my veins.
“If a condom breaks you could get infected.” He stared deep into my eyes.
“I know,” I replied. “I know all the bad things that can happen. I still want to date you.”
“No, you just think you know all the bad things, Aug. There’s so much you don’t know.” He sounded sad and weary.
“Then I’ll learn. Sal, I want to be with you, okay? I mean, if you don’t want to be with me, then that’s fine. I’ll just leave and you’ll never have to look at my dumb face ever—”
Sal stepped up to me without a word and pushed my back against the wall. A shocked grunt escaped me right before his mouth dropped over mine. He ran his tongue over the seam of my mouth. I let him in. He was powerful, possessive and hungry. His tongue slipped around mine as his hands found the edge of my shirt.
Breaking the kiss, he jerked my shirt upward, not caring that it caught under my chin. He just tugged harder to get the neckband free. Once the material popped free, he grabbed the shirt with both hands and held my arms over my head, the soft cotton keeping my hands off him.
“I should tell you to leave now, but I want you too bad to be noble,” he growled.
He captured my mouth again, this time letting his body lean in to me from chest to knees. My fingers slipped out of the T-shirt and I pushed them between his. Sal gyrated against me. His hard cock slid over mine. I sucked in a heated breath. He moaned, then began feasting on my neck, collarbone, and finally a nipple. He slipped his hands out of my grip and his palms, flat to my arms, slowly slithered downward.
“You like being sucked off?”
Sounds that were maybe words tumbled out of me. I thought to ask if any dude disliked a blow job, but then Sal groaned and flicked his tongue out to tease that wet nipple just a bit more. Talking seemed like a waste of time. He dropped to his knees. His hands followed, moving languidly over my sides, his fingertips dancing over my ribs.
I’d like to say there was all kind of romantic talk or floating hearts, but there really wasn’t. Just the sounds of my rapid grunts and groans, and then the purr of appreciation when Sal freed my cock from the snug denim. He gave my pants a hard pull to get them to my knees. I met his gaze and nearly came there and then. His tongue darted out to capture a drop of precum. He placed his hands on my thighs and dug his fingers into the flesh just as he sucked me into his mouth. My hips pumped forward. He gagged but took more. It had been a long time since I’d had a man’s mouth on me, or his hands. With little to no effort, Sal had me on the cusp. With a soft squeeze of my balls, I blew apart. When I could see straight, I looked down in time to see him using his tongue to clean spunk off his upper lip. His eyes glowed.
“Oh hell,” I moaned at the sight.
Sal got to his feet, then ground his mouth over mine. His tongue moved over my teeth and tongue, ensuring I tasted myself. I grabbed at his hips and jerked him back against me, crazed to have his heat and weight tight to my body again. After the kiss, he rubbed his bearded cheek against mine.
“You taste amazing,” he whispered, that talented tongue swirling around my ear.
“Maybe next time I can taste you?”
“No, never,” he said between long, lingering laps of my ear and neck.
“But the information says that it’s low risk and I—”
He pulled away so I could see his stony face. “It’s low risk, yeah, but it’s not no risk. You want to suck me off, I wear a condom. Always. Same as fucking. No bareback. Not even once. You still good with all this?”
He was deadly serious. I nodded, then kissed him hot and hard. And that was how it began. With a salty kiss, a soft nod, and an open heart.
Sal and I spent the next five days together, me at his house or him at mine, as our jobs allowed. He was like a wicked-sweet caffeine addiction.
We spent those days loving each other until Sal and I both literally crashed from exhaustion and slept for twelve hours straight after day three of running on three hours or less of sleep. Hockey and Sal were killing me, but what a way to go.
It had taken me about four days in his company to know that I was beyond attracted to him. I wondered if it was love that I was feeling. People would probably say it wasn’t, not after five days, but I can tell you this, it sure felt like it. We fit like jigsaw puzzle pieces, tight and perfectly aligned. He eased me into the world of flavored condoms with tremendous patience and humor. Sorry, but nothing should ever be banana flavored. Strawberry, yes, apple, for sure, and grape, hell yeah, but no banana condoms. Not. Ever.
