Chapter 22
The follow-up visit with Chris McCracken on Tuesday eased many of Hernán’s concerns. Blood tests showed his viral load was low, and that he should have no problem with the antiretrovirals. Chris passed Hernán his prescription.
Colin took his hand. Knowing what was coming, Hernán felt his ears burn. Colin’s cheeks pinked up, too, but he managed to say, “Chris, can we talk about sex now?”
Chris’ eyes twinkled but he kept his face serious as he nodded. “Of course. Even with good numbers like yours, Hernán, it makes sense to take precautions for now.”
“For now?” Hernán asked, puzzled.
“Once the antiretrovirals have a chance to work, it’s likely your viral load will become undetectable. Once that happens, the chance of you being able to transmit the virus becomes almost nil.”
“Almost,” Hernán stated back flatly.
“Well, I can’t responsibly say that it’s zero. As far as safe practices, I’d keep using condoms for now if you have anal intercourse. Oral transmission is extremely unlikely.”
Colin blushed as he asked, “You mean if I, uh, receive orally or anally, I assume?”
“Right. There’s no risk at all if Hernán swallows your semen. I’d also say there’s no measurable risk if you penetrate Hernán without a condom, barring something like an open cut on your penis.”
Hernán was sure his eyes bugged at the frank discussion. He’d never been around people able to discuss sex so casually. He understood what Chris was telling them, but he couldn’t help worrying that Colin would still be at risk.
To Colin, he said, “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that. Even if the chances are practically zero, I don’t know if the risk to you is worth it.”
“What about PrEP?” Colin asked the doctor. “Is there a downside if I go on preventive treatment?”
“It can cause kidney problems in a few percent of people, so we need to monitor that periodically. Otherwise it is a pretty benign drug. I’ll give you a prescription if you want. Give it a week and then you should be effectively immune.
“I remind everyone, though. Truvada will prevent the transmission of HIV but not other sexually transmitted diseases. If you’re monogamous that shouldn’t matter. If you’re with other partners, use condoms.”
Colin gripped Hernán’s hand tightly and smiled at him. “That won’t be an issue.”
They left the doctor’s office and went to a nearby pharmacy. Hernán came to a halt outside the doors, the paper in his hand trembling.
He knew he needed to fill the prescription, but he didn’t know how much it was going to cost. No insurance, and he had less than a thousand dollars left after having sent money to Rudy. There was simply no way he could afford a full month’s supply of the medication. Perhaps the pharmacy would let him get a partial prescription, and he could come back when he had more money—
Colin put a hand on his arm, startling Hernán from his reverie. He looked up into earnest, concerned blue eyes.
Softly, Colin said, “I’m not trying to show off or impress you about money. You get that, right?” Hernán nodded. “I just feel like you should understand something.” He leaned close to whisper a very large number in Hernán’s ear, and Hernán’s jaw dropped. When he pulled back, their eyes locked.
“That’s how much is in my trust fund. I know. It’s ridiculous. I take control of the whole fund when I turn thirty. In the meantime, I get the interest and dividends from all that money in quarterly checks. Even that’s far more than I need to live on. I could never spend so much on myself in a lifetime, so I do a lot of other stuff with it. I support a number of charities, and I give scholarships when I meet someone at the center who I believe deserves a boost. If I want to spend some to keep my boyfriend healthy, is that so bad?”
Hernán blinked nervously and released a sigh. “Of course not.”
“I know it’s weird, angel. It’s just who I am, and how I grew up—with a lot of money. But I’m not Nimble. I’m not trying to control you or confuse you or buy you. And please don’t suggest you’re taking advantage of me. Honestly, I’ve encountered people all my life who think I’m an easy mark, so I know you’re nothing like that. Tell me how I can help you get comfortable with letting me pay for your medication.”
Hernán looked down. Colin barely heard him whisper, “It’s just…hard. To accept help. To need help.”
“I promise, I’ll help you look for ways to reduce the costs going forward. There’s an AIDS Drug Assistance Program, though I’m not sure whether you’ll qualify until you’re granted asylum. I’ll check that for you. Today, though, please let me pay.”
