GWEN HADN’T SEEN KEVIN for two months, not since he left to be a subject in a trial at NIH. Though he had sounded upbeat and energetic on the phone, confident the new medication was working, she needed to lay eyes on him to be convinced. Today would be her chance. He was flying back to San Francisco.
A year earlier, Kevin’s T cells had dropped below 200. He started AZT, and his T cells rose. Despite the drug-induced anemia, which made exercise impossible, he could work. But the treatment’s immune boosting effect was transient. Six months later, his T cells were below 200 again, putting him at risk for lethal complications of AIDS. He sank into bitterness then resignation as hollows formed in his temples and thighs. Simply getting dressed and driving to the hospital exhausted him. Gwen had to take over running the program. Kevin continued to come to the office, though he rarely did more than gaze across the bay at the Marin peninsula. Then a phone call had come from NIH. A newly synthesized medication with potent activity against HIV in cell culture had passed animal safety tests. It was ready to be tried in humans.
Gwen finished clinic early and drove to the airport. While waiting at the gate, she saw a middle-aged man looking in her direction. He cocked his head with an impish grin. Gwen assumed she was blocking his view of someone else and stepped aside. Then it registered. The gaunt, depressed face she had said goodbye to two months ago had filled out. He must have gained twenty pounds, she thought. Reading her mind, Kevin patted his new paunch to prove it.
Gwen embraced him. She gingerly touched his plump cheek.
“Go ahead,” Kevin laughed. “Pinch and ye shall believe.”
“DDI did this?”
“No,” he snorted. “It was high colonic enemas. Of course it was DDI. My T cells are 300 and rising.”
Pointing to his daypack, he crowed, “I’ve got a three month supply of pills and they’ll send me refills as long as I send them back lab results.”
Gwen realized Kevin’s weight gain wasn’t the reason she had failed to recognize him. It was his merry exuberance. How long had it been since she had seen him this happy? Life for Kevin had been constant worry about others, beginning with her needle-stick, then crisis after crisis at work, then Marco. And just as he was moving beyond that grief, his own health had deteriorated. Seven years, she counted, since she had seen him being carefree. Slipping her arm inside Kevin’s, Gwen steered him toward the baggage claim area. She resolved to stop discrediting her senses. This man truly was Kevin reborn.
“Did Katherine and your mother get to visit you?”
“They took the train down to Washington last week, and they’re flying out here in August.”
“They OK?”
She still felt strange and was aware that all she had done so far was to interrogate him.
“They’re fine. You know what’s amazing? After a lifetime without affection, they’re everything to me now.”
Gwen pretended to pout.
“After you, I mean. So how does Eva like Boston?”
“Eva’s home! On spring break.”
“And?”
“She is such a pleasure to be with. Who would have guessed?”
“Not me. Remember when I told you to cut your losses, that she’d always hate you.”
Gwen punched him in the shoulder.
On their way to City Hospital, Kevin asked about Rick. She shifted the topic to work, updating him on their current space shortage and who was fighting with whom. She wasn’t complaining. Kevin saw no sign the responsibility was overburdening her. Yet his concerns weren’t allayed. What about her visibility? Was that taking a toll? When Marco was sick, jealousy over the media attention he was receiving had been the least of their problems. But how did Rick feel seeing her picture in the newspaper and watching her on television? Was Rick secure enough to be proud of her, not resentful of all the evenings and weekends she was away or how distracted she must be when she was at home? Kevin wondered if anyone he knew could be that selfless.
Wine, cheese, and fifty people were waiting for him in a hospital conference room. Kevin didn’t suspect the surprise party, even after walking through the empty corridor to his office and being pulled away by Gwen who said there was something on the wards she had to show him.
Kevin wasn’t embarrassed when the crowd shouted his name. He knew how much better he looked than the last time they saw him. He enjoyed their applause.
After toasts to his return, Kevin made an announcement no one had anticipated. The grant he submitted six months earlier had been approved. Their program was going to be the recipient of a two million dollar award. The room hushed. Kevin explained that while NIH had a lock for now on testing the most promising new antiretroviral drugs, this funding would support Phase 1 trials of agents that were a longer shot for success. They clapped when he said more research staff would be hired. They hooted “Yes!” when told Ray Hernandez had committed to giving them additional space on the floor above the clinic.
As the party was ending, Kevin whispered to Herb, “Let’s talk.”
Once they were alone, he wanted to hear about Martin.
“He seems OK, but I don’t really know,” said Herb glumly. “He’s always guarded with us. Cecilia and I botched this badly. He’ll never trust us again.”
“Herb, that can’t be true. He must realize by now that your only concern is his safety. This has got to be more about his need for privacy and having control of his own life than coming out.”
“I hope you’re right. So, what was it like being a patient at NIH?”
“Those people are great. You must have loved working there.”
“I did. It was the most productive time of my life.”
“You think? You sure haven’t been sitting on your hands here for the last twenty years.”
“Well, since the boy wonder came to City Hospital, his publication rate certainly has plummeted.”
“You’re right,’” said Kevin, escalating the sarcasm, “You’re worthless if you can’t get at least six senior-authored papers a year in press.”
“Touché,” Herb said with a droll smile. “But the truth is you’ve already achieved far more than I have or ever will.”
It was awkward enough to have surpassed your mentor, let alone have him be the one to point it out to you. Yet there was pride in what Herb had said, and not a whiff of envy. Kevin hugged him. Herb didn’t shrink back.