Stories Written on Lined Paper - 5. The Longest Day Must Have an End

Tuesday, 6th June, 1989

Charles Bell Ward, The Middlesex Hospital, London

Eric sat in the armchair, the high-backed one that he could never get comfortable in. He had brought three magazines to read, but when he’d returned to Justin’s room it had felt almost disrespectful to sit there and read them, so he’d pushed them under his chair when he’d sat down.

Justin was lying on his side, his eyes closed in sleep or whatever, with the white sheets pulled up to just under his chin. His skin still looked dry, Eric had stopped rubbing moisturiser into Justin’s skin ages ago now, and his blonde hair was pulled back over his head, its dull colour did nothing to hide how thin it had become. The only sounds in the room were mechanical; the quiet but constant hum of the pump, which kept Justin’s air-mattress inflated, and the whir of the tiny cogs in the other pump that feed drugs into Justin’s IV line.

The room was one of the side rooms off the main ward, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t ignore that this was a medical room. The hospital bed on which Justin lay, the strip trucking running across the back wall that carried oxygen pipes or such like, and the drip stand on the opposite side of the bed with its bags of IV fluids feed though the strange blue pump. Eric had become so used to this room, over the previous weeks, but he still felt uncomfortable here.

To call Justin the love of his life was no over romantic sentiment. They had met at University, though it was not love-at-first-sight. He’d been too shy to even admit his desire. He was just one of Justin’s many friends. One night, at a very drunken student party, Justin had kissed him. A long and lingering kiss, which lead to furtive and quick sex, in one of the house’s untidy bathrooms. The next day, Justin behaved as if the sex had never happened, but Eric remembered every detail of it – how could he not?

During the second year of their courses Justin had quit university and moved to New York, a sudden and glamorous move. There Justin proceeded to throw himself into the city’s gay life. He regularly wrote to Eric about his nights at the gay bars and bathhouses and backrooms, cruising in the parks and down by the river, while his days were spent working in bookshops or waiting on tables. Eric had read these letters with excitement and regret, mostly because he couldn’t be there with Justin but excitement because Justin had chosen to write to him.

When Justin returned to England, Eric had finished his degree and was working for a Liverpool firm of importers, where he also lived. Justin came for a visit, almost as soon as he was back in England, inviting himself into Eric’s small house. Eric had collected him from the station, on the drive back Justin had chatted brightly about his time in New York. Once at Eric’s home, Justin had wrapped him up in an embrace and kissed him with a sudden passion. Then Justin said:

“I think I want to live with you. I can see now that you really love me and I’m really starting to love you.”

Eric had wanted to shouted with joy.

The room’s door opened, the noise making him look up, and Davie, the Staff Nurse looking after Justin, quietly walked in, carrying a tray with three syringes on it. In his white tunic and black trousers, his thick black hair tied back in a ponytail, he looked every inch a nurse but to Eric he still seemed too young. Davie seemed no more than a boy, with his pale skin and gentle demeanour; but Davie was always caring and attentive. Eric had felt a moment of relief when he saw that Davie was again looking after Justin.

Davie quickly crossed the room and went straight to Justin’s IV line. Eric had seen him do this many times before. Davie took the first syringe, connected it to the IV line, and slowly began to inject the medication in it into the line. The nurses did this regularly; most of Justin’s medication was delivered like that now.

Once Davie had finished he dropped the last syringe back into his tray and took off his latex gloves. He then started to check on Justin, softly speaking to Justin as he did. Eric didn’t know how much Justin heard but it was still reassuring when Davie did this, still treating Justin as a human being.

“Anything I can get for you?” Davie asked him, the boy’s voice telling Eric he was now finished.

“No, nothing,” Eric replied.

“I’m just outside if you do,” Davie said and then quietly slipped out of the room.

They had been happy at first, in Eric’s little house in Liverpool, or at least Eric thought they had been. Working in computers he had no problem finding a job, even at the height of the three million unemployed recession, but not Justin. His lack of a degree and patchy job experience made it difficult for him to find a permanent job. But he’d thrown himself into the small and defensive gay scene in Liverpool, volunteering for the eclectic Gay Centre. Eric knew that Justin wasn’t always faithful to him, but Eric took comfort in the fact that Justin always came back to him. Justin was always vocal about how gay relationships shouldn’t try to copy straight ones, that marriage had failed everyone and was no model for gay relationships. Eric had agreed, but only out of love for Justin then political belief.

