0 9 0 2B - The Michigan Daily - literary Magazine - Thursday, March 11, 1999 The Michigan Daily - Literary Magaz Contents ~ "Night-Time In Nowhere, America," poem by Julia Shih ............................2B / "Blood and Water," essay by Matthew Schmitt ...................3B / "Coming Clean," short fiction by Melissa Robbins ..........4B / "After Dinner, September," poem by Melissa L. Jones ....................6B / "Integrity in a Large Room," poem by Camille Noe .........................6B / "Ode to an Eggplant," poem by Joelle Renstrom .....................6B / "Aloe Vera's Mysterious Malady, or An Indigo Dream," shortfction by Edward Kehog ...........7B / "Solace in a Closed Closet," shortfiction by Renee S. Zukin ........... .....1013 / "Smoke Signals from Amelia Earheart," poem by Melanie Kenny................11B / "Racetrack,"poem by Sarah Flint ...1113 / "In Three Minutes,"poem by Joe Fletcher ....12B .. .:. CHRIOHurnN TKAr K/Daily MARGARET MYERS/Daily Night-Time In Nowhere, erca By Julia Shih Interior, Kitchen. Again. Five nights of waiting for that flickering bulb to burn out. Missing you. Expecting you to strut through that door The broken screen bangin' against the cheap tin of the trailer. You sayin' to me, "Sorry, babe. I got lost comin' back from the market." And me forgetting that it's been exactly five nights since my tears ran dry. )O U lI!E Z9fZIZIV to join US for a reception honoring the Literary Magazine writers Tomorrow, March 12,1999 7:0-9:00pm downstairs at Cava Java (corner of South University & East University) Hear U of M students read and discuss their own literature published in gle fQ Literary Magazine BLOOD Continued from Page 1413 "Steven, we're going to get HIV tests again, tomorrow" "Matt, we just had them a few months ago and it was all fine -" "Fuck. That was before we found out you were carrying chlamydia." I was sweating. He turned away. I apologetically reached out to touch his back. "Don't touch me," his whisper seethed. "I'm sorry. But, shit, if we've got this, we could have other things too" "But we had the test after the three month window thing, um, the window period. It's all good," his whisper quivered as he stuttered. "There is always a chance that it could have been messed up." "I don't have time tomorrow, I've got a paper to write and th-" "Goddammit Steven! This is so much more important. Don't trivialize me. You can't do this to me! I'm not the one who was being stupid. You're the one -" "Shut up!" And the silence that followed was louder than the 3 a.m. trains passing through Ann Arbor. I don't even remember hearing our breath. Then, a strange sucking of air. "Steven?" I reached out and gently pulled at his shoulder. He immediately turned over and embraced me. "I'm scared." His face was wet. "I'm scared too." Holding, Holding on. Back to the University Health Service Building. No syphilis, no gonorrhea. Only chlamydia. We went upstairs. Free anony- mous HIV testing. But we paid the $35 to have the test results returned in two days rather than two weeks. For two strange days, we avoided both each other and the notions of disease. With the exception of reminders to take antibi- otics, we hardly spoke to one another. Just reminders, and the occasional, "good-bye, I love you." We both went to our morning classes. Agreed to meet at UHS. On my walk across campus, I noticed everything and nothing at the same time. There were the thousands of people present, some milling about, some briskly getting somewhere, others taking their time. I started off by walking normally. But then I pictured myself, four years earlier, sitting at my kitchen table, basking in a relieved pride. Holding that letter from the Red Cross in my left hand, a glass of water in my right. I became angry, spiteful with that pride. I reconstructed the memory and smashed the glass and ripped the letter. Closer, I moved closer to the building one step at a time don 't run breathe normally i'm going to kill him how could he be so fucking stupid no hi mom, dad, i'm gay - and i have HIV i 'm going to lay in bed for weeks how could i have been so stupid don't run stop panting did you take your antibiot- ic this morning i'm going to kill him push him down the stairs afterwards if he's got one thing he sure as hell could have another bitch we sure as hell could have another blood take a burning hot bath slow down one step at a time what if there is a mistake quilts i want to know who he wasn't safe with i'm going to kill myself "this is not really happening" yes gay i love him with a blunt object he loves me he's scared i'm going to kill him hi mom why your face is turning red i'm going to be a motivational speaker lay in bedfor months bloody statis- tics i'll tell the high school kids "don't. think it can 't happen" dad lock the doors sleep myself i'm scared don 't run you come back burn hate who kill stu- pid push love me no no no breathe breathe die. So maybe