Gabriel

Juniper deserved something I'd never given anyone before. I never even considered it. I was afraid someone would try to steal him from me. That was my insecurity. He was younger and attractive. Who wouldn't want him? Every day, I told him how much he meant to me. I wanted to do something to prove it.

After multiple rafting and camping adventures, I realized I couldn't bring myself to ask him if he'd consider moving to Brooklyn. Not only would he have to say goodbye to his father and sisters, he'd have to say goodbye to his horses and chickens and everything else he knew and loved. He was a loyal brother and son. I wasn't loyal to anyone except to Juniper.

I liked the idea of buying a house with Juniper once the housing market rebounded. It was something I looked forward to. It's been awhile since I looked forward to anything.

If I I was going to build a future with Juniper, it was time I told my parents. They knew I moved out of my apartment in Bangor, yet I hadn't disclosed Juniper wasn't a woman.

I was glad to see my mother hadn't declined too much over the past few months. She was a little more irritable, but I'd seen a lot of irritability growing up due to her fluctuating moods. I'd never seen her talk to herself, though. During this visit, I'd overheard her talking to an invisible person in the living room. I was aware that people with Parkinson's often experienced delusions and hallucinations as the disease progressed. While she was in the living room, I decided it was time to have that talk with my father.

"Dad, I need to talk to you about Juniper."

"Good, because I need to talk to you first."

His reaction confused me. I kept my personal life well hidden. He'd only overheard me speaking to someone named Juniper. I let him believe what he wanted to believe about him, which meant I let him believe Juniper was a woman. Tonight I planned on correcting his mistake, or assumption.

"I know things have gotten serious with you and this Juniper," he said. "I was hoping to meet her by now, but we'll deal with that at a different time. Anyway, it's crucial I have this talk with you. It has to do with your mother," he sighed. "She just wanted to protect you. She didn't want you to worry needlessly and we were both convinced that you were happier as a bachelor with no plans to have children or a family of your own. Your mother's not making very good decisions lately, but I can't entirely blame her. It was wrong of us to lie. It goes against everything we believe and what we stand for. It goes against what I try to instill in others. I am truly, deeply sorry."

"What are you talking about? Sorry about what?"

"I don't know why we've never talked about it. It's like a big family secret. Your mother doesn't have Parkinson's disease. She had symptoms for awhile; we just ignored them because she was older. We wanted to believe it was Parkinson's, which doesn't make a heck of a lot of sense since it's also a horrible, progressive disease."

"Dad, tell me. You're beating around the bush. It's ridiculous."

"Your mother has Huntington's chorea. Her brother had it as well as her mother. She was forty-seven when she died. There was no genetic testing when you were born. We didn't want you to know because we didn't want you to worry. We didn't want you to spend your life wondering if you're going to get it, too."

I'd never been angrier and more shocked in my entire life.

"That would have been helpful information, Dad. How could you keep this from me? How could you lie?"

"Your mother doesn't know I'm telling you, but if you and Juniper choose to have children, I would think you would like to be tested to see if you're a carrier."

"Chances are that I am," I said, standing up.

"Only a 50-50 chance."

Huntington's disease is a devastating genetic disease passed down from one generation to the next. It's a progressive brain disorder caused by a defective huntingtin gene. The disease causes changes in the central area of the brain, which affect movement, mood and thinking skills. I resented my parents from hiding this fact. I blamed myself for not asking the right questions, for turning my back to my parents to strictly focus on me.

"Where are you going?" my father asked as I stormed out of the room.

"To talk to Mom."

"No, Gabriel, don't."

My dad trailed behind me as I ran up the stairs to confront my mother. I barged into her room to find her in bed. "Oh, hello there," she said, her hands noticeably shaking as she held her glass of cranberry juice. "When did you get here? I never see you anymore. How are your classes going?"

"Um... uh... I graduated twelve years ago," I said, taking her cup away before she spilled it everywhere. She barely recognized me. I decided it would be best if I not confront her about the lies she and my father had told me over the past year.

