As Told To Me By---

[V.K.- session 3: 12/28/90, East Detroit]

“When T.J. heard what I vowed to do, he told me on the phone ‘don’t be foolish’ but he isn’t in my shoes. ‘Ain’t nobody ever copped to doin drugs when they ain’t.’ I had to agree with him. Just living with reality  is bad enough which is why I ‘spose I left four years ago, but now I’m back and I won’t be leaving again. At least, not until they carry my outta the house. Last week, me and Drop Kick went into William’s Funeral Home on Woodward, and I picked out a mahogany casket with gold trim. It was flash with puffy white satin inside and gold handles. It not like anybody I know could afford it though, so it’ll have to be the cheap pine box. That’s why I’m doin this here with you. If I can get some money together, I’ll leave it in an envelope somewhere – maybe on the mantel above the fireplace - or what  used to be a fireplace before they bricked it up. That winter was bitchin cold and they had to do it to cut the heating bill.”

 A curled edged calendar hung from a nail in the kitchen wall, turned to the ‘next year’ page at the end of last year’s version. I wondered if his Nana squinted at the tiny grids mustered like army formations on the page every time she needed to see the date. What happened at the drug store that they would send a calendar for 1989 and not 1990? The house was the small, post war variety. If I had to guess, I would say there were two small bedrooms upstairs. The dining room table where we sat facing each other looked  faded and scratched, and the dried out wood frame windows let a frigid December wind flutter the curtains now and again. Vaughn was still talking -

“At night when I can’t sleep, which is  most nights, I go upstairs an look out over the neighborhood, or what I can see of it, now most streetlights are either broke or shot out. Seems like all the folks here ‘bouts called Detroit General Electric twenty times or more, but it ain’t never done much good. At least Philly kept the lights on, and I was making a good living out there, but then the virus caught me. Since Derrick died I felt like there was nobody left, and even though Mack and Screech said they could look after me, they still so young I didn’t wanna put that kind of burden on them. They got their own selves to worry about. ‘Sides, you  supposed to come home to die, right?”

[Interviewer: Many people do, yes. What happened when you showed up?]

“I been back six weeks now. Nana happy to have me home, but I stay in the basement now so I don’t disturb her none. A grown man ain’t the same as no teenager and my old room too small now. Plus, like I said I don’t sleep much an TV keep me occupied during the night. I got three more days this year to decide to tell her the truth or lie to her some more. Seems like she has a right to know the truth, but it might break her heart. Only thing is, the only lie that make any sense might do the same thing. My Mama, Nana’s daughter, die of an overdose when I was fourteen, and she took me in even though social security be barely enough for her ownself to live on. Nobody hear from my daddy in years. Nana make me promise not to get involved with drugs, an I made her a promise not to take them. East side bein what it is, a promise to avoid drugs be like sayin you gonna swim in the Detroit River but not get wet. Drugs be everywhere back then, and it the same now.  Drop Kick and me tried to steer clear by playing football – he was better’n me – and for the most part it worked. I was lucky DK already near full grown when we met, since I was jus a scrawny kid from Downriver, and he was so big even the dealers afraid of him. At least the ones hangin on our corners, the small timers dealin weed and smack.”

[Interviewer: “Tell me more about that.”]

“I felt bad leavin Nana alone when I left, but it just never felt like there was anything for me if I stayed. Not going to college, and more lines shuttin down everyday so it’s not like a job in working in the auto plants is likely. Not when the union has it all tied up so only senior people lucky enough to get their jobs back after a layoff, and you has to be tight with somebody to get a job at all. I figured my luck might be better out east, and Philly seemed enough like Detroit so I headed out there. Drop wanted to come but stayed behind, since he and Angela had a kid and she wanted to stay near her mama an sister, so it was only me. It was probably a good thing DK didn’t come with me, he wouldn’t be cool with how things turned out. I tol him the same thing I tol Nana, it’s the cancer that got me sick.

[Interviewer] “Why do you think it’s easier to tell your friends and family you have cancer?”

“I can’t see why it matter. I’m gonna die no matter what they call it.”

[Interviewer] “OK. (sound of paper shuffling) Can you tell me what led to this situation?”