We explored each other’s bodies between hours spent watching Netflix, playing video games, shooting hoops, cooking delicious and nutritious meals, and talking. Man, did we talk over those five days. We had yet to fuck, but that was okay. When the time was right we would. He was moving slowly for me, and that made me crave and desire him even more.
On the night before the Cougars were to meet at the Rader to catch our charter bus to Toronto to play the Comets, Sal and I were in his kitchen, making a vegan meal of green, yellow and red peppers stuffed with quinoa. My Canadian palate had come to adore the Mexican meals Sal prepared for me. The spices were new and heady, kind of like my first real romance.
Sal was talking away as we filled peppers about some book he had once read. I wasn’t much of a reader unless the story was science fiction. I got into those kinds of reads.
“It was an amazing journey of discovery this man went on. He started out researching Mayan civilizations for his own pleasure and then, somehow, discovered his true passion wasn’t working for an insurance company. It was writing articles for travel magazines. He walked away from a lucrative career as a high-ranking manager in a Fortune 500 company to write for a travel magazine about places he visits. All that after discovering he was HIV-positive.”
“That’s inspirational,” I said, and handed him a washed pepper to stuff. He gave me a tender smile. I leaned in to kiss him.
“Kind of like you,” he said.
I gave him another kiss just for being sweet.
“Maybe someday we can travel down to Mexico to visit the ruins in Pelanque.”
“That would be a great place to honeymoon,” I commented.
Sal gave me a look.
“What? Oh no, I don’t mean for us! I mean for some other two people who are like in that kind of relationship place. Shit. You know what I meant.”
“That’s what’s scaring me the most. After only five days, I’m starting to understand your funky Canada goaltender talk.” He continued chuckling while shaking his head.
“I’m glad someone gets me,” I muttered, then leaned a hip against the kitchen counter. “Can I give you a blowjob while we wait?” I lifted the last red pepper from the bowl and gave it to him.
“Here in the kitchen?” he asked, and I shook my head.
“Out in the living room, on the couch.”
“I might be losing it, but didn’t you give me a blowjob just this morning before we took a shower?” He spooned more filling into the pepper as he spoke.
“That was twelve hours ago,” I pointed out, then took a step to stand behind him. I put my hands on his hips and ground my erection against his tight ass cheek.
“Ah shit. I love the feel of your cock pressed against my ass,” he said while I nipped at his earlobe.
After the meal was in the oven, I pulled him to the sofa, pushed him down and kneeled in front of him. I could see his dick pushing against the fabric of his jeans. I leaned in, hands on his knees, and rubbed my cheek over his hard cock.
“August, yes, that’s so nice,” he purred as he slid his fingers into my hair.
Craving the sight and sounds of his orgasm, I unzipped and freed his cock. I glanced up to find him intently watching me. So I dragged my tongue up the back of his dick, my eyes locked with his. His jaw clenched as a rough, dirty growl resonated deep within his chest.
“So, so sexy. Put this on me.”
I wanted to complain but didn’t. He pulled the foil packet open and handed me the condom. His cock was fat and hard. The latex rolled down over it with ease.
My lips moved over the head of his cock, the sweet taste of grapes wetting my tongue. Sal let me do as I pleased, even though I could sense he was holding back. I didn’t want that, so I told him to fuck my mouth. His first reaction was to shake his head. The longer I worked him orally, the less rigid his stance on that became.
“Fuck my mouth,” I said again when he was close to losing his control.
His fingers tightened in my hair and he lurched his hips upward from the couch. The head of his cock slid down my throat. I choked and gagged. Sal cursed violently in Spanish, then began pumping in and out of my mouth. My eyes watered, but I hollowed my cheeks to entice him. He came with a loud shout while I shuddered in delight. I found it hard to imagine that any man could compare to him. His scent, the flavor of his mouth on mine, the way he spoke and moved. How he tangled me into a tight knot. Leaving the next day was going to be terrible.
