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By the time Maureen walks the six blocks to Collins' apartment, she's pretty well done being pissed off. Now, she's just plain scared.
What if the test comes back positive? What if I'm sick right now, and don't even realize it? What if Roger's got it, too? Would he get clean if he knew what that shit was doing to him? God, I don't want to die. I'm only 23.
She has to shout up for the key. It had begun to rain steadily just as she left the clinic, and by the time she walks in Collins' front door, she's soaked through to the skin.
Collins meets her at the door with a dry towel, and takes her duffel bag from her, setting it next to a pile of ragged textbooks. He drapes the towel over her head playfully and begins rubbing her hair. "Girl, one of these days, you're going to catch your death, goin' out there in the rain like that."
Maureen bursts into tears. In one swift, smooth movement, Collins pulls the towel away and gathers Maureen against his chest, letting the towel drop to the floor. She falls against him limply, and he wraps his other arm around her, leading her into the living room. "Maureen, darlin', what's wrong? Come on, let's sit down."
They sit next to each other on the cracked leather couch and for several minutes, Maureen just sobs, her entire body shaking. Collins waits patiently, one hand on Maureen's shoulder. When it seems she's calmed down some, Collins goes to the kitchen and returns with a tall glass and sets it on the coffee table.
"It's just water. We can start on the hard stuff later, if we need to," Collins says. "and you should take off that jacket; you're gonna freeze if you don't."
Maureen takes a drink of water, and then shrugs out of her jacket. She drapes it over the arm of the couch as Collins sits back and lights two cigarettes.
"Now, what's on your mind?"
Maureen takes a deep drag, exhaling before she speaks. The smoke curls up toward the ceiling, and she watches it go. "It's Roger. He's...he's using again."
"Are you sure?"
Maureen nods. "The needle was in his hand, an inch and a half from his elbow."
"And?" Collins knows there's more to the story. The last time Roger picked up a needle, Maureen didn't cry. She simply told Roger that she didn't like him fucking up his body with junk, but that he could do what he wanted as long as he didn't steal from her to pay for it all. She said she'd kill him in his sleep if she found out he was doing that.
"And, he's been cheating on me with this girl named April, she can't be any more than 18, and...and she and I just went and got tested at the clinic." Maureen taps ash from her cigarette into a battered tin ashtray on the edge of the couch and takes a sip of water. Her hand shakes, but not enough that she thinks Collins will notice it.
Collins motions for the ashtray, setting it on the table between them. "And you're scared the test is gonna come back positive."
Maureen laughs, short and harsh, and shakes her head. She picks at a loose thread on her shirt. "No. I'm fucking terrified it's gonna come back positive."
"Yeah, hon, I know," Collins says quietly, nodding. The waiting really is the hardest part. Without a solid answer, the 'what if''s can get very overwhelming.
Maureen butts out her smoke and reaches for another drink of water. After setting the glass back down, she stays bent, her arms folded atop her knees, face down. When she speaks, her voice is slightly muffled. "I don't want to die, Collins. Not like that."
"I know, Maureen, I know. Nobody wants to die like this." Collins reaches out and rubs her back, feeling her muscles loosen slightly at the contact. It's cold in the apartment, but Maureen's radiating body heat like she has coals under her skin. Collins understands now why Roger never had as many blankets on his bed as the other guys did; he had his own heating element, curled up against his chest. Maureen sighs and wipes a hand across her face. She sits up a minute later, looking guilty. Her hair falls in her face.
"Shit, Collins, I didn't mean-"
"S'ok. I know what you meant. And it is okay to get scared about this stuff, you know."
Maureen bites her lip. "Are you scared?"
"Scared because I'm dying, or scared because I'm probably gonna die before y'all do?" Collins asks. His own test results came back less than three months ago, but you'd never know it. So far, it's been nothing but good days. Collins doesn't know what he'll do once they stop.
Maureen shrugs. "Everyone dies, I guess."
"Yeah, they do. But this is different. This is the difference between planning on living 'til you're 90 and planning on staying alive to see your next birthday, or next New Year's Eve," Collins says. "All the rules change when it comes to this shit."
Maureen closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. She sits up, running her hands through her hair roughly, and ending up with her hands clasped over the back of her neck. "So. What the hell do I do with myself for the next week, until the results come back?"
Collins takes a last drag off his cigarette, and puts it out, setting the ashtray back on the windowsill behind the couch. "Until you know for sure one way or the other, there's no sense in panicking. Do your best not to even think about it, and have a little fun. Right now, I'll whip us up some pasta or something while you change into something dry. We'll open the Stoli, maybe see if we can't sneak into whatever's playing down at the theatre if you're up to it, and you crash here with me tonight."
"That's it?"
"So far, yeah. We'll deal with tomorrow when it gets here," Collins says, taking Maureen's hand, and pulling her up from the couch. "Now, come on. We need to get some food into you, girl. You're too damn skinny."
They both laugh as Maureen follows Collins into the kitchen.