Love Is A Battlefield

This the fourth and last of the short stories I came up with one day back in October of 1991 when I was feverishly ill. I wrote it in what I call the 4th-person style... two people conversing about a third... that third person is the focus of the story, and is someone the reader is only supposed to meet through these conversations. Sounds screwy, but after finally typing this story out,  I decided to meld all four of the separate stories into something larger. I wrote another 200-pages and flipped between the characters and styles to get the whole story out.
Not being a real writer at that time, I didn't know that switching between narrative styles was a no-no. But, you know what? Screw that! This is writing! Rules? That makes for a boring story! I figure a real writer should just write and let his/her characters tell the story the way they want to tell the story. That's the way it came out in my head - that's the way it should come out in the story. For better or for worse, here's is the story I call (non-originally):  

LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD

 By Andrew S. Joseph

Dusk arrives a little bit later everyday now in the sleepy little port of Gary, Indiana. In a community Green Area, a lone cricket chirps its mating call from somewhere in the nearby grass. The carpet of brown still hasn't recovered from the foulness of the winter just past. Two men sit holding hands on the recently painted park bench.

 "... so then he said I had to move my ass and get out of his way. So, I looked at him, smiled and said, `Decisions, decisions.' He looked at me funny because he didn't quite catch what I meant. It was sooo hilarious. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Whew! Ha! So, what do you think, Curt?... Curt?... Curt?!... Are you listening to me? I mean, honestly Curtis, don't even try and tell me I've been talking to myself for the last 15 minutes!"

 "Okay, I won't."

 "So, c'mon, then... tell me what's wrong. It's better if you talk about it, you know."

 "Well, I just heard today that my friend William - sniff -"

 "What is it, Curt? What about William?"

"He got some bad news from the doctor today. He's got AIDS."

 "..."

 "He's got AIDS and he's going to die. It's as simple as that, Frankie. As simple as that.... It's not fair, man. It's not fair!... He never hurt anybody. Now it's like he's on Death Row or something. Waiting to die......... Hold me, Frankie."

 "Geez, Curt, that's rough... um, y'know, I mean, we all have to go sometime, I guess... Y'know, the strange thing is, I didn't even know he was one of us."

 "He's not, you idiot! He's not gay!. I just... I just said he was mu-mu-my friend... (sigh)..."

 "I wish he was one of us. He's so cute."

 "Frankie!"

 "..., um, I'm sorry."

 "... yeah... Uh, (sigh) he contracted the HiV virus from his girlfriend... Apparently she got it from before they met. She doesn't even know she has it."

"What do you mean by that, Curt?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, Frankie. She must have got it years ago before she and William started going out."

"Yeah, but, well, maybe he got it from someone else before he met her?"

"Naw. Lois was his first one ever. Y'know what I mean?... No, she probably got it a long time ago and has been carrying it around with her all this time... I guess it's just her curse to just transmit the disease, but never fall victim to it herself."

"I guess she's one of the lucky ones, eh, Curt?"

"I don't know... I really don't know... He's going to have to tell her, y'know. What do you suppose this knowledge is going to do to her? She's killed him and God knows how many before him..."

"Christ..."

"Frankie?... I'm sorry I yelled at you before... It's just that I was -"

"I know, I know. Now shut-up and let me hold you."

Later in the Spring, with the evening sunlight lengthening their shadows, two young men sit in their regular spot, holding hands. It's a weekly ritual for them and their neighbours, who have become quite blasé of the once racy behaviour.

The sun is now sitting rather low in the horizon. Purple clouds hover amid a pink and blue sky. Sworls of male gnats fly in tiny circles - slaves to the whims of the gentle breeze that blows them.

 "... -lems of William just never seem to slow down now."

 "What happened, Curt?"

 "Last night he told Lois that he had contracted AIDS. He said she reacted with the standard amount of horror and disgust."

 "I bet she was angry, huh?"

 "No bet there. He then told her he had never slept with a man or done drugs or ever received a blood transfusion."

 "Oh, yeah."

"Uh-huh. Then she really exploded. She started yelling and screaming and throwing things at him. She accused him of sleeping around with other women!"

"No!"

"Yes, Frankie! He denied it of course, but she kept cursing him out. Then he laid the bombshell. I guess he must have been pretty pissed off at her behaviour, because he didn't sugar-coat it or anything. He just calmly said that the only way he got it was through sexual contact with her. I'm told she just looked at him like he was from Mars or something. She just sort of stood there saying nothing. He then told her he had never slept with any other person since he met her or before he met her."

"Good for him! I bet she started crying, huh, Curt?"

"Eventually. It seemed to take awhile before she understood that it probably was her fault. William had always told her that she was his first. Conversely, Lois was always pretty open with him about her sexual past."

"Yeah, yeah. So, then what happened?" 

"She ran out of her house screaming about something. This, I guess. Anyhow, she hopped into her car and drove off... they found her car plowed against the side of a 7-11 about 20 minutes later. Dead. Just like the man she fucked is going to be."

 "Shiiiiit."