Because He's Perfect

by Anna Edwards

  “We should get out,” he said. “Before someone comes.”

  “You never used to worry about such things,” I said, my tone light and teasing.

  “Yeah, well, lots of things have changed, Jess.”

  His weary tone made a return, and it tugged at my heartstrings. At least my crazy shenanigans had brought some levity to a man who used to put the F in fun, yet now couldn’t seem to sustain enjoyment or pleasure for more than a few minutes at a time.

  He swam for the shore, me trailing in his wake. By the time I caught up with him, he’d already pulled on his jeans. He averted his eyes as I removed my panties, then dressed. I considered leaving them hanging on a branch, something to brighten up the dull existence of any local that might happen to stumble upon them. Instead, I wrung them out and stuck them in my pocket.

  Being an adult sucked sometimes.

  Wade stayed silent on the walk back to his place, and I respected him enough not to fill the quietness with inane chatter. Outside his front door, there was an uncomfortable moment of foot shuffling and bowed heads before I took pity on him.

  “What time do you want me?”

  He lifted his chin. “Huh?”

  “Tonight. Dinner. What time?”

  “Oh. Erm… say seven-thirty?”

  He’d retreated back into his shell, so I simply nodded. “See you then.”

  I got into my car and made my way down the gravel driveway. I glanced in the rearview mirror. Wade’s arms hung by his side, a resigned expression giving him an air of defeat.

  I had no idea what the hell was going on with him, but whatever tonight brought, it had better yield some answers.

  Chapter Seven

  Wade

  The closer the clock ticked toward seven-thirty, the more my nerves increased. The idea of offloading the terrible truth of my life had seemed tempting down by the lake with Jess’s legs wrapped around my waist, her breasts mashed against my chest, her sweet breath in my face…

  But now, the idea of telling her the reason we couldn’t be together, to watch as disbelief turned to horror, and then disgust, caused a tight knot to form in my stomach and an ache to appear at the back of my throat.

  I had spent the afternoon practicing how I’d tell her, saying the words to myself in the mirror, but each time I’d stumbled and stuttered my way through. My therapist assured me my feelings were completely normal, but what the fuck did he know? This wasn’t happening to him, so how could he truly empathize?

  I opened the gates in readiness for her arrival and stood at my bedroom window waiting for Jess’s car to appear at the foot of my driveway. When it did, my heart galloped, thudding painfully against my ribcage. With a final glance in the mirror, I jogged downstairs to greet her.

  She got out of the car, tentatively stepping on the gravel. She looked… stunning in a fitted navy-blue dress that matched the midnight of her eyes and brought out the caramel tones in her hair. Desire rushed at me, and my cock twitched. I quickly erased the distance between us.

  “Jess.” I leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You look wonderful. You didn’t need to go to any trouble.”

  “No trouble,” she said, her smile warming my insides. “Besides, my other clothes were soaked through.”

  “Hmm. Good point.” I gestured to the open front door. “Come on in. I hope you still like pasta.”

  “Love it. So do my hips.”

  I ran my gaze over her. “I’d say the pasta is doing a fine job.”

  I knew I was flirting, and I knew it was wrong because it sent a signal I couldn’t follow through on. But when Jess shot me a beaming grin at my compliment, I refused to regret it.

  She followed me through the house and into the kitchen. I’d set up in here because the dining room was too dark and austere, and I wanted Jess to feel relaxed and at ease.

  I poured us a glass of wine, then filled two pasta bowls to the brim with angel hair, meatballs, and tomato sauce.

  “God, that smells amazing,” Jess said, her stomach rumbling. “Sorry.” She clasped a hand around her middle. “I barely ate at the reception.”

  “I’m not surprised,” I said. “You had other things on your mind.”

  As did I. You.

  She twisted the pasta around her fork, and her lips closed around the prongs. “Oh my God.” She groaned in pleasure. “Where’d you learn to cook like this? You couldn’t boil an egg when we were kids.”

  I shrugged. “Amazing what you can achieve when you have to.”

  She put down her silverware and gently caressed my arm. The heat from her hand bled through my shirt, and it took all my willpower not to tug her onto my lap and kiss her.

  “Want to talk yet?” she asked.

  I shook my head. A cowardly response, but I wasn’t ready. I’d never be truly ready, but I needed more time to build up my courage. Besides, she’d said she was hungry, and I had no doubts that the moment I told her, she’d want to leave immediately. “Let’s eat. Then we’ll talk.”

  She gave me a final squeeze then picked up her fork. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

  “You make me comfortable.”

  The words spilled of their own accord.

  Her eyes cut to mine, hope lightening the deep blue of her irises. “Wade, I’ve missed you so goddamn much. No one knows me like you do. That’s why we’re so good together, why our other relationships haven’t worked. Because the universe, fate, whatever the fuck you want to call it, was telling us we’d chosen badly. I’m just sorry it took my mother dying for me to tell you that. But it’s never too late. We’re here. We’re breathing. We have no one else to please or be dutiful toward. This is our time.”

