Look Away Silence (31 page)

“You’ll need help,” he said.

I didn’t think so. I could push this thing, I was
sure of it. However, Eagleton was an old colonial building set on
parkland. There were stretches of lawn to negotiate. Have you ever
pushed a wheel chair over grass? I hadn’t, nor could I. Matt
managed to get out and walk beside me.

“If you’re going to walk, I wouldn’t have bothered
with the fucking chair.”

“I think we’ll be needing it,” he said.

He nodded toward the starting point, some hundred
yards away over prime hill and dale.

“It’s sidewalks after that,” Hank said. “We’ll
manage together.”

The grounds filled up quickly. I stood on a line
with sponsor sheets and money. There was a special queue for last
names between P and S. The volunteer tent was filled with staff,
taking sheets, counting heads, issuing badges and, for those who
raised over five-hundred dollars, a gift windbreaker with the event
emblazoned on the front and a dozen sponsor logos on the back.

“Look what I have for you,” I announced to Matt.

He was holding court — at least five walkers bubbled
over him as a reason for the event — a cause in the flesh. Sammy
was correct. Matt put a face on activism and it was making a
difference.

“For me?” he asked, hoisting himself out of the
wheelchair. He had help. His courtiers steadied him and helped him
put the windbreaker on. Even zipped it up for him. He was eating it
up, and that pleased me. It had become more than just a day
out.

“Snooks,” came a voice.

“Leslie. Ginger.”

The girls were fully running-suited and
sunglass-shaded, both carrying a bottle of water in one hand and an
event windbreaker in the other. Leslie let one of the jackets slip
to the ground. I picked it up.

“You keep it,” she said. “We went over the thousand
dollar mark and got two each.”

Hank got the other extra.

“And a mug,” Ginger said, presenting that to Matt,
who received like an Academy Award.

“Over a thousand?” I said. “Impressive.”

“I have the attorney connection,” Leslie said.

“They’re good for something,” Ginger said, getting a
smirk. “Well, there’s only one lawyer that I have ever loved and
there are days.”

“There could be more days like that, if you keep it
up.”

Leslie tickled Ginger, and my Matt roared. My heart
was filled to the brim. There was something inspiring in this
activism stuff if it could bring joy to my cowboy’s heart.

We moseyed over to the water tent. There were
speeches being delivered by the local politicians, who had to
compete with the local rock radio truck that blared out over the
early morning mist. The sun was just making its presence known.
Matt walked gingerly to the tent, and then sat in the wheelchair,
just as the Kielers arrived. If anyone deserved to be gay
activists, it was the Kielers.

“Did you check in, Mom?” Matt asked.

Louise waved her windbreaker and smiled.

“We collected up a storm, Newt,” Mary said, bending
down, kissing her brother’s forehead. It was nice to see Matt get
all these maskless kisses.

“Looks like the sun will shine after all,” Sammy
said, shading his eyes.

“Are you going to make the whole walk, Dad?” Matt
asked. “Your back’s a bit . . .”

“Don’t you worry about my back,” he said. “Besides,
if it kicks up, I’ll evict you from that wheel chair.”

“I really don’t need it,” Matt said. “Pumpkin’s
fussy.”

I smacked him — a love tap that got me a love punch
— a weak love punch. I straightened his cowboy hat. I had padded
the inside so it looked fuller than it was. At least it stayed on
his head now.

“Can I walk with you guys?” came a voice.

It was Jasper and a handsome stranger, who I took to
be his latest squeeze. Well, his only squeeze. I was glad that
someone had recognized the wonderful qualities in Jasper’s heart,
ignoring the goofy cover of this most enchanting book.

“Sure, guy,” I said.

“This is Rudi,” he said. “He’s German.”

Rudi extended a hand.
German Rudi.
How
eclectic.

“’Sgood ta meet ya,” he said. “Jazper haz good
thingz about you said.”

I smiled.
I bet
, I thought. Then I realized
that Jasper was beaming. This was his trophy date and they both
wore windbreakers, so we represented quite a bit of ca-chink.

“I think it’s beginning,” Louise said. “Where do we
go?”

“Follow me,” Hank said.

