Only six state prison systems in the US distributed condoms. Florida wasn’t one of them.

“You got another minute for me?” I asked Sandy Strickland.

I had found her in an exam room inventorying supplies.

“Of course,” she said as she turned around to face me, her blue eyes sparkling even under the dull fluorescent lights. “Come in.”

When I had closed the door behind me she looked a little surprised.

“What is it? You okay?”

I sensed genuine concern. She was a good nurse. I had come to the right place.

“I . . . wondered if you . . . might . . . This is harder than I thought it’d be.”

“Take your time. It’s okay. Whatever it is . . . we’ll . . . figure it out.”

“I found out today that the inmate who was killed yesterday, the one whose blood I was covered in, had AIDS.”

She nodded slowly.

“I can’t quit thinking about it. Can’t . . . concentrate . . . Just keep thinkin’ I might have been infected.”

“Oh, you poor man,” she said. “I know exactly how you feel. Blood is such a scary thing these days. I come in contact with bad blood all the time. It scares the hell out of me too.”

“Should I be scared?” I asked.

“Unless it penetrated your skin or splashed into your eyes or mouth . . . even then you’d—”

“The officer freaking out splashed it everywhere.”

“I can test you. Give you peace of mind. But I wouldn’t worry. Chances are good you weren’t infected.”

I nodded. “Thank you. It helps just talking about it.”

“I can test you privately down here. Nobody else has to know.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

She motioned for me to sit on the exam table.

As she worked around me, I thought how ironic it was that I might be infected. Not only had I been in a married monogamous relationship until recently, but I was extremely careful inside here every day.

When she was finally ready to draw my blood, she put her delicate hands on me, patting, squeezing, caressing, comforting. She even held my hand as she withdrew the blood.

“How long does it take?” I asked as she busied herself labeling the vial of blood and disposing of the needle.

“We’ll have to do a series of tests. This first one will be back in about a week, give or take. I’ll sneak it in with some other tests. I’ll call you the minute I know. And then we’ll do another test in a few weeks, and another in about three months just to be absolutely certain.”

“You’re an excellent nurse,” I said. “How did you wind up here?”

“You mean in prison?” she said with a smile. “Old sour Sister Mary Margaret said I’d wind up in prison one day. I worked for a doctor in Tallahassee . . . and . . . we got involved . . . needed to get away.”

“Tallahassee’s loss is our gain.”