Brennan finds love through an angel’s miracle
NIC GARCIA
ngarci20@mscd.edu

   You can still feel the glue on the necklace.
   Brennan, 18, glued the hemp and beaded necklace together so it would never fall off. He never wanted to forget Jamie. And as long as the necklace was around his neck and close to his heart, he wouldn’t.
   Jamie, who lived in San Francisco, was raped when he was 13 years old. He contracted HIV from his attacker and later developed AIDS. And when he needed someone to talk to, a friend told him about Brennan, a peer counselor from Littleton, Colo.
   And almost three years ago, Jamie called Brennan asking for him to listen.
   Brennan told me Jamie’s voice was soft, but masculine. He spoke beautifully and articulated everything. His laugh made him feel safe.
   “ You wouldn’t expect someone who is (diagnosed) positive to be outgoing,” Brennan said.
But he was.
   “ We would talk about all sorts of things—how his day was, music, movies,” he said. “He never hid anything.”
   And, over time, their relationship began to change. Jamie’s mother paid for Jamie and her to fly out to Colorado and stay during the summer. During Jamie’s first trip, he and Brennan went shopping and Jamie saw the necklace. Brennan later bought it and gave it to him.
   “ His mom told me he never took it off.”
   Jamie, Brennan said, was confident and strong.
   He had a style all his own.
   “ He could take a shirt from American Eagle and one from Hot Topic and mesh them together and have something fabulous.”
   But his fabulousness wasn’t limited to clothing. Once, while on the 16th Street Mall, a homeless person approached them for money. Instead of giving him some change, Jamie took the man to lunch and bought him shoes.
   “ He put everything on his credit card,” Brennan laughed.
   During Jamie’s second trip to Colorado, the two became closer.
   “ It wasn’t one person counseling the other,” Brennan said. “We were counseling each other.”
   After all, Brennan faced some formatable obstacles. His parents didn’t take too kindly to his homosexuality and he’s left home twice. He currently lives with five people in a one-bedroom apartment on Logan Street in Capitol Hill.
   More and more, Brennan found himself thinking of Jamie—not as a patient or client, but as a friend. More than a friend, even. Every time they hung out, it started to feel more like a date.
   “ He was the first person I truly ever loved,” Brennan whispered, choking back tears.
   “ You just know it’s right when you hear his voice, it’s the only thing you hear. When you see his smile, it’s the only thing you see …”
   On Jamie’s final day in Denver last summer, he and Brennan had coffee at Diedrich at the corner of 9th and Downing—the epicenter of Gay Denver.
   When they said their goodbyes, Brennan pulled Jamie into his arms and kissed him.
   “ It felt like I was floating. There was nothing else,” Brennan said. “All the drama in my life, the rest of the world, was gone.”
   And soon so was Jamie.
   Even though they continued to talk by phone, Brennan would never see Jamie again. He died on Dec. 14, 2005. He was 19.
   Jamie’s mother called Brennan that night to tell him of Jamie’s passing. Brennan was on his way to his grandmother’s house, but he never got there.
   He blacked out, he said, and remembers waking up in front of one of his friend’s house, his cheeks salty from all of the tears.
   Later, Jamie’s mother returned the necklace to Brennan.
   “ She said I should have it.”
   And, he never took it off, just like Jamie. He shut everyone out. A piece of him died, too.
   Still, his friends pushed him into social situations. He would go to the club, but would dance alone.
   “ Jamie was my relationship.”
   About three weeks ago, Brennan was dancing when a boy came up and started dancing with him.    Brennan tried to push him away, but what happened instead is nothing short of a miracle.
   The necklace, which had been freshly glued together, fell off and landed in Brennan’s hand.
   The boy smiled and everything changed.
   “ I just melted. Every part of me that didn’t want to be happy, went away.”
   He realized, at that moment, that it was OK to smile back. It was OK for him to live.
   It was OK for him to love again.
   “ Jamie’s telling me to date this guy,” he joked over coffee with me on Easter Sunday. The sun had gone down, but the air was still warm. “Or at least move on.”
   Jamie was a “very born-again Christian,” Brennan said. They would argue about it every once in awhile.
   Brennan says he doesn’t buy the whole Christian thing. To him, Easter was just a family potluck.
   But this Easter was different for him.
   You see, when Jamie died, a fairy became an angel.
   Brennan’s angel.

The Metropolitan welcomes all letters from Metro students, teachers, faculty and administration. Letters must be typed and submitted to the Insight Editor by Monday, 3 p.m. the week of production. Send letters to ngarci20@mscd.edu or leave your letter for Nic Garcia in the Office of Student Media, Tivoli Student Union, Room 313. Editors reserve the right to edit all letters for content, clarity and space. Letters must be signed and dated with contact information for the writer. Letters may be no longer than 300 words. Any submissions longer will be considered for “Their Opinion.” All rules apply to longer essays. Essays may be no longer than 500 words.