“Only family I have now,” he said.
Mary, who sat beside him, gave him a hug.
“I’m your sister, just as much as I’m Newt’s.”
“And if you need another mother,” Viv said. “Well,
look to Louise, because shithead’ll tell ya, I’m not much of that.
But I’ll tell you when your head’s screwed on backwards.’
Mr. Perkins raised an eyebrow, pouted, and then
bowed his head.
“Amen,” he said.
Grace had concluded.
“Pass the stuffing,” Matt said.
“I’ll fix you a plate,” I said.
“No, Martin,” Louise said. “You enjoy. You’re his
servant around the clock. You need a day off.”
I smiled.
Thank you, Mama.
The bowls went
around and it was intoxicating, especially the cranberries, which
Louise made from scratch. I only knew how to open a can from some
bog in Ocean Spray. And Louise’s gravy was a shimmering yellow,
almost clear and yet as rich as butter.
“I hear you have a bit of an issue with your
prescription coverage, son,” Sammy said.
The comment was like a knife. Of all the curses
current in the household, it was this one. Now Sammy brought it up
just before the first bite. I expected Louise to chide him and put
it on the back burner. However, she didn’t. In fact, she
contributed to the pain. Though perhaps they wanted to discuss this
in Frank’s presence, insurance and all that, but he was in auto
casualty coverage, not medical. So what was the point?
“We’re hoping it’ll get resolved,” I said.
“You haven’t said anything to me,” Hank noted.
“Well, it’s Axum’s problem.”
“They won’t cover the meds?” Hank asked. “It’s not
uncommon. AIDS is not one of your top coverage risks. In fact, once
they whiff that it’s AIDS, they usually run for the hills.”
Hank summed it up succinctly and correctly. The
insurance company denied paying for the meds, so that cost would
stay
out of pocket
. However, there was worse news.
“Well, since you brought it up,” I said.
Matt held his hand up, a roll perched in his
fist.
“It’s really not Martin’s problems, Dad. It’s mine.
I mean, Axum has been good, but the insurance company is just being
stubborn about everything.”
“Everything?” Sammy asked. He had been forking his
mashed potatoes, but let them slip back to the plate. “Do you need
money, son?”
“Martin,” Louise said. “You should have let us know
before this.”
“Well, we just found out.”
“What are you talking about?” Viv asked. “What do
you mean
everything
?”
“They denied payment on the hospital bill,” I
answer
“That has to be thousands,” Mary stammered.
“Twenty-seven thousand, eight hundred dollars,” Matt
said.
“And eighty-seven cents,” I added.
“God forgive us the eighty-seven cents.”
Thanksgiving was over before it begun. There was a
flurry of conversation about
how will you manage that
and
what if.
It was the
what ifs
that disturbed me most.
Viv did some moderate cursing, while Sammy fumed at the insurance
industry.
“Those bastards. They should all be sued.”
Frank Perkins had been silent until then. I don’t
really think Sammy meant to insult the man or even to pick a fight
with him. Still, Viv had been massaging his arm during this whole
conversation.
“I hate to burst your bubble,” Frank said.
“Insurance is a risky business at best and when there is higher
than normal risk, the business part of the equation usually trumps
the issue.”
Silence.
I could see Sammy’s face redden. This is not what I
expected for Thanksgiving —
God bless the food, the friends and
curse the insurance guy.
“Forgive us, Mr. Perkins . . . Frank,” Louise said,
darting a sharp glance to Sammy. “We don’t mean to insult you or
your business.”
“I’m in auto insurance, so you’re not really
insulting me. You just don’t understand . . .”
“Well, I do,” I said.
This drew the conversation to me, exactly where I
didn’t want it. It was harder for me. This was Matt’s affair with
his parents, poor relation that I was, and this was Viv’s
boyfriend, not mine.
