Rest Stop

There were times when the conversations I had with patients on the AIDS ward were all about dying and fear and anger and remorse, but sometimes the focus was on how they’d gotten AIDS, which was the case with Charlie, who’d been a mailman in San Francisco for almost 40 years. He figured he’d probably walked on every street in the city and knew which were the longest and which where the shortest and where all the hidden stairways were. His route for years had been on Telegraph Hill, where he often saw the famous flock of parrots who’d escaped from their owners and become wild. He said he loved to watch them flying in high colorful circles above the hills, free again.

He lived down on the Peninsula and drove back and forth to work on 280, sometimes pulling over at the Crystal Springs Rest Stop on his way home. He said he didn’t think he was gay, didn’t feel gay exactly, but he did like being with men, sometimes make out with them, sometimes go even further if they were especially handsome. Charlie was a big man, almost as tall as I, and said several guys he’d met at the rest stop had told him he was a great hugger. He said he sometimes let guys blow him, but only if they were really good-looking and clean. He was married and didn’t want to bring anything home to his wife, who really loved him.

So sometimes he’d stop at Crystal Springs and make out and jack off and occasionally get blown. He asked me if I ever had sex outdoors and I asked him if that was especially exciting for him and he nodded.

He said once a really handsome UPS driver had pulled up to the rest stop just as Charlie was getting in his car to leave. Charlie watched him go into the restroom and then come out and sit on a picnic bench near some bushes. The guy was really masculine and kept staring at Charlie until Charlie couldn’t help himself and got out of the car. Mr. UPS lit a cigarette, walked behind some bushes, and Charlie followed him. The guy didn’t say anything, didn’t want any hugs or kisses. He turned Charlie around and unbuckled his pants before unbuckling his own. Charlie said it happened so fast he couldn’t hardly believe it.

He said he knew about HIV and AIDS and wasn’t worried about himself. It was his wife he cared about. They’d been together for such a long time and had tried to have children numerous times, but it was a no go.

He looked at me and asked how tall I was, and then added that maybe if he’d been born in a different time, he could’ve lived a different kind of life.