When Justin found the dark red mark at the top of his right thigh he’d ignored it; but when it was still there two months later Justin had finally gone to see their GP. The suburban doctor had dismissed it as a bruise but Justin and then Eric knew better. The swollen glands in Justin’s groin, the cold that had seemed to last months into the summer that year, the cough that would wake Justin at night.

It was Eric’s decision to move to London. There was the centre for medical treatment of AIDS, it was were the doctors and nurses who could deliver that specialist treatment were, it was also were the AIDS charities that could help and guide them were. He knew he had to get Justin there to save him, he didn’t want Justin’s future to be six to eighteen months long, he didn’t want to lose Justin so quickly. So they had moved to a flat in North Camden. Again, Eric had found it easy to find a new job, but now there was no question of Justin working. Their new GP had taken five minutes to examine Justin before she referred him to The Middlesex Hospital’s AIDS service.

Suddenly Justin was in the medical system. He was seen regularly by doctors, examined by nurses, and prescribed a cocktail of drugs; but his health had begun a slow decline. Bouts of pneumonia, an increase in the Kaposi’s Sarcoma marks on his body, urinary infections, the loss of feeling in his toes, and all the time Eric had been there looking after him. He didn’t regret it, moving to London, the big change in his life, because it was for Justin, it was to give Justin a chance.

His full bladder finally made him move. Eric pushed himself out of that uncomfortable chair and stepped out of the room. He entered the patients’ toilet next to Justin’s room, locked the door behind him and processed to empty his bladder.

As he left the toilet he glanced over towards the Nurses’ Station and saw Davie and Sean, the ward’s Senior Staff, stood together there. Sean reached up and touched the little earring in Davie’s left ear. Eric smiled to himself, that was it. He’d always thought Sean’s interest in Davie was more than just professional, more than just a senior colleague watching over a junior one, but now he saw it was. There was love blooming amongst all this illness and suffering. He hoped so, it would make sense, even just a little sense, of all this.

He turned back and entered Justin’s room, he didn’t want to be caught spying on the two of them.

They had moved to London four years ago. The move had flooded them both with hope. Their hope wasn’t misplaced but neither was it successful. Gradually, illness by illness, hospital visit by hospital, Justin’s health deteriorated. Soon the time between hospital admissions was getting shorter. Sometimes Eric was grateful when Justin was admitted, a chance to rest from the routine of caring for him, but he never said that aloud. It wasn’t a duty but his love that made him look after Justin, and he was able to fit that in around his work, his employer was surprisingly accommodating.

Five weeks ago everything changed. Justin was again admitted to hospital with pneumonia, this one had come on suddenly and seemed so much more severe. The worst was how it had left Justin, in a coma-like state of permanently sleeping. Harry, the attractive but straight Registrar, and Sean had taken him aside to explain what had happened. During his high fever Justin had had a stroke, leaving him in this terrible state, and there was nothing that could be done anymore. This was the end; it was only a matter of time.

Eric had broken down at that, the dam that had been holding back all his emotions for so long had broken and he was swept away. This would be the moment when he began to mourn, though at the time he couldn’t see that.

Soon he fell into an almost neat routine. He would leave work and go straight to the Hospital. The Middlesex Hospital always reminded him of what a Victorian hospital should look like. Its impressive facade, with rows of imposing windows arranged almost mathematically across it, always greeted him when he approached it. The entrance itself was walled in dark wood panels and always seemed awash with activity. The corridors, often with their decoration of Victorian mosaics made from brightly coloured tiles, were in contrast to the clinical whiteness of hospital’s wards. Eric quickly made his way through all this and straight to Justin’s ward. There he’d take up his place next to Justin’s bed and simply wait, it was all he could think to do now. Only calling an end to his vigil when the daytime nursing staff were replaced by the night nurses.

