be a papa. Congratulations, man.”
They shook hands. “Thanks.”
The other players gathered around him to offer their congratulations.
“Hey, old dude, how you gonna teach me anything from a hospital bed?” Jerome asked.
“Watch old game films,” Reece suggested. “See how Mikey played when he was in his prime.”
“They had movie cameras back then?” Jerome joked.
Reece laughed.
“What the hell are you laughing at?” Michael asked him. “You’re only a year younger than me.”
“I know. That’s why I want you back with the team. I don’t want to be the new ‘old dude.’ ”
“Swell. How’s practice going anyway?”
“We miss you, Mikey,” Reece said.
“Nice to hear.”
“Yeah,” Jerome added, “I miss blocking your shot and putting it in your face.”
“Just hand over the food, Jerome, before my doctor sees it.”
“Too late.”
The tall bodies of the New York Knicks turned toward the door. Harvey stood leaning against the frame of the doorway.
“Hey, Harv,” Reece said.
“How’s it going, Reece?”
“Not bad.”
“Would you and your cohorts mind if I have a few minutes alone with Michael?”
“Of course not.”
“Good,” Harvey replied. “In the meantime I’ll have one of the nurses bring you hoodlums over to the pediatric wing. There’s a few kids in there you fellas might be able to cheer up.”
“Be our pleasure,” Reece said. “Come on, guys. Let’s go.”
Michael’s teammates bade him good-bye and left. Then Harvey closed the door and moved into the room.
“So what’s up?” Michael asked.
“We just got back results of the blood tests,” Harvey began. “You were HBV positive.”
“Meaning?”
“You have hepatitis.”
“Isn’t that what you were expecting?”
“Yes and no.”
“Explain,
“Frankly speaking, it’s all a little strange.”
“What do you mean?”
Harvey crossed the room. “You have hepatitis B rather than hepatitis A.”
“Is that bad?”
“Ninety percent of all hep B patients recover fully within three to four months. With a little luck and some good training, you could even be back in shape for the end of the season and the play-offs.”
“Great.”
“But we’d like to take a few more tests, Michael,” Harvey said, “including a T cell study and an HIV test.”
Michael sat up, his eyes finding Harvey’s and locking onto them. “An HIV test? Isn’t that—”
“Yes,” Harvey interrupted, “it’s a test which is supposed to indicate if you are carrying the AIDS virus.”
“Why would I need one of those?”
“It’s merely a precaution,” Harvey continued. “We’re sure you don’t have AIDS or anything of the sort. You’re not homosexual and you’re not an intravenous drug user, which means your chances of having it are next to nil.”
“So?”
“So Eric and I discussed it. We also consulted Dr. Sagarel, the gastroenterologist. The thing is no one really understands how you contracted hep B.”
“Some bad seafood maybe?”
“You’re thinking of hepatitis A,” Harvey continued. “Hepatitis B is transmitted through blood transfusions, saliva, semen, stuff like that. Now, I know you’re going to want to slap me for asking, but I have to do it anyway. It’s important that you tell the truth.”
“Shoot.”
“I know you love Sara, but have you had any extramarital affairs? Any at all. An indiscretion during a Knicks road trip, anything?”
“No,” Michael answered. “Never.”
Harvey nodded. “Normally, we wouldn’t think of going through with an HIV test, but when Eric reviewed your records, he came up with the fact that you had a blood transfusion after your boating accident in the Bahamas.”
“But that was years ago.”
“I know. If it were more recent, I wouldn’t worry about it as much. Nowadays we have the technology to screen blood donations so that the chances of a patient’s receiving HIV-contaminated blood are very remote. Back then the test didn’t exist.”
“So you’re saying—”
“I’m not saying anything. Look, Michael, Eric and I have HIV-on-the-brain with the clinic and all. You don’t have AIDS. I’m nearly positive of it. Under normal circumstances I would have just gone ahead and done the HIV test without telling you.”
“So why didn’t you? You didn’t give me details about the other tests.”
“Because the law requires that you sign a form, that’s all.”
“And Dr. Sagarel agrees with you and Eric about this?”
Harvey’s face seemed to cloud over in hurt for a brief moment. “Yes, Michael. He agreed.”
“Harv,” Michael began, “I don’t mean to question your judgment—”
Harvey waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it, Michael. It was the right question to ask.”
“So now what?”
“I’d like to draw some blood, if it’s okay.”
Michael shrugged, his eyes still scared. Then he nodded. “You guys are the doctors.”
“Good,” Harvey said. “Give me your arm.”
“Pick a vein, any vein at all.”
Harvey did so, inserting the needle into the protruding blue line. “Believe me, Michael, this is merely a formality.”
“I hope you’re right.”
He finished taking the blood and withdrew the needle. “I am,” he said. He walked over to the door, opened it, and stepped into the hallway. “Janice?”
As per Harvey’s instruction, Janice Matley, his most loyal and trustworthy nurse, was waiting by the door. Harvey had brought Janice over from the clinic because he did not trust anyone with this task. “Yes, Doctor?”
He handed her the blood sample. “Give this to Eric or Winston only. Nobody else. If neither one of them is there, just wait.”
She nodded and left. Harvey stepped back into Michael’s room.
“When will you know the results?” Michael asked.
“In a week,” Harvey answered. “Now stop worrying like an old lady. There’s no reason to think you have anything other than hepatitis.”
Mr. Philip Adams, assistant manager of the Days Inn, unlocked the door. “Here it is,” he said. “Room 1118.”
“Damn,” Lieutenant Bernstein said.