“Yeah, sure. I tol you earlier I left when I was eighteen. I got a cousin in Philly who put me up for a spell when I first got out east, but then his wife have another kid and they ain’t got room for me anymore. It was ok though, since by that time I met T.J. and everyone.  We spent most nights and all the weekends hanging at  the loft T.J. inherit from his uncle, or at Derrick place. For a while, I jus bunked with whoever had room for me. Then me and Derrick realize we spend so much time together, I should just move in with him. When I look back, that whole time was the first time for me I felt like I belong somewhere. Most times, all of us not doin much but watching games on TV or playin cards. Sometime we shop at the thrift store for clothes. Weekends if we flush, we would go to the clubs – they had a few out there, not like here – and see who else was around. See who we could hook up with. Everybody knew everybody back then. You had to, it was a trust kinda thing. Same like with dealers; they ain’t have nothing to do with you unless you have someone to vouch for you; sometime police send someone undercover. Once Derrick and T.J. said they was cool with me, they accept me.  Derrick and me was together, but we didn’t make it like we couldn’t see anybody else if we wanted.”

[Interviewer] “Then what happened?”

“After me an Derrick got together?”

[Interviewer] “Yes.”

“Nothin happened. All of us got whatever work we could find, and like I said, stayed tight with our own little group. Sometimes somebody would get into something serious and they boyfriend join us for awhile, but it never usually lasted. Well, ‘cept for Georgie and Nick, they were a thing until Georgie died. Nick disappeared afterward – no one hear from him again. We all thought George getting sick last year was a fluke. Specially since he always be pretty healthy – bein careful about what he ate and pumping iron. He wanted to look good  at the club. We all wondered why it be him that get sick and not Smoke, since everybody know Smoke tricked for a living. He would hang sometimes, but a lot of times when we was goin out, he say he couldn’t since the weekend was prime time and he couldn’t waste it. Then Delilah  - that was her stage name but she like to be called that all the time – came up sick too. Only a couple of weeks before she was gone too. Pretty soon, more and more people we knew, turn up with the virus and die. We spent less time at the clubs and more time trying to take care of our friends, best we could.  A couple people from the Health Department made the rounds at the clubs and left flyers about AIDS, and tried to talk to us. Told us we should be using condoms and don’t shoot up with dirty needles. None of us did hard drugs, just a little weed to chill out or sometimes somebody might get speed to party, but I never liked it. We closed ranks after that and ain’t nobody go with nobody  we didn’t know. It didn’t help and still one after the other got sick ---.”

“Son! You home? I brought you ice cream so - " (click)

[Note: Interview interrupted when participant’s grandmother arrives. Five minutes elapsed until she went upstairs and shut the door.]  

Vaughn introduced me to his grandmother who didn’t hide her surprise at the little white girl at her table. He had to remind her that he agreed to talk to the researchers from the University. Did she remember the sista who had been here last week? He told her I was from the same project. As she put away the small bag of groceries, an unpleasant smell crept out of the decrepit  refrigerator and I wondered if it needed repair.  As they talked, I studied the threadbare oriental rug beneath the ornately carved chairs we sat in, the tape recorder in between us on the table.

[Interviewer] “ Is it OK to continue? Ok, so, why consider telling your grandmother you’re sick from using drugs? ”

“I ain’t never felt like I could tell the truth about how I am when I lived up in here. Comin up, I hear about men who like other men, but I ain’t never met one. There was one this kid in school. For while we used one of burned out houses out on Gratiot, but it didn’t last. A dealer almost surprised us once, then that kid got beat up a couple of times, it didn’t seem worth it to be associaten with him. Drop Kick never knew. I tried to figure out about why I was different and thought maybe I would outgrow it. Finally, I just decide  best thing would be to go somewhere different. I thought about New York, but I ain’t know anybody there and my cousin be in Philly. I guess…I guess even though it what killed Mama, it seems like Nana might still understand drugs better than my bein gay.”

[Interviewer] “Just so I have it right,  you made a vow this year to tell your grandmother you really have AIDS and not cancer, and you need to decide if you should tell her you got it from drug use?”

“That about right. See, if I tell her I fell into drugs out in Philly, she gonna be on me ‘bout how I promised her. But as bad as that is, it still be the same as Mama. I know Nana was plenty mad when the police tol her they found Mama body in some house out on West Grand Boulevard. We got no kin over there, so Nana didn’t have no idea why Mama be  over there. But eventually she say she forgive Mama.”