“I mean,” I stammered. “Matt and I understand that
he poses as financial risk to a multimillion dollar industry.” I
thought briefly about this. “I mean, you must understand that we’re
not rich, yet we’re not poor. But we will be poor, because we have
not been designed to combat health costs that most people fight in
retirement, while we are just . . . kids. In fact, the insurance
guy I spoke with was very professional. He told me that he had done
everything he could do for Matt’s claim. Still there was nothing in
the policy about the Human Immune-deficient Virus and its
complications. And why would it, Frank? Why would it? Did anyone
hear about this thing a few years ago? I didn’t. If you told me to
get insurance for PCP or Toxoplasmosis or Thrush or Kaposi’s
sarcoma or Dengue fever, would I buy it at age 21? Would I? But now
you hand me a twenty seven thousand eight hundred dollar hospital
bill.”
“And eighty-seven cents,” Matt interjected.
“And eighty seven cents.”
“I haven’t handed you a bill, son,” Frank said. “I
realize this is an emotional time.”
“Emotional?” I was getting emotional and the
potatoes were getting cold. “I’m beyond emotional.”
“Pumpkin.”
“No. People need to understand that shit happens and
their policies and waivers and agents become as bad as the damn
virus. I mean, the pharmaceutical houses are charging us twelve
dollars a pill.”
I was heated now.
“Hyacinth can get you AZT,” Hank said.
“I know. And we’ll need it. But will Hyacinth pay a
twenty-seven thousand dollar bill?”
“You know the answer to that, Martin,” Hank
said.
“No,” Louise said. “Don’t fret. This is
Thanksgiving. A time for blessings.”
“And curses,” I said.
Louise stood. She slipped her apron from her
shoulders.
“No curses, Martin. Never curses. We will pay this
bill.”
I guess I had ruined the meal. It all came around to
me. I didn’t start it, but oh, how I ended it.
“Sit down, Louise,” Sammy said. “Of course, we’ll
pay the bill. Of course, we will.”
“But Dad,” Matt said.
“We’ll hear nothing more about it. We are family,
all of us . . . even our new friend, the insurance man. It’s not
his fault that systems collide.”
Frank eased up. Louise sat down. I felt like running
away, but Mary winked at me and I knew that the money issues could
always be solved. Always. It would be a bleak course, but there
were bleaker things to consider. That little fucking retrovirus was
not going to split this home and hearth apart.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was . . .”
“No, Martin,” Louise said passing me the
cranberries. “Never apologize for defending your man.”
Sammy raised his wineglass.
“To Matt and Martin,” he said. “To this lovely meal
and my Louise.” He raised it again, to Hank and Mary. “To those who
support us.” And then toward my queer mother. “And to the vivacious
Viv and the Insurance Industry in all its fiduciary splendor.”
“Long may she wave,” Frank said, smiling now.
“And we’ll foot the bill,” Sammy concluded.
Suddenly, Viv reached down for her purse and
ransacked through it. She reached across the table and plunked
something beside my plate. It was the eighty-seven cents.
I was in no mood for Christmas, but it came anyway,
with its hacking good cheer and carols and shoppers and overtime. I
was a child of Christmas, but this year it was all a chore. I
commiserated with Scrooge. Matt, on the other hand, was filled with
more spirit than anyone I had ever known. It was infuriating to see
him peruse the shopping ads looking for things to buy. He even made
a list, which was my domain. I tried my best not to change the
routine. Hank came and helped. Louise and Sammy checked in. Work
went apace, both Matt’s and mine. If it weren’t for the onerous
thought that some insurance company was the grinch that stole
Christmas, I might have seen myself clear to think about decorating
the apartment.
“Leave it be,” Matt declared.
I couldn’t abide that. Even if I had to throw the
fucking tinsel around the place, the place would smack of
Christmas. It was an enforced Christmas.
You shall be merry, ho
ho, and sing the carols in perfect time
type of Christmas.
“How can we let it be,” I snapped.
“I was thinking we’d take a little vacation.”
I was astounded. I had no vacation time left and
Matt was in no position to traipse away on a holiday. What was the
man thinking? Hank had just left and I was mixing the AZT cocktail
into the yogurt. I drew the twelve ounces of water, and then
marched over to the table.
‘Here.”
“That time already?”
Matt whipped the yogurt with a soupspoon. He didn’t
like to see the meds in the concoction.
“Where did you want to go on this little vacation?
The North Pole? I hope Santa has a supply of Cannon up there.”