  I cupped her cheek, and she leaned into my hand. Love flushed through me, igniting a spark inside, but I couldn’t afford to cultivate it. Jess deserved better than this. She deserved better than me.

  “I owe you an explanation first. Then you’ll understand.”

  “Nothing you could say would change my feelings for you, Wade.”

  God, I wish that were true.

  We finished our pasta, and I cleared away the dishes, while Jess chattered away about nothing in particular. I wiped down the countertop and glanced over my shoulder.

  “You still like strawberries, right?” I asked.

  “I do,” she said.

  I crossed over to the fridge and removed the items to prepare the dessert. I laid them out and grabbed a paring knife.

  “Do you want some help?” Jess asked.

  “No, I got it. You can top off the wine if you like, though.”

  “I probably shouldn’t have any more. I’m driving, remember.”

  “There’s juice in the fridge.” I pointed with my chin. “Glasses in that cabinet.”

  She got up, fetched a glass, then opened the fridge. She took out a carton of orange juice and poured herself a drink. I watched her ass instead of concentrating on what I was doing, and the knife sliced through my forefinger.

  “Fuck!”

  It took a few seconds for the blood to appear, but when it did, it gushed. Jess dashed over and went to clasp my hand. Horror shot through me, and I spun around, my back to her.

  “Get away!” I hollered. “Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me.”

  “Wade, let me help you.” She bent around me and switched on the faucet.

  I couldn’t let her near. It was too dangerous. The only option I had was to be mean. “I said don’t fucking touch me! Go the fuck home, Jess.”

  I grabbed a bunch of paper towels and wrapped them around my finger. A red stain immediately appeared, telling me the cut was fairly deep.

  “Let me see it, you silly man,” Jess said, not in the slightest bit aggrieved at my rounding on her. “I’m a doctor, for goodness sake. A little blood won’t bother me. It might need stitches.”

  I grabbed more towels, swathing the wound once more. I needed her out of here, as far away from me as possible. Not for my safety, but for her own. “I said go
, so for once in your life do as you are told and just fucking go!”

  She narrowed her eyes, and then planted her hands on her hips. “No, I won’t just fucking go. What the hell is going on, Wade?” When I didn’t answer, she shoved me hard in the shoulder with her palm. “I said what the fuck is going on?”

  I cradled my hand to my chest and met her confused gaze. “I’m HIV positive, okay, Jess.” I stared at the floor. “I’m fucking HIV positive.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jess

  Silence fell, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The air around me stilled, and my lips parted in shock. Wade had HIV. I couldn’t wrap my head around it as a hundred questions poured in, each one desperate to be first. Except, as I went to speak, nothing came out. In the end, it was Wade who broke the silence.

  “So now you know,” he said quietly. “And now you can go.”

  He opened a cabinet, lifted out a first-aid box, and walked out, leaving me standing there, still trying to come up with the right thing to say. I should have the words. I took the Hippocratic Oath, for Christ’s sake. I came across things like this every day.

  This time, though, it was happening to Wade, not some stranger where I could easily compartmentalize. How had this happened? God, poor Wade, having to cope with such a huge thing alone. No wonder he was so bitter. I’d feel exactly the same if I’d been dealt such a terrible hand. But how had he contracted it? This wasn’t the eighties. People didn’t get HIV from something simple like having an infected blood transfusion as they had back then.

  Well, he wasn’t alone any longer. He had me.

  I went in search of him. I poked my head inside three rooms on the ground floor before I found him sitting at the dining room table—God, this room was oppressive—his head bent as he tried to bandage his finger. I didn’t try to help him, just stood there watching while he wrapped tape around the dressing.

  He finished what he was doing, put the scissors and tape back into the first-aid box, and closed the lid. He glanced over his shoulder.

  “You’re still here,” he said, stating the obvious.

  I edged into the room, trying to read his body language. I half expected him to start yelling again, but he seemed spent, exhausted. His shoulders slumped, and his damaged hand lay limp in his lap. I pulled out the chair next to his and sat.

  “Was this what you wanted to talk to me about?”

  He nodded. “Not quite the way I planned on telling you.”

  “No,” I said wryly. “Fortunately for you, I get yelled at by patients a lot. People who are hurting often lash out. I’ve got broad shoulders and a thick skin. I’m also a great listener. I know you probably find that hard to believe, but Scout’s Honor, I really am.”

  His mouth twitched at the corners, but the beginnings of a smile didn’t last. “Good to see new skills can be learned.”

  I clasped his good hand. “Can we go sit in the living room? This room always gave me the creeps.”

  Wade nodded. “Of course.”

  We took a detour through the kitchen to grab our drinks, then I followed Wade into the large high-ceilinged living room. I sat on the couch. He sat on the chair adjacent. The deliberate move wasn’t lost on me. He wanted to keep his distance because he was scared, because he considered himself unclean, dangerous even. The moments of reticence when I tried to increase our intimacy today all made sense now—even if his fear was unfounded. I’d pushed… and he’d acquiesced. God, the torture he must be going through.

  “Where do I start?” he asked, more to himself than me.

