Page 60 of Disco Witches of Fire Island

Joe turned toward her with raised eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Well …” She giggled. “It’s not conflicted anymore. In fact, we’re talking about dating for real once I get a year clean.”

“I’m really happy for you,” Joe said, and he meant it.

“But it’s not just her—it’s the fact that this is the longest I’ve been sober since I was like twelve. I’m actually excited about a future. That’s a first for me.” She smiled. “See what I mean? Magic. Of course, Lenny is a big part of the reason.”

“Lenny? What does he have to do with it?”

“You didn’t know Lenny’s my AA sponsor?” Elena asked.

“What?” Joe took a second to absorb what Elena had said, but then gasped as he got it. “Holy crap, I thought all those ‘meetings’ he was setting up were euphemisms for kinky leather parties.”

Elena grabbed at her hair in embarrassment. “I’m an ass. So much for anonymity. Forget I said that.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll forget it.” Although he knew he wouldn’t. Then he wondered whether Lenny had been a drug addict like Elena or just a run-of-the-mill drunk, like the men who drank themselves into a stupor every day at Joe’s bar. “You think you really know people,” Joe mused out loud. “And the next thing you know, they surprise you … good and bad.”

“That’s what Dory says is the best thing about life: the surprises.”

“She’s the best,” Joe said. “Know what I still can’t figure out? How did a class act like her start hanging out with a pair of house cleaners like Howie and Lenny?”

“She met them out at a club after my grandfather died. That woman loves to disco dance. Or rather she did. I think she feels guilty experiencing joy while her friends are sick or dying.”

Joe squeezed his eyes tight until the blood red glow through his eyelids turned black and the peaceful feeling drained from his body. “I wish you hadn’t said that.” He folded his arms across his eyes.

“What?” Elena said. “It’s not like she can ignore it.”

“I know,” he said. “But I have to think about that shit all the time. I wake up, I think about AIDS; I go to bed, I think about AIDS. I came out here to forget, but each week I see these faces at my bar getting sicker. Some guys that had been regulars at the beginning of the summer have stopped coming. I just know they’ve either gotten sicker or died. I hate it.”

Elena fell silent. Joe turned on his side to see why. Her eyes were closed.

“Are you mad?” he asked. “Did I say something wrong?”

After a few moments, she opened her eyes and told Joe her own sad secret—a secret she had been keeping the whole summer. She too was HIV positive, her infection the result of dirty needles she’d shared with her ex. Her words came out sharp and detached. As he listened, a sense of numbness swallowed him.

“I haven’t gotten sick yet,” she said, as if to soften the news. “The truth is, I wouldn’t even have known I had it if my junkie ex hadn’t gotten PCP pneumonia. Most women get misdiagnosed and don’t get tested until they’re really sick. I was lucky to find out early. It helped me sober up and start taking care of my health.” She looked over at Joe, who was staring down at the sand. “Sorry I didn’t tell you before. I wanted to that night you told me about losing your boyfriend, to let you know I understood. But I just wasn’t ready for the pity. Know what I mean?”

Joe nodded and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“There are so many people way worse off than me out here,” she said. “By the way, you and Cleigh are the only ones who know. I haven’t even told Dory.”

Joe inhaled sharply. “You haven’t told Dory?”

“I know, I know.” Elena shook her head, more to herself than Joe. “I will—just not yet. Butnottellingyouhad become this block to our friendship, and I don’t want that. I really care about you, Joe.”

Joe felt as if he were sinking into quicksand while people all around him were stretching out their arms trying to save him. The only problem was, his saviors were drowning in their own quicksand.Will everyone I love die of this fucking disease?He remembered when Elliot had first told him. He wore that same expression Elena had right then—like a scared little child, staring at the sea, frightened that her friend might no longer love her. What was Joe supposed to say to someone who’d told him they had a disease that would probably kill them? That would cause the majority of the world to fear them?

“I care about you too,” Joe said. “I hate that you have it. I’m sorry—I know it’s selfish of me, but …” He screamed loudly out to the ocean: “I hate it!”

The two nudists in the distance sat up and looked over. A flock of seagulls down at the shore flew off, angrily squawking.

“Me too,” Elena said, and looked at him, unsure. “Is this gonna make it hard for us to be friends?”

Joe’s head felt heavy with conflicting thoughts, including the option to just start digging into the sand until he never had to see another human being who would break his heart. He scootched closer to Elena and gently tapped her sandy foot with his own. “No way,” he said. “But I’m telling you now: I’m not going to let you get sick. You need to stay healthy until there’s a cure. Promise?”

It was a pointless request, and Joe knew it. But he felt like he had to say it to Elena, to the beach, to the sea. He needed to say something to dampen the roar of his helplessness.

“I can’t promise, but I’ll try,” Elena said. “I do have this feeling that if you, Cleigh, and Dory hold onto my soul tightly enough, then maybe I won’t be able to die.”

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