Hernán hugged him. His voice was thick when he said, “Thank you.”
David James had returned from his honeymoon, and Sofia contacted them to schedule a second meeting about Hernán’s case. She said to Colin, “I’ve figured out how to have you in the meetings without waiving attorney-client privilege. I’ll explain when we get together.”
Wednesday afternoon, Sofia and David greeted them in a conference room. Hernán hadn’t met David in Provincetown so they shook hands before settling down around the conference table.
David said, “I’d like to address something right away.” His gaze took in both Hernán and Colin. “My husband Brandon is Colin’s best friend. I assure both of you that anything we discuss in the context of your representation will be strictly confidential. I don’t tell Brandon about my cases except in the most generic terms, and he doesn’t ask. But if it makes either of you uncomfortable, I can find one of my partners to guide Sofia, and I’ll drop out. I won’t take any offense, I assure you.”
Colin glanced at Hernán, expectantly. Hernán shrugged and answered for both of them. “I have no concerns with you keeping my case, David.”
With that, Sofia addressed them. “Let’s discuss privilege first. Colin, you have significant expertise in asylum and similar immigration issues, I believe.”
Colin nodded. “Well, yes. As a matter of fact, I’m leading a team now to lobby specifically about asylum issues. I’ve spent a lot of time recently understanding the development of various interpretations of legal terms used in applying the standard.”
“You also have in-depth knowledge of the situation for LGBTI individuals in various Latin American countries,” David commented. “When you and I handled that project with Joe a few months ago, you were a tremendous resource.”
“Thank you, but what does that have to do with privilege?” Colin asked.
Sofia said eagerly, “We—the lawyers—would like to retain you as a consultant on Hernán’s case. Your knowledge base will be directly relevant. We might even need to call you as an expert witness, depending on how matters develop. As a consultant to Hernán’s attorneys, we can include you in strategy discussions about his case without blowing the privilege.”
“Huh,” Colin mused. “That’s clever. Of course I’ll donate my time since you’re doing the project pro bono.”
“Excellent. We’ll prepare a simple engagement letter for you to document your role. In the meantime,” Sofia said with a grin, “consider yourself on the clock. Let’s get started.
“Hernán, we’ve reviewed the legal options open to you. You’ve told us your parents and your brother don’t have green cards themselves, so they aren’t able to sponsor you. Your uncle and your cousin are permanent residents, but unfortunately the law doesn’t make them eligible to sponsor you either. You don’t have an advanced college degree or professional skills to qualify for an employment-based visa.
“Therefore, we believe your best option is to seek asylum. You’d be filing what’s called an affirmative asylum application. In essence, you’re going to the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Service and asking for permission to stay in the country. If the application is granted, you can remain indefinitely, and you’re also able to seek permission to travel outside the States and return. After one year, you can get a green card, and then five years on, you can apply for citizenship.”
“And I could work?” Hernán asked.
“Yes,” Sofia said. “In fact, if we don’t get a decision within 180 days after we file your application, you’re entitled to a work permit while it’s pending.”
David leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table and met Hernán’s gaze. “You need to know that this strategy isn’t risk-free. If the asylum officer denies your application, you’d be referred for removal proceedings. The deportation process isn’t automatic, though. We’d go before an immigration judge on the grounds for asylum and get another bite at the apple, so to speak.”
“We can’t give guarantees, but you do have a strong case,” Sofia said. “The initial stalking and intimidation Cuernos del Diablo tried was sexual in nature. Your experience with them and your fear of retribution comes specifically from you being targeted because you’re gay. With all that, you have a well-founded fear of persecution based on your sexual orientation. I’ll need to do some research to gather evidence on why you couldn’t expect help from the authorities.”