What bothered me the most was the fact my father, a well-respected religious leader, concocted this fabrication for reasons I still didn't quite understand. Parkinson's was just as devastating as Huntington's. But it wasn't a genetic disease.

"When you were a boy, you worried about everything," my father said. "It wasn't just worry... it was anxiety, phobias, worries about things you had no control over. I will never understand how you ended up as an ER physician in a trauma center. And you were a hypochondriac. You never claimed to be sick. You were afraid of getting sick. You were no picnic, Gabriel."

If my parents had realized Juniper was a man, then they most likely would never have told me the truth.

I was in a quandary, conflicted about what to do. My father didn't know Juniper was a man. Since I had no intention of having children, was it necessary for me to see a geneticist and to get tested? It was a double edge sword, though. A part of me wanted to know my level of risk of getting the disease. Another part didn't want you to know because it wouldn't change anything.

But it could help with planning my future.

Or at least that's what my warped brain thought.

My mind was my worst enemy. My tendency to make bad decisions was about to continue. Juniper, despite all his sickly sweet goodness, was my voice of reason. I wasn't used to being in a supportive relationship, so I didn't even think to consider discussing something this big with Juniper who was proud to call me his partner. He was almost too pure and genuine for me to stomach. Those qualities also made me love him even more.

I wasn't a geneticist, but I intended to consult one to better understand the disease and how it could affect me and my future. Just because I was a doctor didn't mean I understood the intricacies of genetics. Parkinson's disease was also a devastating disease, but to me Huntington's seemed far worse. Individuals with Huntington's are usually younger, typically diagnosed between the ages of thirty and fifty, and it's almost always hereditary. In most instances, individuals live with the disease for ten to twenty-five years.

For the next two days, I spent time visiting old friends, avoiding my parents. I needed time to cool off. Confessing my sexuality would have been good revenge, but I kept quiet. I grabbed a beer with my childhood friend, Caleb, and reminisced about old times. Caleb reminded me of all the times I stole hot dogs from the poor street vendors and the one time I mooned Rabbi Jacobs. I was the worst son of a rabbi. It was a good thing I was never caught.

I considered looking up a genetics counselor and/or Huntington's Disease clinic in Bangor, but I was paranoid that word would get out that I was seeking predictive genetic testing for Huntington's. Even though laws had been enacted to protect people who have undergone genetic testing, I still worried I'd get fired or lose my license. I trusted no one. I consulted the genetic counseling department at Mount Sinai, using a pseudonym. After the initial consultation, I scheduled an in person appointment for next month, the earliest I could get. There was nothing else for me to do but go home and wait.

When Juniper picked me up at the airport, I hugged him like my life depended on it, or at least like I hadn't seen him in months instead of a few days. "Hey," he said. "Is everything okay? You've only been gone three days."

"I'm fine," I lied. I was anything but 'fine.' "I just want to go home."

"How's your mother doing?"

"She's okay... the same." That wasn't a lie. She appeared the same since the last time I'd seen her.

Juniper and I had been together for a year, and he'd gotten to know me very well. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

I decided it was best if I distracted myself with work. If I kept myself busy, then I had little time to think about my parents, the disease, or my upcoming appointment at Mt. Sinai Hospital.

No matter what, Juniper always made time for me. He'd stay up late or get up really early to talk to me. I wished I could open up to him. Instead, I shut down and/or became irritated and annoyed with him. He was a caring person and attuned to other people's emotions. No one had ever cared for me like Juniper did.

And I took out my fear and anxiety on him, lashing out when he didn't deserve it. On my first day off in six days, Juniper urged me to go on a hike with him. It was a beautiful, crisp autumn day and all I wanted to do was sleep.

"You can't stay in bed all day," Juniper said, getting dressed, bright and chipper and ready for a fun-filled day on Mt. Katahdin. "Come with me."