We proceeded at a slow pace, Matt carefully, and me
pushing the wheelchair over the bumps and grinds of the downhill
lawn. There walked beneath a rainbow arch made of balloons — quite
triumphal. Matt squeezed my arm, although Mary and Sammy maintained
his balance.

“Welcome to AIDS Walk New Jersey,” came a shrill,
Nancy voice over a bullhorn. “You are all angels today. Walk with
pride. We’ll have cars for those who can’t make the whole circuit
and there will be water all along the route. You are the special
ones — the ones that care. In your hearts the Hyacinths bloom. Good
bless and have a great walk.”

A cheer went up and we were off, moving in a
procession down to the sidewalk at the base of George Street where
we would promenade through downtown New Brunswick up to the Rutgers
University campus, and then on a circuit through Buccleuch Park.
Two thousand of us — friends, family, the well and the ill, babes
in arms and in strollers, wheelchair bound and the walking wounded.
Down to the road we went.

When we reached the road that ducked under US Hwy 1,
Matt mounted his wheelchair like a buckaroo yahoo on a holiday. As
I moved forward fulfilling my role as
the Pusher
, Louise
stayed me with a hand on my shoulder. I turned.

“Wait for me,
Shithead,
” came a voice.

There she was, pounding down the lawn in platform
shoes, quite the wrong thing for walking. But when did Viv ever
recognize such little things like the law of gravity. I didn’t
care. A windbreaker fluttered behind her and also, trailing her at
a small distance, was someone I didn’t expect. Frank Perkins —
Insurance Broker turned Gay Activist.

“Well, will you look at that,” I said.

“You shouldn’t be so surprised, Martin,” Louise
said. “Mothers come in all varieties, but are mothers nonetheless.
Go greet her. Sammy will push.”

“Bad back and all,” he said.

At that moment, I finally understood the true spirit
of this activism thing. It moved me to my mother’s side as we
followed thousands of windbreakers, angel wings that lifted us all
to see face of God.

I first noticed that Matt was having eye problems
during the AIDS walk. He squinted that entire day and, at times,
twisted about looking for his Mom and Dad. I didn’t say much then,
because that was a good day — the best. However, I soon discovered
that the busy work that Axum gave him was returned for correction.
His usual productivity was off and that was to be expected. I never
connected it with his eyes. He rested them more often, but
computers are villains when it comes to vision stain. I suggested
that he take a few days off from whatever project he was working
on, but he was resentful, snapping at me like an old turtle. I
needed to divert him away from the work; give him some
entertainment. His birthday was coming up on September
5
^th
, so I thought a little cake and a few bowls of mixed
crap would be a fine gesture. I would have just a few people over —
Hank, Leslie, Ginger, Mary, Jasper and German Rudi. Only the young
crowd. I didn’t need the parents there, his or mine — although Viv
could certainly liven things up.

“So Pumpkin, will this be a surprise party?”

“It will be, if I survive it,” I said.

I did not intend to try to follow the forms of
surprise. I planned a simple menu and went to the party store for
decorations. However, I couldn’t go much beyond that. In fact, I
hinted that everyone should bring a covered dish. I had nightmares
thinking what Leslie and Ginger would concoct, and I envisioned one
of Mary’s sour Cherry pies. However, Hank baked a mean Lasagna and
Jasper didn’t need to bring anyone but himself and his
guy-
Strudel.
He did bring the baked beans.

Unfortunately, there was a string of
bad
days
, Matt resorting to the hospital bed for the last week of
August. Some days he was so weak I barely got him into the bathroom
in time. We had that
choo choo
train walk down to a science
— him in front and me, gripped to his waist, pushing like a back
engine. I had outfitted the bathroom like the hospital with
handrails and hoists. You should have seen me wielding a
screwdriver, which I always thought was an orange juice cocktail
until that day. I also had fun with epoxy, installing rubber foot
grips in the tub and a shower seat. I also got a pulsating
showerhead, the kind that can be removed and hand held. So once we
would do the
choo choo
train walk, I usually could leave him
alone in there. However, he fell once and once forgot to lower the
toilet set and wound up in the drink. One morning he shaved and
came out covered in cuts. It was then that I put two and two
together.