“My God, August,” Sal huffed as I slowly milked him dry with my hand.
“I love watching you come,” I confessed, then unfolded my legs and stood up.
Sal got up and staggered like a drunk to the bathroom. When he returned and sat back down, I dropped to the couch beside him and wiggled down until I could rest my head on his shoulder. His chest rising and falling made me sleepy. My dick was hard, my pulse thudding dully all the way to my balls.
“I wish you could come up to watch the first two games of the series.”
“I do too, but I can’t get off work.” He reached for my crotch. A low moan rumbled up from deep inside me when he palmed my stiff dick through my shorts. “You never seem to get enough,” he teased while rubbing my cock.
“Just looking at you makes me hard,” I confessed.
Sal turned on the couch so that he was sitting sideways, his hand resting on my dick. The soft glow of the lamp reflected in his eyes. He stole a kiss, then another.
“Looking at you makes me wonder how I survived before you entered my life,” he whispered, then took another taste.
There was a gentle explosion of feeling inside my chest as his words sank in. Filled with emotion and expressions of devotion that should probably not be said so soon, I took his hand and pushed it under the waistband of my pants.
“Make me come,” I entreated as his fingers wrapped around the base of my dick. “Make me come so hard I forget about leaving here tomorrow and just hang here forever.”
“I’ll do my best.”
He did a fine job, but with the dawn I still had to leave. Not even his promises that we would talk daily helped make getting into my Mustang and pulling out of his driveway any easier. I could still taste Sal’s kisses when I entered the Rader parking lot. There sat our bus. I parked, grabbed my bag of freshly washed clothes courtesy of Mr. Salvatore Luis Castenada, and shuffled to the large silver bus idling by the players’ entrance. I handed my bag to an equipment manager and climbed onto the bus. Eyes on the floor, I headed to the back, where the rookies were supposed to sit.
“Hey, Augie, where the hell have you been?” Mario asked as I passed his seat.
“Just around,” I mumbled in reply.
He grabbed my hand and tried to tug me down into the seat beside him. “Everyone’s been trying to get ahold of you,” he said, then gave me a puzzled look when I shook his hand off. “You don’t have to sit in the back, kid. You’ve been up here with us vets since day one.”
“I’m good in the back.”
I returned to studying the floor as I made my way to the last seat by the bathroom. I flopped down and pulled out my earbuds, hoping to drive away the foul mood leaving Sal behind had put me in. Someone sat down beside me. I gave McGarrity a long look. He plucked my ear buds out of my ears. I lunged for them, and he simply ripped them from my phone and flung them toward the front of the bus.
“You suck,” I snarled, then crossed my arms over my suit jacket.
“And you’re sulking. What’s up with you, Augie?”
I turned my head to stare out the window. The bus began rolling. I saw Mario place a big work boot on one knee then fold his arms over his chest. It looked like he was settling in for the duration. I exhaled loudly, then looked right at my friend.
“I was with Sal the past five days, and leaving him sucks.” Mario shuffled around a bit, his jaw flexing and then relaxing, flexing and then relaxing, until I had to ask. “Do you have a toothache or something?”
“No, my teeth are fine—it’s your aches I’m worried about,” Mario cryptically replied as we pulled out of the Rader parking lot with a large bounce as the driver clipped a curb.
When I sat there looking at him stupidly, he rolled his eyes, then leaned to the side to try to keep the conversation just between us. With close to thirty men talking on the bus, I figured we were good to talk as long as we kept our voices down.
“Augie, don’t take this the wrong way.” I tensed, because whenever anyone starts out with that, you know they’re going to say something that will make you mad. “I like Sal, or what I know of him from the two hours we talked at Heather’s party.”
“But,” I supplied sharply. The bus lurched around a sharp left.