Colin spoke up. “As it happens, I’ve been studying U.S. State Department reports on country conditions throughout Central America for that lobbying effort I mentioned. Abuse or abandonment of LGBTI people in El Salvador is pretty well-documented. I’ve been through some shocking reports of public officials and even police who engaged in violence and discrimination against gays, lesbians and intersex people. When LGBTI individuals tried to seek help, they were ridiculed or strip-searched, and asked demeaning questions. I can send you the reports this afternoon.”
“Perfect,” Sofia said. “That and any similar materials you have will speed my work on portions of the application.”
Hernán looked at Colin for guidance. Softly, Colin said, “I think you should do it, Hernán, but ultimately it’s your choice to make.”
True, but what was the alternative? He could spend his life in fear of immigration enforcement officers finding him. Let assholes like Gerald Nimble control and manipulate him through terror. Or…he could take the lifeline Colin had found for him. Nothing worth having was free of risk.
“Let’s do that,” Hernán said. “Seek asylum.”
Colin’s relieved smile warmed his belly.
“Excellent,” Sofia said. “Were you able to work on the forms I gave you?”
Hernán pulled papers out of a folder he’d brought and passed them to Sofia. He stared at the tabletop and said, “There’s, uh, something else. Something new you should know about.”
Colin took his hand. Sofia and David waited patiently while Hernán found his voice. “I went to a doctor to get the evaluation you said I would need. I found out, uh…”
Blood rushed in his ears from his suddenly-pounding heart, and the room seemed to blur. He couldn’t say the words. David was a stranger, and he’d only met Sofia once. Would they think he got infected in San Marcos? Did they think there were others before Lonnie? He stared at the conference table surface.
“Hernán found out that he’s HIV-positive,” Colin said, leaning forward in his chair. “At the time he was discharged from the hospital after his stabbing, he tested healthy. He thinks he must have contracted it when Lonnie Heath raped him, because he never had sex with anyone at all before that.” He blushed. “Or after, until the time he was tested.”
Sofia put her hands to her mouth. “Oh, Hernán. That must be devastating.”
David asked, “Are you getting treatment? I understand remarkably effective drugs are available if it’s caught quickly. From what Sofia told me, the infection would have happened about seven or eight months ago, right?”
Hernán nodded, unable to speak. He risked a look around the table, to see if anyone was pushing back, or away from him. No one had moved.
Colin continued, “We’ve been to see Chris McCracken.” To Hernán, he explained, “Chris is a good friend of David’s. It was a strange coincidence, to discover we’d been going to the same doctor.”
“Not really,” David said with a smile. “He’s one of the few openly gay doctors around, and that’s important to both of us. Also we only live a few blocks apart, so Chris is kind of our gayborhood doctor anyway.”
Colin gave David a smirk. “I concede the point, counselor.”
“Anyway, Chris is excellent.” David addressed that to Hernán. “He has a practice specialty for people living with HIV. I can’t imagine someone better qualified to help you stay healthy.”
Sofia made some notes on her legal pad and shook her head. “It’s really unfair. You tried to get safe and then this happens. It’s small comfort, I’m sure, but your HIV status should be one more reason we can argue for asylum. Colin, do you have any materials regarding HIV/AIDS treatment in El Salvador?”
Colin nodded and made a note to himself. “Yes. I’ve been reading that, statistically, HIV treatment has improved dramatically in Central America in recent years. In practical terms, though, sex workers, transgender women, and gay men get infected disproportionately. Those groups also face the highest barriers to getting treatment and to reducing the rate of new infection. Some of the reports blame the lack of public information and access to medical resources, stigma, and fear of reprisal or of ostracism.”
He glanced sideways at Colin, suddenly feeling his heart constrict in fear. The statistics and reports made it sound so distant, but it was his life being discussed.
Colin didn’t see the look and kept talking to Sofia and David. “There’s a law to prevent discrimination on the basis of HIV/AIDS-status,” he said, “but the law is rarely enforced. Discrimination actually remains widespread. I’ll get together some more materials for you on that, Sofia.”
Hernan shuddered. Quietly he added, “The people I’ve heard of get pushed out of sight. There was a family that lived near my grandmother’s house. The son got AIDS and they kept him locked up. They’d use separate plates, sheets, towels—everything. He didn’t last long.” That could be me, if I have to go back.