He can’t see his face in the mirror.

We discussed postponing the little get-together
party, but he wanted it. I kept everyone away on
bad days.
So Matt was hankering for the company.

“I’ll pull it together, Pumpkin.”

“You’ll go to the doctors before it,” I
commanded.

“Of course.”

But I knew he wanted to argue with me on that
account. He hated doctor visits — all the poking and prodding.
However, I was also due for my quarterly HIV test, so I gave him no
choice. The doctor never said much anyway. It was as if he was
measuring a downhill race and the finish line was already set. On
this visit we faced the news that Matt’s T Cell count was under
fifty. I assumed a change in the med cocktail was in order, but the
doctor didn’t change a thing. He gave Matt another prescription for
the skin lesions, which were as plentiful as asparagus in May. He
also had him follow his finger — first left and then right. Matt
told a joke about
how many fingers do I have up where
, but
Doctor Farrell, who usually chuckled at Matt’s quips, just smirked,
and then placed one hand on each of Matt’s shoulders.

“Rest your eyes as much as you can, son,” he
said.

“But how can I see to work.”

“Can you see to work now?”

Silence. That was a
bad day.

Hank helped me move the hospital bed into the
bedroom. The thing was massive and barely got through the door.
With our queen-size bed mid floor, the hospital bed made for an
obstacle course. However, if we were going to have company, we
couldn’t very well have the bed in the living room. They would
understand. But what kind of a celebration would that be with the
evidence in full view.

Then Matt came around. He slept with me and even ran
the gamut between the hospital bed and the dresser without breaking
anything, especially his toes. No
choo choo
walk to the
bathroom either. However, I noticed that Matt was doing this by
counting steps. I needed to remember now not to move anything or
he’d go ass over heels, and he was too heavy to pick up when he was
out cold. I knew that from first hand experience.

“Come in,” I said. “The door’s open.”

I saw the cars pull up, so I got Matt to the sofa
with Hank’s help. It was a
tepid day —
good and bad becoming
a blur now. I wanted Matt to look his best, but he still needed
guidance that day to the place of honor. The door creaked open.

“It’s party time,” I said.

They were all here
en masse
— the whole
subdued group toting little gifts and gazing at my cowboy as he
doffed his hat from the sofa.

“Hi, guys,” Matt called from the couch, although I
suspected he couldn’t give me a head count. “Glad y’all could
come.”

“Hi, sweetie,” Ginger said.

There was a general round of kisses and hugs. The
parcels were stacked on the kitchen table. Hank dragged some chairs
in. Mary sat beside her brother. He sniffed.

“Hi, sis,” he said.

“How’s my Newt, today?” she said. She left out the
tickle. I think she knew that Matt was beyond tickling and a good
old-fashioned sibling wrestling match.

“We had a good day today, didn’t we?” I said from
the kitchen counter.

“It’s not crappy,” Matt said. “And now that you’re
here, it’s great. We do need a party. I miss the club shebangle.”
He frowned, slightly. “I miss many things.” He brightened. “But not
today. You’ll are here.”

“Mom and Dad send their love.”

“Are they coming? Pumpkin, are my Mom and Dad
coming?”

“They’ll stop by tomorrow, Matt,” I said. “We talked
about that. Remember? Only the young crowd today.”

“And who’s that with you, Jasper?” he asked.

“Itz Rudi,” German Rudi said. “Remember me from zie
AIDZ Valk?”

“Yes, I believe I do. Sit down. Have a drink.
Everyone have a drink on me. Welcome to my home.
Mi casa
is
su casa.
”

“Lots of good eats,” Hank said.

“I brought a pie,” Mary said.

“Cherry?” I asked.

“No. Strawberry-Rhubarb.”

Was she trying to kill us?

“That’s different.”

“Oh, I didn’t bake it myself. I’m not good at that
shit. I went to the Orchard for this one.”

I smiled. I loved
Delicious Orchards
, but
hadn’t shopped there in a while. There, price matched quality and
we were hovering over cat food after the Pharmaceutical companies
came through our budget.

“Hank made Lasagna,” I said.

“My world famous Lasagna.”

“Why, what’s the secret?” Leslie asked.