Douglas Noble
James (3 of 8)

“Good, today was good,” James said.

You or I may think it strange to think of impending death as an opportunity to find a new niche in life, and James knew it was strange, but he really didn’t care.  That’s what made the whole situation funny to him.  Who cares if he couldn’t have sex anymore, he had actually only had sex once anyway, and that was more than thirteen years ago.  Who cares if some people might be afraid of him, not many people cared to be near him anyway.  Who cares if he didn’t know how he got it, weird things happen to people everyday. 

Now. Now, finally.  Now, James had something special.  The Doctor said they had support groups for things like this.  At a support group he could meet a new group of people, people who he had something in common with.  That sounded nice to him.  Maybe he could actually meet a girl there.  He wondered if people who already had AIDS could have sex with each other.  Maybe he would meet a girl with AIDS and they would fall in love.  A girl with AIDS just couldn’t fall in love with a guy without AIDS—there can’t be that many other guys for her to fall in love with.  He had never been in love before, with a girl who actually loved him.  The paddle wheel in James’s mind was spinning so freely that the cobwebs accumulated on it had a hard time holding fast, and a good majority of them actually spun right off.  The way James saw it his odds were getting better, and since James had never really considered himself in the category of having better odds, this idea sounded pretty good. 

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