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. Ther
e’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.”
Chapter 23
Colin took Hernán to the Immigration Initiative’s offices with him the next morning. He walked gingerly because Hernán had done a number on him the night before.
Hernán raised his head from Colin’s glistening cock, one hand still wrapped around the base. “How’s that?” he asked, and smiled at Colin’s groan. “It feels good in my mouth. And the taste! I had no idea why everyone always raved about blowjobs but I love doing this to you.”
Colin tried to raise his head from the pillow but failed. “Ah, chupame. Suck me, please. I was almost there.”
“Nuh huh, bello. I’ve got other plans for you.” Hernán rummaged in the drawer that contained secret desires. With a dirty grin, he began working Colin’s ass with Bluebeard to pry him open. After a few minutes he switched out that toy for Jesse, a thicker, red dildo with small bumps down its eight-inch length.
Abashed at first, Colin soon relaxed as Hernán whispered filthy stories in his ear about the “man” between his legs. When Hernán pulled Paul Bunyan out of the drawer, he held Colin’s gaze while he licked the huge thing up and down and tried to fit it into his mouth.
He couldn’t take even the first inch so he murmured, “Have you really had this monster inside you?” Colin nodded nervously, his face warm, but Hernán ran it across his belly. “I can’t wait to see Paul disappear inside you.” He brought the toy to Colin’s lips. “Work him up. Show me how much you want Paul inside you.”
Mortification warred with arousal as Colin let Hernán run the giant dildo over his lips. He opened his mouth wider and took the head inside. “Such a good cocksucker,” Hernán praised. “That’s it. Make Paul wet. He wants to fuck you.”
Colin closed his eyes and took the thing deeper. He could manage no more than a few inches but having Hernán feed him the silicone dick made his own ache. And then, Hernán slid down the bed to lube up the thing and press it to his hole…
Oh God, Colin was sprouting wood on the sidewalk. He shifted his gait until he was a few steps behind Hernán, hiding his arousal
as best he could and grateful for the thigh-length coat he’d put on that morning. Hernán gave him a big smile over his shoulder, clearly aware of what Colin was doing.
“Did I go too hard on you last night?” Hernán asked innocently, though a devilish glint in his eye showed he already knew the answer.
Colin shook his head. “You did everything just right.”
“Mmm. Surely there’s room for improvement,” he teased.
After a quick look to make sure no one was in hearing range, Colin hissed, “The only way it can get better is if you give me the real thing again.”
When Hernán looked forward and didn’t answer, Colin’s heartbeat stuttered badly. He’d said the wrong thing, like an idiot. His semi-erection deflated and he hustled to take Hernán’s hand and walk beside him. “I’m not pushing—”
“I know, corazón.” Hernán cut him off with a smile, and Colin’s heart rate slowed back to normal. “After last night, I think I might be ready to go further. If we’re careful.”
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” Colin groaned. “How am I going to get any work done today with that bouncing in my head?”
“Aw, I’m sorry,” Hernán said smugly. “I thought two orgasms last night would’ve taken the edge off for you.”
“You know damn well it didn’t,” Colin answered, pouting. “The more I get of you, the more I want. I’m greedy that way.”
“My greedy blanquito. I don’t know if I can compare with all your other men like Jesse and Paul.”
“What bullshit. You know exactly what you do to me.”
Hernán gave him a sideways look. “Yes, I do,” he admitted. “You do it to me as well.”
Colin squeezed his hand. Tightly.
They stopped for egg sandwiches and coffee at a diner on the street level of the building that housed the Immigration Initiative not-for-profit center. When Colin led the way out of the elevator and through a set of glass doors, he said to Hernán in an aside, “Don’t get flustered by Maryanne. She may embarrass you a little but she’ll really be trying to get under my skin.”
Asylum (Pride and Joy Book 2) Page 25
