I look at the white sachet again, with dark blue writing on it. I sigh. I pick my phone from the bed again, get straight to my google app, type and search. I laugh alone, at the possibility of someone ever accessing my google account history, especially this one of today. I know if it was my babaa stumbling upon this google history, it wouldn’t be a laughing matter anymore. He would be worried sick and probably enroll me to counselling. He would say something like, ‘My daughter, this is not the end of the world.’ Cliché. I know, but those words am sure would save a life. Other people though, would avoid me like a plague, but wasn’t getting HIV the same as getting a plague. Nop.
The results for the search come and I hesitantly touch on the first link on the search. ‘Early symptoms of HIV.’ The results drop on the screen, a series of symptoms. Fatigue…check. Fever…check. Headaches…check. Nausea…check. Joint pains…check. My hands get cold and sweaty at the same time. I put my phone down again and hold the white sachet boldly branded Oraquick test. I have to do this today. He did it too. That sparks some courage inside me, and it sort of warms my heart. I love him and the experience with him feels like fine wine, not the passing fad kind but the old kind that sits in a magnificent underground cellar in a grapevine estate.
I sigh again and tear the sachet open. Doubts come rushing inside me and I think for a long second. He won’t know if I just threw the sachet in the bin and just texted him that I had tested. I had promised to send a photo of it. So I guess, here comes nothing! I read the instructions in the sheet of paper and it clearly indicates when the tests turn out negative and when it turns out positive. A certain sense of am doing this for him but mostly for my peace of mind strikes. I know I haven’t had a good history with my previous love escapades but if this was going to be a time of reckoning, so be it.
The food on the table tastes different today. It is sort of cold. Bitter and hard to swallow. The family conversations at the dinner table seem to just hit me in the far background. Yes, I hear people speak. My babaa making his usual jokes and my sister laughing her heart out but for me, this night I will not engage. Let me remain silent just for today. I mean am about to know if am going to start taking drugs every day or not. The pills would be hard to swallow just like the food on the table. I know. The thought feels like death by a thousand paper cuts. I had quickly removed the test stick and rubbed it on my gums and put it on the reagent. He said it only takes 20 minutes. It’s been half the time but I feel like it’s been hours. I can’t eat anymore, maybe texting people on my contact list would help keep me calm.
I see his text pop up on my screen. ‘Baby, how are you…’ My mind takes detours. I am tempted to reply that am not fine. That I have a strong feeling that I might test positive for the HIV test. I am tempted to say that I haven’t been at all clean with my history of lovers. I am tempted to say that I am scared that he might also test positive after 3 months and I might lose him. On one of those late evenings, when we were just relaxing, me cuddling on his arms, I had asked him why he liked me. He had slowly traced the outline of my arm, connecting them with invisible lines like a dot to dot. ‘How could I not?’ he had replied while cupping my face in his hands and kissing me passionately. It hits that it would actually wreck me if I lost him. I am scared to tell him that I am not really as courageous as he thinks I am. I reply to his text…am fine, I have just had dinner.
We talk for about an hour and seemingly he avoids to mention the test. He realized that he would have to cross the rivers of Babylon to make me take that test with him. He had seen my reaction earlier, of doubts. He is giving me a free pass on this one. His one of those gentle souls that never want to force anyone to do anything. But again, gentle souls warrant for openess and trust. I put my phone down and walk to the bedroom and into the wardrobe, pick the stick from the reagent. My heart skips a dead beat then thumps hard in a fast rhythm. My hands tremble, and there it is, the tests, as visible as braille on a white board…one red line. I am tempted to scream my lungs out…but I contain my happiness. A feeling of satisfaction and pride overwhelms me. I pick the reagent and the stick and put it on my table, pick my phone and take a photo. I send the image to him with a caption beneath it…Baby I did it!!I tested negative…