As Vaughn talked about his Mama, the sound of barking outside threatened to spoil the tape. I looked into the living room from the kitchen. Through the bars on the picture window, I could see three guys with a caramel brindle Pitbull chained by the neck. Two others approached. Puffs of steam rose between them; they looked to be arguing. I wondered how I would get back to my car if things got dicey, since I had  parked right outside.

“-but if I tell her, I don’t know if she let me keep staying here. I still know lotta folks ‘round here, but nobody else know, even Drop. ‘Specially not Drop. He more fat than muscle now but the way I be these days, even Nana could kick my butt, so I know he could. He proly never forgive me if he knew. All the time we shower together with everyone in the locker room, snap towels at each other, or wrestle in the living room at his house. He might think I crushin on him back then, and be mad. So, I got nowhere ‘sides here to go. I feel myself getting weaker every day. When I wake up, most days I can barely eat, the sores make it hard to swallow. Milkshakes, popsicles and just chewin ice sometimes help to numb things enough so I can swallow a bite of burger or piece of chicken. The doctor give me some gel to numb things up if it gets too bad, but it don’t last long, so I have to eat fast. Then sometimes after I get feelin I got to throw up.”

[Interviewer] “You know there are places here that could help you out. I brought flyers, they’re in here somewhere -.”

“Nah, it’s ok. I got it tied up. The clinic where I go, hook me up with all that kinda stuff if I want. But I don’t wanna die in some hospice or nothin. I wanna be in my own bed. But maybe if Nana know exactly why I’m sick, she might not want to let me stay. She big on church, go most  Sunday and Wednesday, and sometime more. If her ladies find out I have AIDS, they might not have nuthin to do with her anymore. I don’t want  to - ” [sound of coughing]

[Interviewer] “Are you OK? Do you want me to get you some water? Here, let me –" (click)

[Interviewer] “I’m glad that fit passed. You want to continue? OK. We were talking about you telling your grandmother about your diagnosis. Do you think it would make a difference to her if you told her the truth?"

“Do I think it would make a difference? Maybe. Did I tell you yet I had a girlfriend in high school? I kept busy with football and hanging with my boys so I didn’t have much time to spend with her. She was talkin ‘bout getting married like Drop an Angela were gonna do, but I knew it wouldn’t do no good, so I tol her I didn’t want to settle down. The main thing is I don’t wanna put Nana in danger, if she do something to come in contact with my blood or something. I hope I die before I get that bad. If it get to that point, I maybe  just lock the basement door and stay there until its over. To tell the truth, I’m not sure William’s even deal with me. Some places won’t take the body, but it’s not like I can go shop around. (sound of coughing) Can you get me some water?”

I opened cupboards near the sink until I found a glass. It was one of those thick walled ones Burger King gave away some years ago for a movie promotion. Tiny flecks flowed out of the tap along with the water, so I let it run as long as I dare to flush it, with Vaughn coughing hard in the other room.  We sat for some minutes before he could talk again. I offered to come back another time, but he shook his head, as he pushed up his sleeves and showed me the tumors spotting his skin on both arms. He pushed his knit cap back to show a large, ugly spot peeking out from his hairline.

“May not be a next time.” V. told me, dolefully. “I gotta tell her something ‘bout why I’m sick. I don’t know if she even believe it cancer anyway. What kinda cancer leaves you looking like this? It’s like them plagues from the middle ages or something. I know I have to tell her ‘bout the AIDS, so she can stay safe, stay away from me. I try not to eat with her, since she don’t understand I need my own plate and glass. I figure maybe if I make it a New Year resolution, I can get it done before my time come to cross over. She deserve to know before and not find out after.”

[Interviewer] “How will you tell her?”

“You do it. You can explain for me.”

I sat stunned. We weren’t supposed to interfere, but we gave information about the clinic and community resources, so why couldn’t I help him with this problem? The P.I. warned us not to get too involved, not to put ourselves in danger, not to offer any advice, but that seemed next to impossible. If his idea worked, Nana might be mad at me instead of him or not believe me at all. What then? Would I make a bad situation worse?

“It take me ‘bout an hour for stairs.”

He waved his cane to indicate I should go upstairs and fetch his Nana. I swallowed hard. This was beyond my purview, but he had a point. Our research wouldn’t do a scrap of good for the people we recruited. Beyond the small stipend, they gained nothing from it. My own resolution, one I didn’t know I needed to make, was suddenly clear. I resolved to be brave.

“Don’t worry, I think if I talk to her for you, it still counts as your resolution.”