"I told you I don't want to go," I said, sitting up. "You need to know when to back off," I snapped at him. "Stop bugging me, Juni. You can be just so... so... smothering... it's annoying and juvenile."

"Smothering? Something's bothering you and you're not telling me. I'll stop smothering you when you tell me what's bugging you."

"Look, Juni, I can't be as happy and hunky dory as you. You live in fucking La La Land while the rest of us live in hell. If I didn't take citalopram and lamotrigine, I'd want to hang myself. Did you know I take medication? I bet you think I have no business being a doctor, right?"

"Stop making assumptions. I wasn't thinking that at all. I feel like you're trying to pick a fight with me. I know you take medication. Maybe you need an adjustment, and I'm not saying that to be an inconsiderate dick. I'm serious. I'm telling you I know something is bothering. You're not sleeping. You barely eat. I just wish you'd talk to me. I feel like you don't trust me."

"I'm not like you, Juni. I don't find it necessary to talk about anything and everything."

"It would be nice if you talked about something. Stay in bed if you want. I'm going for a hike with or without you."

"Good. Go," I said, lying back in bed. A few seconds later, I dragged my ass out of bed, having second thoughts. Maybe a hike would improve my mood.

I'd been so preoccupied with my own drama, I couldn't decide when or if I wanted to give Juniper his present. Initially I didn't want to wait until his birthday, but with everything that'd been going on in my life, it made more sense to wait. By his birthday, I'd have all the answers I was seeking.

The hike reminded me of how active, energetic, and vibrant Juniper was. If I ever became ill, I'd surely drain all his positive energy. That wouldn't be fair. I pictured Juniper in his late thirties or early forties taking care of his debilitated partner instead of enjoying his life. I couldn't stand the thought. Juniper deserved so much better.

For the next three hours, I put my drama to the side and focused on the hike, beautiful weather and foliage, and Juniper. He didn't ask me any prying questions. Instead, he talked about his students and the possibility of teaching fifth grade next year, which would be a change for him. He didn't bug me until we were in bed.

"Please tell me what's wrong," Juniper said in my ear, squeezing the back of my neck as I lay on my stomach. "I don't want to lose you." He slipped his hand inside the back of my boxers, getting me in the mood. I hadn't been in the mood lately, which was very unusual since Juniper and I had a fun active sex life. He slept naked and often walked around the house naked, which made him difficult to resist, but because I'd been working so much and because of my increased depression, I rarely initiated. Lately, I didn't like life all that much. "I feel like I'm losing you. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, sweetheart," I said, rolling onto my side to face him. "You've done nothing wrong. I'm sorry. I haven't been very present lately. I guess I'm just worried about my parents. Sometimes I wish I was closer to them. I love Maine and I love living here with you, but sometimes I feel like I should be in Brooklyn. I guess I get homesick, too."

"Are you thinking about moving back?" he asked.

Much of my decision to move back to Brooklyn rested on the genetic test results, if I chose to be tested. I was too angry at my parents to think about providing support to my father as my mother's disease progressed. Maybe I'd just send them money to help pay for care since my aunt and father wouldn't be able to care for her on their own during the later stages of the disease.

"No," I said, bringing my lips to his.

As he kissed my neck, my dick came alive in his hand. He flung the covers off the bed and pounced on his knees, pushing my legs back to lick and kiss me in all the right areas. He peered up at me with his playful eyes, rimming me like no one else. He pushed my butt cheeks apart, alternating his tongue with his fingers. I gasped, inhaling as he successfully added a fourth finger--his pinkie. He used more than enough lube.

"Fuck me, Juni," I muttered.

Thrusting inside me, he clutched my wrists, holding my arms above my head. We moaned into each other's mouths as he achieved the perfect rhythm. He smiled against my lips as I moaned. He released my wrists and clasped his fingers in mine. "I love you," he said, hitting that spot just right.

"Don't make me come yet," I said.