Colin finally glanced at Hernán and his eyes widened. Sliding his chair closer, he grasped Hernán’s trembling hand. “Nothing like that is going to happen to you. I swear,” he said fiercely.
Hernán kept his eyes locked on Colin’s and squeezed the hand holding his as he tried to draw deep breaths. Slowly he found his center again. Maybe it was a relief after all, to have his infection in the open, to have it talked about.
He croaked, “I’ve started a drug protocol and…we’re dealing with all those other things.” Sofia seemed to miss it but David gave a small, sharp nod of understanding. His racing heart gradually regained its steady rhythm. “It’s still a lot, but I’m trying to get my head around it.”
They talked through the details of the asylum application for an hour, until David excused himself to attend another meeting. “Sorry, gentlemen, but I’m still catching up from being away for three weeks. Colin, I know Brandon is excited to see you. Perhaps you’d like to come to dinner tomorrow evening?” His eyes included Hernán. “Both of you.”
“Let’s do that,” Colin said enthusiastically, but then glanced quickly at Hernán. “I’m sorry. Is that all right with you?”
Hernán tensed and relaxed at the same time. He appreciated that David seemed to understand and accept that Hernán and Colin were together, but he couldn’t help a small pang of fear. With all the shit that he brought to Colin’s door, being around Brandon might remind Colin of earlier love.
No. It wasn’t the time to indulge his insecurities. “Can we bring anything?” he asked.
“Just yourselves. Seven-thirty?” They nodded and David left.
Sofia had taken a few minutes to organize her notes into a checklist of the tasks they had to accomplish in order to move the application forward. “Medical records from El Salvador of the stabbing, an affidavit from your sister or your grandmother about the event, an affidavit from your cousin Rudy about getting you released from the smugglers…”
She paused to study her list. “Yes, I think that’s it. I’ll take the forms you filled out and have the paperwork typed up. Hernán, you’ll take care of contacting people for the records and statements we need. Do you have any questions for me?”
Hernán stood to shake her hand as he asked, “Just one. What’s the timetable for all this? I’ve written to the hospital already, but it may take a while to get in touch with my sister. She moved in with our aunt who doesn’t have a telephone.”
“We have to get the application on file no later than one year after your arrival in the States,” Sofia explained. “The sooner the better, though, just in case ICE happens to pick you up. If you already have an asylum application pending, they’re unlikely to start removal proceedings.”
The words terrified Hernán all over again. For months in Provincetown he lived with a persistent fear of being caught, but since he’d been with Colin all of that seemed like a distant dream, like someone else’s worries. He tried to keep his face neutral when he nodded.
Colin peered at him, and took his hand. “Don’t worry, Nán. There’s no reason for immigration agents to be looking for you.”
Hernán gripped his hand back and gave a tight smile, but inside he still felt cold.
Walking out of the building, hand in hand, Colin said, “It looks like the whole process is in good shape. Do you think you’re ready to begin at the Immigration Initiative?”
Hernán nodded slowly. In the anxiety of telling his story, he couldn’t have handled teaching strangers—Colin had been absolutely right about that. Add in the fact of his diagnosis and he would have been a disaster.
But with the prospect of a new life taking shape, he could finally repay a little of Colin’s generosity. Colin’s work was important to him, Hernán knew, and he liked the idea of sharing in that passion. As well, the money Colin had insisted he accept in advance had begun to weigh heavily on him, like an unpaid debt on his soul.
Yes, he was ready.
“Can I start tomorrow?” he asked, thrilled when Colin lit up like the morning sun.
Hernán made his way back to the condo after the meeting. Nerves jangled at the thought of stepping in front of a classroom of students, but excitement was there too. He would use the afternoon to make progress on the documents needed for the asylum application, and then he’d be ready to begin his new work with Colin.
