Ruth Coker Burks - All the Young Men

ALL THE YOUNG MEN

ALL THE YOUNG MEN

A Memoir of Love, AIDS, and Chosen Family in the American South

RUTH COKER BURKS

&

KEVIN CARR OLEARY

Grove Press

New York

Copyright 2020 by Ruth Coker Burks

Names and identifying details of some of the people portrayed in this book have been changed.

Jacket design by Becca Fox Design

Jacket photograph by Thomas Jordan 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. Scanning, uploading, and electronic distribution of this book or the facilitation of such without the permission of the publisher is prohibited. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the authors rights is appreciated. Any member of educational institutions wishing to photocopy part or all of the work for classroom use, or anthology, should send inquiries to Grove Atlantic, 154 West 14th Street, New York, NY 10011 or .

FIRST EDITION

Published simultaneously in Canada

Printed in Canada

This book was designed by Norman E. Tuttle at Alpha Design & Composition

This book was set in 13 pt. Spectrum MT by Alpha Design & Composition of Pittsfield, NH.

First Grove Atlantic hardcover edition: December 2020

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is available for this title.

ISBN 978-0-8021-5724-9

eISBN 978-0-8021-5726-3

Grove Press

an imprint of Grove Atlantic

154 West 14th Street

New York, NY 10011

Distributed by Publishers Group West

groveatlantic.com

For Paul & Billy

Part One

Chapter One

I watched the three nurses drawing straws.

The tallest one drew the short straw, which I thought was funny. She was a redhead, wearing a lipstick so purple you knew she didnt have a good friend to tell her it wasnt right for her.

I was at the hospital that weekend looking after one of my best girlfriends. Bonnie was stuck at the Med Center in Little Rock, recovering from cancer surgery. She was thirty-one and I was twenty-six both too young for this stuff. Shed gotten tongue cancer and never smoked a day in her life. For years, Bonnie had worked at the newspaper, typesetting at night, but quit when she got sick.

They had her on a feeding tube in the hospital, and she couldnt talk, but she was good with a pen, and I was good at translating her scrawl to make sure she got what she needed. Bonnie spent a lot of time sleeping, so I spent a lot of time pacing the halls. I have never been able to sit still.

Lets do four out of six, said Red.

You said best two out of three, said the short one. She looked up at an older brunette who seemed to be in charge.

Well, I am not going in there, said Red.

All three of them kept glancing down a long hall. At the end was a door covered in a blood-red tarp with a sign I couldnt quite read. As the nurses argued, I got curious. So I just casually started pacing down the hall, kind of walking on tiptoe so my heels wouldnt click on the floor. As I got closer to that red door, I saw there were about six Styrofoam food trays on the floor of the hall, left with no care, like they were feeding a dog. And right outside, a cart full of head-to-toe isolation suits and masks. I could read the sign now: BIOHAZARD.

There was the slightest sound coming from the room, and I leaned in closer to hear.

Help.

It was so plaintive and small that I pulled the tarp aside to peek in. And there he was, this young man, stretched out on the bed and down to all of about eighty-five pounds. You couldnt tell him from the sheets. I stood right in the doorway. What do you need, honey? I asked.

I want my mama, he said. I had a little three-year-old, Allison. She spent the weekends at her daddys house. I knew from wanting your mama, and I knew his mother would want to help her sweet child.

Okay, I said, stepping farther into the room. Im gonna call her. Whats your name, honey?

Jimmy.

Okay, Jimmy, I said. I promise you Ill call her.

Well, I marched out to the nurses station, this time letting my heels click on that damn floor so they would know I was coming. I had just become a blondethanks to bleach and my hairdresser cousin Raymondand I found that I could get peoples attention quicker than when I was a brunette.

You didnt go in that room, did you? said the older one.

Well, yeah, I did, I said. Listen, that young man, Jimmy, is asking for his mama.

Are you crazy? said the short one. Hes got that gay disease. They all die.

Ill admit, I got scared. This was in the early spring of 1986, and there was plenty of fear to go around about how you really caught AIDS. When I visited my cousin Raymond in Hawaii, I had asked him about it because I was scared for him and his friends. We were all alone in his salon, so he could speak freely. Its only hitting the leather guys in San Francisco, he told me. God knows what theyre doing to get it. I didnt know what the heck a leather guy was, but he wasnt dressed in leather, so at least it wouldnt happen to him.

AIDS was spreading, and people were swearing you could get it from gays sitting on toilet seats and using swimming pools, from doorknobs and licked stamps on envelopes in the mail. I lived in Hot Springs, the Sin City of Arkansas, a resort town an hour down the road from Little Rock. It had about a quarter of the population of Little Rock but untold numbers of visitors who came for a good time. Brothels, bathhouses, you name it. So if gays touching doorknobs was gonna kill you, wed all be dead already.

Ill call his mama if I need to, I said. Would you please give me the number?

She aint coming, said the old one in charge. Hes been here six weeks. Nobody is coming.

Just give me her number, I said. If she knew her son was this bad...

Suit yourself, she said, as the others smirked. She made a huge production of finding a next-of-kin form and scrawled the number down. Instead of handing it to me, she kinda tossed it, like now she was scared of me.

Thank you, I said, all Southern charm and malice. I went to reach for their phone, and she pulled it away quick.

Unh unh, she said. Theres a pay phone right over there.

I turned on my heel like I wouldnt want to use theirs anyway and went over to the pay phone. I picked up the phone, all bravado, but then I lost my nerve, thinking about telling the poor woman her son was dying. I turned back, and I could see those nurses eyeing me. I put the coin in and dialed.

Hello, this sweet voice answered.

Good afternoon, my name is Ruth Coker Burks, and I am trying to reach the mother of Jimmy

Click. She hung up. Now, I had a mean mom. And Id had a meaner ex-husband. Id stopped letting things slide. I put in another coin, cursing her as I dialed again.

You hang up on me again, and I swear to Almighty God I will ask your Jimmy where hes from and put his obituary in your town paper with his cause of death. I knew I had her complete attention.

My son is already dead, she said, not a touch of sweetness to her now. My son died when he went gay.

No, he is alive, just barely, and he is here begging for you.

I dont know what sinner youve got in that hospital, but that thing is not my son.

Well, listen to me, I said, turning to see those damn nurses hanging on every word I was saying. If you change your mind, he is at the Med Center, fourth floor. And you better come soon.