Walking home, I remembered being in a decent mood before I
entered the store and now I felt pissed off. I’m in that damn Walgreens
at least three times a week spending plenty of money. Why the hell
would a cashier try to squeeze a little bit more out of me? And what
business is it of hers if I want to drink Diet Coke? If I wanted to
drink a gallon of Tide detergent, that’s my business and not hers.
I looked at my watch. It was a quarter
after 6. I figured with it being early evening, Walgreens, up on Madison
Avenue here in Covington, wouldn’t be that busy. I’d walk up there and
get me another bottle.
On Labor Day, 1994, I got a phone call from twin brother’s
friend in Seattle, Wash., where my twin, Jered, lived. This friend told
me that Jered was in a Swedish Hospital in serious condition. He also
told me Jered had AIDS. This was the first I’d heard about it.