Hope

After Todd's mother dies from cancer, he moves back to his hometown in the foothills of the Appalachians from Chicago. It's 1997 and he's just been given a death sentence -- an HIV-positive diagnosis. Todd expects his remaining time on earth to be spent alone. But Cal, his handsome next-door neighbor, has other ideas. Cal is not the only surprise in Todd's new life. Todd begins having visions of an older woman, Essie, when he dims the lights. Is she just a figment of his imagination? Or is she a truth teller? When she talks to Todd, she's smart and hopeful. When Todd tells Cal about the ghost, Cal knows her already because Todd's mother spoke with her before her death. Essie was a godsend when Todd's mom was in so much pain. And now, Essie urges Todd to live ... for himself ... for new love. But is she too late?

Rick R. Reed · LGBT+

Not enough ratings

11 Chs

Chapter 9

Todd dashed upstairs, forcing himself to do something. He pulled on a T-shirt, slipped into a pair of flip-flops, examined himself in the mirror: too skinny, but otherwise not too bad. He went back to the kitchen, trying to muster up will, determination. He opened the fridge and put his hand on the cardboard carrier for the six bottles with their golden labels.

And froze.

I can’t do it. I can’t take the chance. Essie was right. We need hope to survive, to go on living. If I tell Cal the truth about me, where will my hope go? Down the toilet. In the trash. Gone.

Todd closed the harvest-gold refrigerator and leaned against it, arms across his chest. Essie’s words came back as if she were standing in front of him, speaking: “It’s only hopeless if you make it so.”

Essie wasn’t talking about hiding when she talked about hope. She was talking about living, about taking chances, about moving forward—about living.

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