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I always thought that Brett was a beautiful name. There was a kid in my class in grade school named Brett. I always felt close to him, but he never seemed to know I was alive. I got over it. Now of course I'm much older, working for a living, I'm an architect for a moderate sized firm. We do commercial buildings, big ones, and the money is very good. My name is Bartholomew but my friends call me Bart. I'm 36 years old and I'm gay. It was about five years ago, just a little over that, when I met this other guy named Brett, the one I want to tell you about. He came in to our office as an apprentice. He was still in college at the time, working his way through, wanting to be an architect also. I knew right away he was gay, not to put him down, or anything, but he was sort of a stereotyped guy. Brett was small and cute and his speech was very effeminate. You could tell that he didn't care who knew. I liked that about him, I liked how he sort of flaunted it. I was still in the closet at the time. Brett helped me, he helped me a lot. I'll never forget him as long as I live. He was a very friendly guy, very open, and he didn't take any bullshit from anyone about being gay. I think one reason he flaunted it so much was to see if people could take it. For those who couldn't, it was never Brett that was going to back down. He was a very brave guy, right up to the end. He taught me a lot, and I miss him. I had been through a few relationships already. In college there was Bill. We hit it off right away. I met him through the gay and lesbian student group, he was the treasurer. He was blond and butch and a very big guy. We had some terrible fights though. Bill was very possessive. I finally broke it off after a year and a half. Then there was Pete. We met in a bar. You never think of a bar as a place to meet a lover, but we were lovers. Pete was sweet and so cuddly. He ended up moving to New York for a job in TV. We wrote each other for a long time, then he got "married" and we wrote less and less often. Pete flew out here to Chicago though for the funeral last week. I guess old lovers can sometimes still be friends. It still hurts, I know it will take a while, at least I had time to get prepared. Before he died Brett had asked me to promise him that I would see other guys, start dating again, get out and mix. I said I would, but I didn't say when. It's going to take a while, I need to think about Brett for a while, think about us, put it to rest. Brett was mostly Swedish. His family was all in Illinois so we saw them a lot. His mother was very good to me right from the start. He was open with them about being gay, and they loved him, and if I was with Brett I was a part of their family too. He didn't want his mother to know he was sick, but we couldn't keep it from her very long. He got so thin, he lost his energy, near the end he could hardly even speak. It's really hard for me to talk about all of this, I keep crying all the time, but I thought it might help if I wrote about it, so I can read it later, and maybe show it to people. It's not fair damn it! It's just not fair. Why did it have to be him ? Why not me ? Sometimes I get so sad I don't want to get out of bed. I wake up and he is not there, and the bed is so big, and I grab a pillow and I just start to cry. I have dreams too, dreams about Brett, he is smiling but I am just crying. I want to die too. We never figured out how he got it. It wasn't from me. I guess it just doesn't matter, he's gone now. But I feel like I should have gone with him. I feel empty. I'm just all hollow inside. Everybody keeps calling me, how am I doing, am I OK? "If you want to talk...", "Come over for dinner...", "Take as much time off as you need..." I kind of just mumble and say "thank you" and that's all I can do right now. Linda, Brett's sister, she's so nice, she is staying here with me for a while. She does the cooking and the laundry and she hugs me a lot and she tries to get me to talk. I think she's worried I'm going to do something, but I'm not. Brett made me promise. At least his pain is over, he is not suffering now. It got really bad at the end. I loved him so much. I really did. He was everything I ever wanted in life. He was happy. He was funny. He was the most affectionate guy that I ever met. He did all kinds of crazy things too, bizarre things, just to make people laugh. One time we had some friends over for dinner. He got up to get the dessert. When he came back from the kitchen he was wearing nothing at all but an apron. We laughed for a half an hour at that one. He loved to make people laugh. Why did you have to go Brett ? I miss you. About a week after he started working in the office he asked me to go to lunch with him. I had been staring at him a lot, he was so cute, but I never thought he'd be interested in me. So we were sitting sort of off by ourselves in this restaurant near the loop, and he looked me right in the eyes and he asked me if I was OK.
"What do you mean am I OK?"
"Is your life OK ? How are you doing? Do you have a lover?"
"A lover ? No, um, I'm OK I guess."
"Look Bartholomew, I've seen you looking at me. Are you OK?"
"Call me Bart please. No, I'm not OK. I'm lonely."
And that was when it all started. He took me under his wing and he taught me about pride, and I came out to my family, and before very long I was in love with Brett. He moved in with me when he finished college. He got a job with another firm in Chicago. He did really well, we both did. We took wonderful trips together. One summer we went to Greece together for 3 weeks. We went to India too. I don't know what I'm going to do now. I feel like my life is over. Why bother with anything ? I sit and I look out the window at the lake, the whitecaps out on the water, I think of the wind in his hair. Everything reminds me of Brett, I can't help it. I cry so much that my eyes hurt. It's not fair. I hate this disease. I wish I had been the one, but then he would be sitting here crying. I don't know what I wish. I feel like it's all my fault, but it can't be, I don't have it. I feel like I should have gotten it too, to go with him. I wonder if he is out there somewhere, if there really is anything after. I'm not eating very much, I just sit here. Sometimes Linda comes up to me, and she puts her hands on my shoulders, and she just stands there behind me. It's been four days now since the funeral. She wants to help, and I'm glad she is here. Her husband came over last night for dinner. He hugged me really hard. Bill wasn't too friendly there for a while, he's very religious. But when Brett got really sick he seemed to change, he opened up to us. He's a nice guy deep inside, most people are. It was the sweating that made us suspicious. Brett would sweat so bad at night. We had a fight about it and he finally said he would go to the clinic. I took the day off and went with him too. It took two weeks to get the results, but by then the sweating was really bad, and we both knew, but I thought I must have had it too. His was positive, mine was negative. We hardly talked that night, I just hugged him. He fell asleep and I just laid there watching him breathe. It was the first night that I cried. I knew what was going to happen. Then he started to get tired all the time. I wanted to tell his family immediately, but he said no. His mother could tell there was something wrong though. You know how mothers are. Right away his T cell count was too low. He started getting sick within weeks. Then his appetite went, and the wasting started. He got so thin so terribly fast. And then there were all of the infections, and the Karposi's Sarcoma. He had lesions all over his body just before it ended. Please God let him come back to me. Let me just hug him one more time. If only I could, I would give up everything. Brett, dear Brett, you were so good to me, we were good together. I hate this disease. Here comes Linda, she wants me to come to dinner. Maybe I'll ask her if we can go out for a walk later, get some fresh air. That might help. I need to get out of here.
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