Never a Hero

young and stupid and careless, and now I’ve brought this thing—this illness—into my family like some kind of curse. I feel my mother watching me, and my father weighing his words.”
    “I think you’re imagining it.” Much as I’d imagined people staring at my missing arm, I realized.
    He shook his head. “I’m not.”
    “Then that’s all the more reason you should enjoy it now.” I took a deep breath and I reached out to take his hand. “Why we should enjoy it.”
    He pulled his hand away, and some fragile thing inside me broke. With a single gesture, he’d crushed every ounce of my hope. I hated how much it hurt. “Nick?”
    “You have it backwards. Don’t you see? This is exactly why it can’t work between us. It’s exactly why you should find somebody else. Because I can’t ask you to spend every holiday with me, wondering if it will be the last one.”
    “And what about me? I take it I have no say in the matter?”
    He jaw clenched, but he didn’t answer.
    I couldn’t pity him, though. Not this time. I’d accepted his reasoning again and again, but it wore a bit thinner each time. How did both of us being miserable make things right? How was being alone better than being happy?
    I wanted to reach for him. To hold him and kiss him and comfort him. To push against his boundaries until he accepted that I could help him, but I couldn’t take being rejected again.
    I stood up, dislodging Betty and Bonny as I did.
    “Where are you going?”
    “Home.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I’m tired of watching you act like some kind of martyr.”
    “Martyr?” he said, standing up to face me. “Is that what you think? You think I chose this? You think I’m doing it on purpose?”
    He was angry now, but I didn’t back down. I was tired of giving in. “Do you have some other explanation?”
    “I didn’t choose to be sick.”
    “No, but you choose to let it define you.”
    “You don’t understand.”
    “I understand plenty. You say it’s not just about you? Well, you’re wrong. This is about you. It’s about your issues. Not AIDS, but your determination to let it dictate how you spend the rest of your life.”
    “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “I think I do. You’ve used it as an excuse to push me away time and again, but to what end, Nick? For what purpose? Just to prove how noble you are? Well, it’s bullshit. You try to hide behind your family, or behind claims that this is all for my own good, but the truth is, you’re determined to keep punishing yourself for something that happened five years ago. I’m tired of it, Nick. I’ll be your friend, or I’ll be your lover, but I won’t be the instrument of your self-flagellation.”
    He turned away, hiding his expression. I didn’t know if he was angry or wounded or both. At that moment, I didn’t care. I only wanted to leave before my anger gave way to tears.

As we moved deeper into December, dread loomed over me with the black persistence of a cartoon rain cloud, dogging my steps both inside and out. With each passing day, the piano recital drew closer. And so did the visit from my parents.
    My mother called a few days before they were scheduled to arrive. I hoped she was calling to cancel, but no such luck.
    “Your dad told me we have to stay in a hotel.”
    “I only have one bed at my place, Mom. The second bedroom is my office.”
    “Your office? What in the world do you need an office for?”
    “For m-my work.”
    I didn’t need to see her to know she was rolling her eyes. “Really, Owen. I don’t see why you can’t get a real job.”
    I didn’t bother asking what exactly made my job insufficient. I didn’t bother trying to defend the fact that my second bedroom held a desk instead of a bed. I sat there, listening to her complain about every aspect of my life, and I felt myself shrinking, becoming the child I’d once been, barely able to speak without stuttering.
    A hundred times I thought about quitting the recital completely. I thought about excuses I could make to June and Amelia. I thought of lies I could tell my parents to keep them from visiting, each one more ridiculous than the last. I had the flu. I had measles. My house had been condemned. In the end, I did nothing, and time marched on.
    My argument with Nick continued to weigh on me as well. I was heartsick over him. I saw him every day, and yet he was more distant than ever. I felt as if he’d deserted me. I wanted my fun,