  I answered anyway. “I usually find the beginning is a good place.” I winked. “Although you’ve ruined the ending, so I guess anywhere will do.”

  He smiled, this time a real one, genuine and heartfelt. “I needed that. The normalcy.”

  “Only way I know how to be.” I reached out and touched his knee. “Talk to me, Wade. Tell me how this happened.”

  He let out a heavy sigh, his gaze on the floor. He wrung his hands, then threaded them together. “I told you earlier that Clara was the one who had the affair, not me. Well, the guy she had an affair with was HIV positive. He passed it on to her. She passed it on to me.”

  He spoke in such a matter-of-fact manner, whereas his words bounced around my head like a ping-pong machine. Jesus. The fact Clara had cheated on him was bad enough, but that she’d been so careless with not only her own life, but Wade’s, too. My leg muscles quivered in anger. If Clara were here now…

  As the shock waned, my medical knowledge came to the forefront. A woman passing the HIV virus on to a man was much less likely than a man giving it to a woman. Wade had been incredibly unlucky, although sharing such information wouldn’t make a difference. Statistics were pointless when you were the one in a million.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  He lifted his chin, his eyes meeting mine. “There’s nothing to say, Jess. There’s nothing I can do to change things. I can’t go back in time. But now you understand why I can’t… why we can’t.”

  “Are you on ART?”

  “Yes.”

  I expelled a sigh of relief. ART, or antiretroviral therapy, involved taking medication that could lower the level of HIV in the body to undetectable levels. If the virus wasn’t presenting, then the chances of infecting another person were miniscule. As long as Wade continued to take the pills, he’d live as long as anyone else. His life would be as normal as anyone else.

  “Then there’s no risk, Wade. You can live a completely regular life. We can be together. Surely your doctor has explained this to you.”

  “Minimal risk, Jess. Not zero risk.”

  I threw my hands in the air. “Oh, Wade, life is a risk. Hell, I took a risk driving over here today. Every human being on the planet faces risk simply by getting out of bed.”

  He shook his head vehemently. “It’s not the same. I can’t, Jess. God, if anything happened to you, if I cursed you with this…” His head fell into his hands. “I’d never forgive myself.”

  I got up and crouched in front of him. I tugged his hands away from his face. “Wade, if I was some regular person without the medical background, then sure, I’d be scared. Honestly, I’d probably run a mile, until I woke up and educated myself. But I’m not that person. My roommate at college went on to specialize in HIV and AIDS. Her brother was infected, and it gave her an almost rabid need to learn everything she could. She relayed her findings to me night after night, hence I know more about this illness than most other people. I know the risks. I also know that we’ve moved on—thank God—in both understanding and compassion since the very early days.” I placed my hands around his face. “You’re the one, Wade. The only man I’ve ever truly loved. I hurt for you, that you’re having to cope with such a life-changing event because of someone else’s reckless decisions.”

  An image of Clara swam into my mind, and I clenched my jaw. If I ever bumped into that woman, I wouldn’t be held accountable for my actions.

  “I made a stupid mistake when I was too young to know what was right in front of me. I never should have walked away from you. I should’ve fought harder. I won’t make the same mistake again. We may have challenges ahead of us, but we’ll face them together.”

  His eyes bored into mine, his gaze steady. “God, Jess, I want to run headlong into whatever the future holds with you by my side. But I’m scared.”

  “I won’t leave you, Wade. I’ve tried forgetting you, but it didn’t work.”

  “But I’m only half a man, Jess. I can’t love you like I want… God, like you deserve. I can’t have kids. I’ll never have kids.” His head fell into his hands, and he rubbed his face.

  Wade had built up so many myths and untruths in his mind, but then again, this was still all so new to him. He might have been through the cycle of grief, but there were still going to be times of regression ahead for him. But I knew, hand on heart, that I was the one, the only one who could help him get through this, to live a full and
happy life, like he deserved. Like we both deserved.

  “You’re wrong, Wade. We can live exactly the same as anyone else. We can make love and give love. Hell, we can adopt if you want kids that badly. But know this. You can try to push me away, but I’m going nowhere. We’ve wasted so much time already. I refuse to waste another second. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Come to Chicago with me. Leave this place behind with all its bad memories and broken promises. Be mine.”

  A dash of hope crossed his face. “But why, Jess? Why would you roll the dice like that?”

  I pressed my lips to his. “Because you’re worth it, Wade. To me, you’re worth the risk.”

  THE END

  About Tracie Delaney

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  Dedication

  This story was extremely personal for me to write from a past relationship. Adrian is based on someone I knew, and his struggles are what Adrian experiences. Sadly, not every male out there can admit to what he’s going through, but loving him through the pain, the humiliation, the frustration will only make him stronger.

  He may not be like every other man, but he’s human. And every human deserves love. He may be misunderstood, but he’s certainly perfect for the one who will love him without limits.

  There’s nothing worse than feeling less than you are. There’s also nothing more humiliating than knowing you can’t perform, not just in a sexual nature, but in life itself. It’s haunting, something you can’t shake. The pressure to be perfect is not only put on women but men as well.