There was another man at the support group meeting. He was the one who organized it, apparently. He wanted to make sure Russell felt welcome.
He invited him back to his apartment for a drink, and told him he looked like he could use one. Russell was quick to agree, on that point.
There was something magnetic and charismatic, about him. As terrified as he was of using him, too, Russell asked if he was also HIV positive, not wanting to assume. The man smiled ruefully and said he was diseased, but he didn’t let that get in way of the sexual aspects of his life.
Russ wasn’t certain who seduced who.
All he was really certain of was how he felt afterwards. The shame had consumed him. The disease had, too.
It just wasn’t the same disease running through his blood. His disease was his blood.
And that is how Russell’s story began.
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