down that weekend
directory
down that weekend and have a talk with Greg, and that he would listen to me and do what I told him.”
By Sunday night they had a compromise. Greg would ride in the MS Bike Tour drug-free, and then start taking the AZT when it was over. It was the best Sarah could do, and it wasn’t easy.
“I had to remind Greg who it was that stood by him the last few years through all the trouble, and basically called in all the favors he owed me. I won’t say that I blackmailed him into taking AZT, but I pulled out all the stops and put on all the pressure I could to get his commitment. After all, at the time I thought it was the only way I could keep my brother alive, and I figured he was just too young or too stubborn or too much in denial to realize the seriousness of the situation.” Sarah bows her head for a minute, seemingly torn between the grief and anger. “I never gave any credence to the idea that Greg’s own intuition was telling him not to take the AZT.”
Greg left that August to attend the San Francisco Art Institute, to follow his passion and his dream of being a world-famous sculptor. He and Sarah would talk frequently on the phone, and Sarah even visited Greg during Spring Break of her junior year.
“He didn’t look as good as I remembered him,” she recalls. “I just thought he was a little run down, maybe partying too hard,