they're right. The test results, were negative, but maybe the Red Cross is right about the risk factor of my blood. It is dangerous, indeed. Lake Winnipesaukee and I face each other calmly now, but we are communicating our common deep- ness. Those days that followed this entire ordeal were not of celebration. We walked back to my house together silently. The UHS nurse also told us that chlamydia is the most common sexually transmitted dis- ease. She explained that it can be trans- ferred even when condoms are used, even when every protective measure is taken.' So, in a way, Steven and I were lucky. And this relieved us, but I was still haunted. I had envisioned killing this person I love. I thought of the chaos of bats that spill out of their deep caverns at night, where nobody can see what business they are conducting in the dark. I considered the intimacy of vampires, the way they pas- sionately suck the life out of their prey, usu- ally someone they love in some way. What had I become? Those deadly thoughts I had had were some of the most vivid ever, and what would have happened if the ultimate irony had been fulfilled? What if that damn Red Cross nurse had her statistics proven? Would I have broken? Would I have laid in bed for a week, or would I have pushed Steven down the stairs? Would I be in prison right now? There is beauty here. It's 6 a.m. and I've been with this lake all night. The fog hangs over the mists like a worthy promise; the thickness is all there is, and the water qui- etly reflects the pure brightness. The color is all colors, and no colors at once. The trees have made noises throughout the dark breezes, as they do now; and I know as sure as I see this day beginning, that it will also end. My thoughtful motionlessness has invited the chipmunks to regard me as a stone, a small bush maybe. Several sur- round me, and as I turn to see how many, they are gone with a squeak and a scurry. And the harmonies of these practicing morning birds are reminding me to not judge myself so harshly. The music echoes off the lake, the lake that just a few days ago was driven by the wind to leap out of its borders and saturate the surrounding lands. Oh, there is beauty here. Which reminds me of my honesty. I did not have to be honest with that Red Cross nurse. I could have easily answered "no" to the question about sex with a male, because at the time I firmly believed I was free of disease, and I have strong desires to donate. They always need blood and I am aware of this because they always called me. Now I know, that in actuality, the orga- nization depends on honesty. Granted, they have extensive tests that should be able to detect any problems that might exi However, with window periods of dorma cy, and the fact that nearly half the proce of giving blood involves prying into donor's personal life, this reliance on ho esty becomes 'quite apparent. Lookin inward, I, too, was banking my confiden on allowing the benefit of the doubt. trusted that the negative test results we accurate. I trusted Steven and other peop who in turn had trusted other people, an so on, and so forth. But where and whe can trust be trusted? The problem that I have with the R< Cross is that their question system seems imply that because I made love with a mi (as the Procedures book describes), I a suddenly and statistically less trustworth Thinking back to Steven's joke, how I wanted to stir things up by claiming he ha sex with the nurse's husband, I still laugh his wit. But how does she know her partne is entirely faithful to her? How does an; one know? The Red Cross does not ask a gener question. They do not ask everyone: "hav you had sex, even once, with your partne while you were suspecting him or her to b sexually involved with other people." Th at least would be fair. Their questions an pointed and targeted. They highligl homosexual men, woman involved wit bisexual men, anyone involved with inta venous drug users, and anyone wh received a blood transfusion before a cer tain date. The impetus for these questior may be partially due to statistical data. Bu the lack of more general questions make the assumption that heterosexuals withou a drug addiction are, by nature, more trust worthy and therefore, safer. I resent thi assumption, and I ask why the Red Cros does not trust itself. They do not trust thei own tests, they do not trust their own sys tem. For I was being honest, and now I ca never give blood again. Maybe I'm being a bit unfair too. know that if I were in a serious accider and needed blood, the Red Cross woul deliver without discrimination, save th fact that I could only take O-Negative This organization plays a vital role in sav ing lives, indeed. They must work hard t ensure that the supply is clean and wil not cause serious problems down th road. I respect this. But I cannot undet stand why my right to align myself wit 1 14 S . iv rsty atc urh 6 $"41 www.webchateau.com U . I.