Carrie glanced at him. What was he waiting for? Obviously whatever was in that envelope was big for Charlie. Just what exactly did he have? ‘Are you sick?’
Charlie tore his gaze from the centre of the table. ‘I hope not.’ He picked the envelope up and stared at the address label. He couldn’t explain why he was reluctant to open it. A year of his life had been focused solely on what was inside this envelope.
He glanced up at Carrie. She was looking at him expectantly. Waiting for him to elaborate. What the hell—he’d do anything to delay opening the envelope.
‘A year ago I was pricked with a used syringe by an HIV-positive drug addict.’
Carrie gaped. She certainly hadn’t been expecting that. A familial disease maybe, hell, even cancer. But HIV? ‘Oh, no, how awful. How did that happen? Was it left in the clinic somewhere?’
Carrie knew that needle-stick injuries were an occupational hazard and that even the most careful practitioners could fall victim.
‘No. It was a deliberate attack here, late one night. It was Donny.’
Deliberate? ‘Donny? Tilly’s uncle?’
Charlie nodded. ‘He came in late one night armed with a used syringe and demanded my wallet.’
Her eyes grew wider. ‘So you fought with him?’
‘No, I gave him my money. I only had twenty bucks. He became enraged because it was nowhere near enough and lashed out with the syringe and buried it in my arm.’
Carrie listened, wide-eyed, not really able to comprehend what Charlie must have been through. ‘But Donny seemed fine to me.’
Charlie nodded. ‘He is. Now. I know it’s hard to believe but he was addicted to heroin for many years. The incident with me was the catalyst for him to get clean. His rock bottom, I suppose you can say. He’s off the stuff now and is training to be a youth worker. I’d love to be able to employ him when the expansion goes ahead.’
Carrie ignored the reference to the expansion. ‘That’s very forgiving of you.’
He shrugged. ‘Drugs mess with your head. They turn you into someone that you’re not. Was I angry with Donny that he jeopardised my health? Yes. Do I blame him? No. The Donny who stabbed me a year ago is not the man he is now. Kicking the habit is hard. Very, very hard—but he did it. He got clean. And his remorse is strong.’
Carrie nodded slowly, remembering the hushed conversation she’d overheard between the two men the night Donny had brought the overdose case to the clinic. Donny’s concern about Charlie’s medication.
Still, it took an enormous amount of human decency to turn the other cheek. ‘So you’ve been living under this cloud ever since.’ Things were starting to fall in place for her now. The medication he took and how he had double-gloved when suturing Dana’s chin. It hadn’t been to protect him from anything she might have had but the other way round.
‘Yes.’ He nodded.
Carrie searched back through her memory. It was amazing how much knowledge became rusty when it wasn’t being used every day. ‘I would imagine your risk of contracting HIV was very low, though.’
‘Yes, ordinarily transmission rates are much lower than those of say hep B, which miraculously he didn’t have. But Donny was completely non-compliant with his HIV meds and would have had a very high viral load. The occupational health team recommended I take the prophylactic triple cocktail.’
‘The meds I’ve seen you take are antiretrovirals?’
He nodded. ‘My HIV antibody tests at three and six months were both negative.’
Carrie felt the knot in her stomach loosen a little. ‘Surely that puts you in the clear?’
‘I’ve read of rare cases where the window has extended beyond six months. The occupational health people erred on the side of caution, too, and have kept me covered for the full year.’
‘And that’s your twelve-month result?’ Carrie nodded at the envelope.
Charlie nodded. ‘I know that the chances of it being positive are near to impossible but I have the feeling I’m holding my whole life in my hands and I just can’t bring myself to open it.’
Carrie felt his torment. Four years ago she’d had a similar letter that had held her whole future in it, too. She hadn’t been able to open it at all for fear of what it held.
His uncertainty appealed to her, her insides melting at his hesitancy. She was used to seeing him in command, in control. From the car accident the night they’d first met, to the OD, to her car being vandalised, to Dana’s sutures, to Roberta and his expansion plans. He was a take-charge kind of guy.
She felt strangely compelled to share her own experience. Let him know that sometimes life railroaded you and all you could do was hang on. That you couldn’t take charge of everything—sometimes circumstances took charge instead. Anything to put that teasing sparkle back in his worried grey gaze.