He withdrew, gripping my waist. He flipped me onto my stomach and propped me up on my hands and knees. As we faced the mirror on the wall, Juniper re-entered me. He held me upright, kissing my neck, his eyes focused on mine in the reflection.

"Harder," I said.

He did as I said, pounding me. As he groped me, I entered another realm.

"Are you gonna come now?" he asked, his hand wrapped firmly around my dick.

"Can I? I'm gonna fucking come so hard."

"Okay. Go for it."

So I went for it.

***

I planned on meeting with the genetics counselor and that's it. I had no intention of seeing my parents. I arrived in Brooklyn at 10:00 a.m. and made it to my appointment for 1:00. My parents weren't even aware I was in town. I intended on staying in a hotel for the night and returning to Maine the following morning, just in time for my shift at 3:00 pm.

As much as I read up on the disease and the genetics counseling process, I still wasn't entirely sure what to expect. The office didn't look like a typical doctor's office. It looked like a therapist's office. If I wanted therapy, I would have found an online therapist and done it from the comforts of home instead of taking a plane out here.

"Hello, John," a woman said, entering the office. With a laptop, she sat across from me. My mother used to have long strawberry blond hair like hers, but she'd since let it go. My mother now had grey hair I never thought she had. "My name is Joanna Spurgeon and I'm a licensed genetics counselor.

"My name isn't John," I said. "But I was told I could remain anonymous if I paid privately."

"Yes, that is correct."

I just wanted to be tested. Instead, I had to see a genetics counselor, a neurologist, and a social worker before getting blood drawn. The purpose of me seeing a neurologist was to determine if I was experiencing any symptoms. Apparently, my word wasn't good enough.

Over the past few weeks, I'd done a lot of reading on the disease, but Joanna refreshed my memory. I sat quietly, listening to her. "Huntington's disease is caused by a mutation in a gene that all humans have (called the huntingtin gene). A mutation is a change in a gene that causes a disease. Everyone has two copies of the Huntington's disease gene. but only those who have a genetic mutation in one copy of the gene may develop the disease.

"Inside the huntingtin gene, there's a sequence of three basic units of DNA — cytosine, adenine and guanine--together called CAG — that repeats normally ten to twenty-seven times. Sometimes, the huntingtin gene carries an error in its genetic sequence that causes that CAG to repeat too many times. Too many CAGs cause the huntingtin protein to be longer than it's supposed to be. That means it can't work the way it's supposed to and it causes damage to the nerve cells in your brain.

"Just how many times the CAG repeats is useful information in determining whether someone will develop Huntington's disease.

The mutation involves an increase in a small segment of DNA, called a CAG repeat . Normally, individuals have approximately seventeen CAG repeats but people who have thirty-six CAG repeats or more are considered mutation-positive and will develop Huntington's disease in their lifetime. Although, individuals with thirty-six to thirty-nine CAG repeats often have a later age of onset than what is typically observed. Persons with twenty-six CAG repeats or fewer are mutation-negative and will never develop the disease. Some individuals fall in the middle and have what is called an intermediate allele-- twenty-seven to thirty-five CAG repeats, meaning they will usually not develop the disease but there may be a chance their children will.

"The most effective and accurate method of testing for HD—called the direct genetic test—counts the number of CAG repeats in the Huntington gene, using DNA taken from a blood sample. The presence of thirty-six or more repeats supports a diagnosis of Huntington's disease."

Joanna listed the pros and cons of predictive testing, everything I'd already considered. I made up my mind before the appointment. I wanted--and needed-- to know for reasons I couldn't entirely explain. It's not like I planned on having biological children.

The neurologist confirmed I had no symptoms and the social worker reviewed the pros and cons, providing emotional support while encouraging me to reach out to my partner for additional support. Before leaving--three hours later--I finally had blood drawn. It was a long, grueling, and emotionally exhausting day.

A/N I worked on this chapter for a long time. I can't focus on it anymore, so here it is. I'll go back at some point. I just want to keep going so I can actually finish a story for once.