“But I don’t think you should be getting involved with someone so quickly.” I threw my attention to the window beside me while I tried to come up with a good argument. “It’s not that I don’t want you to have someone in your life, Augie, because I do. I just want that someone to be the right someone. This man…hell, what do you know about him? How much older than you is he?”
I mumbled Sal’s age.
“Would you try saying that without a load of shit in your mouth?”
“He’s thirty-seven.”
“For shit’s sake, Augie, he’s older than I am!” Mario snarled, then gave the bus a fast look to ensure no one had heard him.
“By one year. I like older men. If you remember, I kind of crushed on you when we first met. That was before I knew what a judgmental dickhole you are.”
“Aug, older gay men…well, sometimes they have a thing about tender young gay boys.” I sniffed at that stupid comment. “What do you really know about him?”
“I know that he’s kind, caring, a gentle lover, cooks like a restaurant chef, and is smart. I also know that who I fuck is not your concern.”
Mario gave me a blank look that actually set me back on my heels for a moment.
“Augie, don’t take that attitude with me, okay? I hear it every day from Langley, and frankly, you’re too old to pull off the sullen teen shit,” Mario snapped, then lowered his voice just a bit. “I’m not trying to make you be home by ten or telling you not to pierce your fucking nut sack. I’m trying to tell you that it’s not good to leap into something serious without playing the field a little.”
“You’re constantly on me to find someone and stop sitting around at home. So now that I do meet someone, you don’t want me to meet this particular someone. Is it because he’s Hispanic?”
“Are you really throwing that at me? The bisexual man who’s in a loving monogamous relationship with a black transgender woman?” He was incredulous. And now that he’d said it out loud, I knew how stupid the comment had been. “Yeah, I’m a racist. Yep. That’s me.”
“Sorry, that was dumb.”
“Yeah, it was. Stop talking out of your ass.” I felt really small, so I stared out the window. “And what I said was that you should date around, get to know who you are as a gay man. I didn’t want you to shack up with the first guy who sucked your dick. Did you ask him what his status is?”
That last one brought me up short. If I told him that Sal was positive, Mario would probably rip Sal apart. That reveal would have to come later. “We had the talk,” I said. “He told me I’m the first person he’s been this serious about for a long, long time.” Mario snorted really rudely. I threw a dirty look at him. “Don’t make him out to be a liar. You don’t know him like I do. I think something serious might be starting between us.”
The man threw his hands over his face and scrubbed so hard I began to wonder if he was trying to remove his nose. When he was done, he rolled his gaze to me. I wet my lips nervously.
“Augie, you can’t love a person after five days,” he said patiently. “It takes time to build a loving relationship. I can see that you’re really hot for the man, and maybe he is a good guy who cares about you for more than just that cherry ass of yours, but I highly doubt he feels the same as you do. You need to slow down, kid.”
“Why? Why should I slow down?”
“Because this man is your first lover, and you’re wound up in some immature fantasy about love, marriage, two adopted kids and a golden retriever, after five freaking days!”
The guys in front of us gave us weird looks between the high-backed seats. Heat raced up my neck to my cheeks. Great. Now they knew I was gay. I should just paint it on my forehead and be done with it. Man, sometimes Mario made me mad.
“It was three kids and a cat,” I replied sarcastically, which made McGarrity whip the back of his head against his seat fourteen times. It was something to see, really. He shoved to his feet, his kilt slipping down to cover his thighs and knees. “Where are you going?” I asked.
“I need to put some distance between us, or my head is going to blow the hell up. You,” he pointed a finger at me, “just sit there and mull over how dumb you’re acting.”
He stalked off, using the tops of the seats for balance. I rose to see where he sat, then fell back into my seat, my thoughts jangled. I reached up to tap Chris Mueller, a defenseman, on the shoulder. He looked back at me between the seats.
“You got any extra ear buds I can borrow?”
I sat back with Chris’s ear buds in and found a show on the Travel Channel site about the Mayan ruins of Tulum. And yeah, I mulled as we rode, but I never did come across one instance of me being dumb about Sal.