As Luis approached the front lawn, the little boy dropped the baseball and flung him a wary glance. Luis's uncle rose from a rocking chair on the front porch and nodded in his direction. “What can I do for you?” his uncle asked.
Luis had prepared what he was going to say ahead of time. He knew his uncle had a good friend in San Franciso, a guy he occasionally referred to as Chip. “My name is Mike Masters. A guy named Chip told me to look you up when I got to Tennessee. I'm passing through on my way to New York and he said you might put me up for the night. I'm sorry I can't pay you anything. I don't have any money.” He also knew his uncle had a soft heart and he wouldn't turn away someone in need of help. “I'd be willing to work for my keep.”
Luis's uncle descended the steps and crossed the lawn to where Luis stood. The little boy remained still, gaping at this stranger who seemed to have arrived from nowhere. The uncle looked him up and down and rubbed his jaw. He was even better looking than Luis had remembered him in 1986. “I'm Frank. If Chip sent you here, I suppose I can put you up for the night. I have to take my nephew home. His mother and father took his twin brother to the hospital to have his tonsils out and I've been babysitting for a couple of days. I shouldn't be gone long. They only live a few miles away. You can come if you want.”
Luis had forgotten all about his tonsils being removed. Though he was curious, he didn't want to see his mother or father. This would have been too much for him the handle. The last time he'd seen them they'd kicked him out of the house; it had taken years to forgive them for this. They'd died while he was living in New York. They were bible carrying Christians who would never accept him as a gay man, not in the future and not in 1986, and he knew there was nothing he could do to change that. “I'll wait right here on the porch,” Luis said. “I don't mind.” Some things were better left alone.
Luis glanced at the garage at the back of the house and saw the back of his uncle's Grand National and he smiled. It looked exactly like Jase's car. He knew his uncle babied the car and didn't drive it often; he hated getting it dirty.
Luis's uncle pulled the keys to his old white pick up truck out of his pocket and glanced at the little boy. “Let's go, Eddie. I'm sure your mom and pop will be anxious to see you.”
Eddie dropped the baseball and walked toward the truck with the same cocky swagger he would one day have as an adult. On the way, he stopped, glanced up at Luis, and said, “You look like someone I know, mister.”
Luis felt a chill pass through his body. “I do?” Eddie always was a little creepy that way.
Eddie nodded yes; he continued to stare at him.
“C'mon, Eddie,” the uncle said. “Let's get moving. You've never seem him.”
Before he climbed into the truck, Eddie glanced over his shoulder and smiled. This time the smile caught Luis off guard and his jaw dropped. When the uncle saw Luis's surprised reaction, he laughed and said, “Looks like you saw a ghost.”
Later that night, Luis's uncle made fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Luis had three helpings and plopped into a rocking chair on the front porch after he insisted on washing and drying the dishes. The one thing that worried Luis about seeing his uncle as an adult was that his uncle might be attracted to him. But his uncle treated him like any other guest. He didn't say or do anything inappropriate that would embarrassed Luis. It was simply understood, as if they both shared an unspoken bond, that nothing would happen.
After dinner, they sat on the front porch and talked about San Francisco and the uncle's friend, Chip. Luis listened more than he spoke. He spoke with care so he wouldn't say the wrong thing. He'd been to San Francisco enough times to know the city in a basic sense, but he never went into detail about anything. He admitted he didn't even know Chip very well. He didn't come right out and say it aloud, but he implied, with a sheepish smile, that he and Chip had been casual lovers who only knew each other because they'd slept together a few times. His uncle seemed to believe this and he didn't probe for more information.
At first, Luis thought this was because his uncle was being polite. But then he noticed something deep and dark in his uncle's tone, as if he didn't really care what Luis said. So Luis decided to change the subject and talk about politics. He remembered how his uncle didn't have much faith in the President at the time, Ronald Reagan. And this was because Ronald Reagan refused to do anything to acknowledge or help people with AIDS. For a President to simply ignore a reality as significant as AIDS, it seemed unforgivable to Luis's uncle.
Luis made a snide remark about the President, hoping his uncle would be impressed. But his uncle closed his eyes, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. Then he buried his face in his hands and started crying. Luis sat there in stunned silence, waiting for him to stop, wondering what to do next.
When he did stop crying, Luis glanced at him and asked, “Is there anything I can do?” Luis wasn't sure why his uncle was crying. He couldn't remember if his uncle had gone through any serious issues in 1986. Even if he had, Luis's parents wouldn't have mentioned it openly.
His uncle exhaled and said, “I just found out I have AIDS. You're the first person I've said it aloud to. I never thought I'd live a long life. But I never thought it would be this short.”
A lump formed in Luis's throat. He never knew exactly when his uncle had been diagnosed with AIDS. Growing up, he'd heard his parents talking about this, too, always with hushed tones and snide comments about what a deviant sinner his uncle was. Luis remembered his uncle had to stop working in the late 1980's and sell his Grand National. The small farm fell into disrepair to the point where the uncle had to move into an old trailer on the property. His uncle had been one of the more fortunate people diagnosed with AIDS in 1986, if there was such a thing. He'd managed to live long enough for HIV drugs like AZT to be developed. He started taking the drugs and his life improved for a while. To be able to afford these drugs, he sold off large chunks of farmland to maintain a meager existence in the rusted, dented trailer. Eventually, money ran out and he couldn't afford the exorbitant costs of the medications anymore; he didn't have medical insurance that covered prescription drugs. So he stopped taking them and tried all kinds of organic remedies that didn't work.
In the future, Luis would always feel so hopeless ... often guilty ... about the last years of his uncle's life. Luis's parents did nothing to help the uncle; they held their bibles and said it was God's will. Luis would be in New York by then, working hard to make enough money to help his uncle get back on the HIV meds. Luis sent him money whenever he could. But his uncle wouldn't last long enough to see Luis succeed in life. He died at the same time Luis met Jase and became a male model; just when things started getting better financially. By this time, it was too late.