Matt choked. I felt sorry that I was taunting him.
Why shouldn’t he want to take a vacation? Hell, I would give my
right nut for a little time off, but not in the tundra. I could use
the pink sands of Bermuda about now.
“Not to the North Pole, Pumpkin. Let’s spend
Christmas in Long Branch.”
“At my place?”
He reached up and pulled me down for a kiss.
“It would be nice there. Just like our first
Christmas.”
I thought about that first Christmas — just two
years ago. I
did
have the place nicely set out then. But all
the stuff — the meds, the books and . . . computers, were here.
“I haven’t cleaned the place in a month.”
“So we’ll rough it.”
“You know you can’t rough it.”
“Hank’ll help you. Just keep the neighbor’s cat
away, and I should be fine.”
I sat — thinking. It would be nice to have a change
and perhaps we could even mosey over to
The Cavern
for a
drink. Well, Matt couldn’t drink, and I hadn’t had a significant
round since his illness. Matt crimped my arm, and then gave me one
of those irresistible glances with those eyes. How could I refuse
this man anything? I’m a sucker for sick cowboys.
“Okay,” I said. “But we’ll only decorate over there.
This place will not get as much as a holly bough.”
“Agreed.”
“And what are you going to do about the
computers?”
“That’s what’ll make it a true vacation. We could
leave the meds and the diarrhea here too.”
“That would be a real vacation for me, but I’m
afraid the meds go wherever your mouth is and the shits wherever
your ass aims.”
“I feel bad about that,” he said. “You got yourself
some deal here, haven’t you?”
I kissed him.
“Yep. Some deal.”
“Some day it’ll pass.”
“Shut-up. I don’t want you to say such things.”
He sometimes got morbid and when he did, I was
expected to ride along with it. Not tonight though. If we were
going to move over to my place and were going to decorate it to the
heavens, I wasn’t going to listen to such contraband thinking
now.
“But I think things like that all the time,” he
said. “I was just sharing.”
“We don’t need to share everything.”
I turned away. I didn’t mean to say that. It came
out wrong. In fact, I wanted to share in the disease. I really did,
or thought so. It would give me the vacation I really needed. I
could do the dance of shit and choke for air and have people swoon
at my every fart. I was born to do Camille. However, I didn’t want
Matt to think that I was concerned about catching the plague. I
could care less about that.
“This has been hard on you,” he said.
I sensed morbidity in the Christmas air. I stood,
waved my hand and returned to the sink counter.
“Finish your yogurt treat. And don’t be sorry for
me, Matt. That’s what I don’t want to share. I don’t need pity or a
discussion on life or . . . death. It’s just not in my repertoire.
May never be. You can call it denial or whatever you want, but my
sanity depends on not playing cards with the devil. So . . .”
“So,” he said. “So shall we buy Viv a new dildo from
Santa?”
I chuckled. He had taken the hint. Hell, it was more
than a hint.
“Why? Are their shortcomings in the Insurance
Industry?”
“Well, you know what they say. That damned red
umbrella doesn’t cover everything.”
I spent the week before Christmas rushing between
work and Long Branch. The place needed a Dutch Cleanser scrub. Hank
helped by covering Matt’s meals and meds. Fortunately, all these
days were good days, so Matt didn’t miss work. I had also planned
to squirrel over one of the computers, but decided against it. I
didn’t know one end of the thing from another. I would surely screw
it up and lose data or break a mouse. So I just decided that I
would need to be Matt’s favorite pastime for the Christmas
weekend.
I set up the manger and the holly and frosted the
windows, although it looked like we might have a white Christmas.
In fact, I prayed we would have a white Christmas. That would set
my cowboy on the pinnacle of joy. There was something about the
white stuff that electrified him. The only thing I didn’t do was
buy the tree. I promised him that we’d pick it out together and
decorate it on Christmas Eve. Hank was going to spend time with us
then and help. However, Hank had no family, except us now. He had
three other buddies, but decided he would make pit stops at their
places and end up with us to help decorate the tree.
“Are you cold?” I asked Matt as we strolled through
the nursery between the cut evergreens.