Once in the apartment, he reviewed his task list from Sofia and decided to start with a call to Tío. They talked for a few minutes about what Hernán was doing in DC, but in vague terms. Hernán wasn’t ready to risk telling his uncle about himself or his relationship with Colin. He asked Tío to pass along a message to Brijith, to contact him when she was able.
Next he called Rudy about the affidavit he needed. They talked often, but guilt gnawed at the edge of Hernán’s mind. He’d revealed little about what was happening between him and Colin, perhaps afraid that talking of it would break the spell. He hadn’t even explained how he came up with the money he’d sent to Rudy.
And he hadn’t mentioned his diagnosis, because every time he said the words made it more real. Even with his optimistic doctor and supportive boyfriend, sometimes the reality of his diagnosis curdled in his belly, or wrenched him awake at night. He couldn’t forget the people he’d heard about in El Salvador, abandoned to the ravages of AIDS.
Would that be him, some day?
Rudy was his best friend, and Lord knew he told Hernán everything about his life in smutty detail. He owed it to Rudy to speak up about what Colin was doing for him. Like paying for my medicine and giving me a place to live, and telling me he loves me.
When Rudy picked up the phone and they’d exchanged superficial news, Hernán steeled himself. “Primo, I didn’t want to do this over the phone but I’ve got some stuff I need to tell you.” He swallowed hard against a wave of panic and nausea. “It, uh…for my immigration papers. I had to get examined by a doctor.” Hernán made himself form the words.
“Rudy, I’ve got HIV.”
The weight of Rudy’s silence was palpable. When he spoke, his voice sounded thick with tears. “Oh, Nán. I’m so sorry. It was that bastard Lonnie, wasn’t it? I wish I’d been able to get you away from him before this happened but I didn’t know—”
“There was nothing more you could have done. I’m learning a lot about HIV, though. It’s better here than in El Salvador. There are treatment programs to keep me from ever getting sick.”
Rudy sounded doubtful. “That must be really expensive. The drugs, I mean. There are AIDS support groups here in P-town and I went out with this one guy who was positive. He told me that even with insurance, he spends a thousand dollars a month to keep up with the medication.”
“Colin’s checking into some government programs that subsidize medication even for undocumented people. And, uh, until then…Colin’s paying for my treatment.”
Dead silence from Rudy. Finally he spoke in a flat tone. “Colin is paying for your medicine, on top of giving you a place to live and working on your immigration papers. This is starting to sound like me with Gerald.”
“No! Rudy, he isn’t like that. Colin’s just got this big heart, and money isn’t a problem for him.”
“It wasn’t a problem for Gerald either. Until he got tired of me.”
What could Hernán say? Colin won’t get tired of me. Colin would never treat me the way Gerald treated Rudy. How did he know?
Because he loved Colin. And he believed Colin, that he loved Hernán too.
In a small voice, he said, “I haven’t been telling you everything, Rudy. I’m sorry.” He explained about how their relationship had developed, how they were adapting to the HIV diagnosis, the way Colin treated him.
When Rudy spoke again, the concern of a close cousin warred with the delight of a perpetual romantic. “Nán, I’m really happy for you. I hope this works out. It’s just…well, you’re always the one to warn me not to get my hopes up too fast. And I hate to admit it but you’ve always been right. It’s strange to hear you talking like this.”
“I don’t know what to say except Colin loves me. I just… I trust him.”
“Okay.” Rudy paused again; when he spoke his tone was deliberately light. “Hernán in love. You need to get this man of yours to fly you back to Provincetown so I can see this miracle in person. I want to be your maid of honor when you get married. Hell, I want to be your wedding planner!”
They laughed at absurdities for a while until Rudy had to go to work. Before he signed off, in the most sincere voice Hernán had ever heard from him, Rudy said, “Be careful. I want you to be happy and I think you have better luck than me in picking a good man. But if anything goes wrong, you don’t have my calluses either. You’d have a hard time getting over a broken heart.”
“I know,” Hernán said softly. “I’m starting to see that ‘careful’ doesn’t really come into it though. Safe sex we can do. Safe love? What does that even look like?”
“If I knew I’d tell you. Love you, primo.”