6
Todd stared at the bottles he had picked up from the county health center that morning. There were three, with fancy-schmancy names Todd wouldn’t have been able to pronounce had he not called Dr. Shapiro in Chicago a few days ago. He liked to believe he had phoned at Essie’s prompting, but he didn’t tell the physician that.
He touched each white-capped bottle at the top. “Indinavir. Zidovudine. Lamivudine.” The doctor had told him this “cocktail” had been doing amazing things over the past year. Todd informed the doctor he was never one to turn down a cocktail. The dour-faced man actually snorted out a sound that might pass for laughter.
Dr. Shapiro also told Todd he was glad he had called, because he was worried about him. He had tried to reach Todd at his old phone number, but it
