Marco roth cannot quite recall how his father told him he was dying of aids. In one memory his father interrupts a televised baseball game; in another he delivers the news as a bedtime story. Each version is hazy but all feature the same account: his father contracted hiv in his science lab after being accidentally stuck by the needle of a diseased blood donor. This moment of bad luck sentenced him to years of illness, his slow death haunting the quietly unhappy but otherwise privileged Manhattan home he shared with his wife and only child.
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