He looked up as he heard the room’s door open, again it was Davie. This time Davie came into the room and sat down on the plastic chair next to Eric.

“I’m going to for my break soon, down to the canteen, can I bring you back anything?” Davie asked him.

“Could you bring me back a cheese sandwich?” Eric replied. “I just fancy one.” He went to reach for his wallet, in his jacket pocket.

“Sure but you can pay me when I get back,” Davie said.

“Thanks.”

“How are you doing?” Davie asked.

He looked into the boy’s face and saw how sincere he was. Davie meant his question; he wasn’t simply being polite, like so many other people, with the hope of changing the subject quickly after he answered them.

“I’m hanging in there but I have to for Justin.”

“I understand,” Davie replied.

“Can I ask you,” he said, allowing his voice to drop to almost a whisper.

“Sure.”

“How long do you think this will last? With Justin, I mean...” he let his voice trail off. He didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m not sure. I’m not good at that. Sean is the best person to talk to; he’s more experienced than me. I could ask him to talk to you, if you want.”

“Thanks, I’ll think about that,” he replied. “Do you think there’ll ever be an end to this all, AIDS and that?”

“I hope there will be,” Davie said. “There’s got to be because of all the work being done to find a cure. I hope it’ll be soon, though. My Gran has this saying, the longest day must have an end. That no matter how bad something is there must be an end to it, something must happen to change it at some time.”

“I guess it does... Thanks, you’re very caring. Your boyfriend is a lucky man.”

A flush of pink crossed Davie’s checks for a moment.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, I’m not very good at them,” Davie replied.

Eric had to push his surprise down. Davie wasn’t just a nurse but one of those people who naturally oozed caring. Eric would have been certain that he was securely wrapped into a relationship with another, that Davie would have someone in his life to care for. Davie’s simple comment had turned around that image, Eric felt his mind take a step backwards.

“You and Sean aren’t together,” he asked, his mouth racing forward to fill the surprise his mind felt.

“Not exactly,” Davie answered him, that flush flashing across his face again. “It’s... We slept together two nights ago,” Davie’s voice had dropped to almost a whisper. “I don’t think we will be doing it again. We work on the same ward and he’s senior to me, it’s not a good idea, I think.”

“You should go for it, you two make a lovely couple,” Eric said. “Bugger what everyone else says. Loads of people told me that Justin wasn’t right for me, and if I’d listened to them... Well, I won’t have had the great times we’ve had together... Life’s too short.” He’d reached over and squeezed Davie’s hand. It had just been a relax action but Eric was rewarded by a broad smile from the young man.

“Thank you, I’ll remember that,” Davie said. “I’ve got to go for my break now, but I won’t forget your sandwich.”

Eric had nodded his reply as Davie left the room.

Shortly after they moved to London Justin had insisted that Eric had a HIV test, so he’d arranged one with a private clinic that guaranteed results within twenty-four hours, not the four to six weeks waits he would have had to endure elsewhere. Eric had waited in the little garden opposite the clinic all afternoon for his results. When it was time, the thin doctor who’d taken his blood the day before, simply gave him his result:

“Sorry mate but its positive.”

Eric didn’t hear anything else the man said, though he had been preparing himself for this.

When he returned home he told Justin that it had been negative, he couldn’t inflict that knowledge on Justin, he needed Justin to fight this, so he’d lied. He never did tell Justin the truth.

He must have dosed off after he’d eaten his cheese sandwich because he was woken up by Davie returning to Justin’s room, though he was now dressed in jeans and a stripped top, a canvas jacket over his shoulder.

“I’m going off duty now. I wanted to say goodnight,” Davie said, his body barely slipping past the door and into the room. “Thanks for the advice,” again Davie’s voice dropped to that almost whisper, “Sean’s giving me a lift home.”

“Goodnight, thanks for everything,” Eric replied.

Once Davie had closed the door again, Eric stood up and stepped up to Justin’s bed. He then bent down and kissed Justin on the check, his lips lingering in that dry kiss, even though there was no response from Justin.

“I love you,” he said as he straightened up again, “and I’m so sorry.”