“Now Mom,” George put a gloved hand on the shoulder of her sweater set, “they don’t have small children at home. You know how kids pass things around.”
“If you’re not going to take me home, at least get them to restore my shopping day. They don’t buy the right type of cookies no matter how many times I ask.”
“Mom, it’s a quarantine. They’re trying to protect you,” George’s mask couldn’t hide his exasperation, “Anyway, you like it here. You like the crafts . . .”
“They have been canceled.”
“You like the cafeteria . . .”
“They’re making us eat in our room.”
“Being around other people your own age . . . “
“They told us to stay at least six feet away from each other. At first, I thought they meant six inches, but no, they mean six feet. All of us have trouble hearing. We can’t even communicate from that distance,” Eunice slid her mask down around her chin.
“Put that back on, Mom,” George reached for the mask.
Eunice batted his hands away, “I feel like I’m suffocating. Meanwhile, you young ones are running around doing whatever you want.”
“Schools have been closed, the bakery has hardly any business, and I’m working remotely,” a vein in George’s temple started to throb, “Janet had to lay off her cake decorator and she still might not be in the black this month. I’m trying to watch the kids and work at the same time and . . .” He let out a sigh that made his mask puff out like a balloon, “I feel the suffocation, too, not in a literal sense, but yeah.”
“Mr. Serra,” a care worker knocked on the door, “I’m sorry, but your ten minutes is up.”
Eunice sagged as George left the room. He was her baby, and she hadn’t realized things were that bad outside Lilac Estates. She could picture him as a baby, bouncing in his highchair. “What happened to make things get this bad?”
“Ms. Serra,” the care worker pulled the mask back over Eunice’s mouth, “Would you like to return to your room?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You could go outside. It’s cold, but it’s not raining at the moment,” the care worker wheeled a walker over to Eunice, “The nurses are recommending at least 15 minutes of outside time per day.”
“Well, okay,” Eunice hoisted herself to a stand and shuffled out of the visiting room. The care worker stayed behind, wiping all the surfaces down with a disinfectant. Eunice passed through the empty social room, then pushed the button to open the door. It was wet, and she sniffed her hand it smelled of disinfectant. “Guess it’s better than pee,” she rolled out the door and straight into a gentleman wearing a striped suit.
The first thing that flashed into her mind was George. He had begged her for years to get a two-wheel walker instead of a four-wheel, but she liked to move fast. “Stability,” he had said. “Speed,” she had countered. And now, here she was, mowing down someone’s grandpa because she couldn’t squeeze the brakes fast enough.
The man absorbed the blow with his walker, a shiny red three-wheel, “Did you say ‘pee?’”
“It was disinfectant, but we used to have someone here, Mr. Murphy, God-rest-his-soul, who would mistake things for a urinal,” Eunice eyed the man’s suit. It was a little flashy for someone his age, and he had paired it with cowboy boots. He had nice blue eyes though. A little rheumy, but that was to be expected. What was left of his hair was a bright white, which set off his face mask nicely.
He laughed, a laugh that turned rapidly into a cough. Once he had collected himself, he held out a shaking hand, “I’m Mick.”
“Eunice,” she gave his fingers a squeeze, “Are you a new resident? I haven’t seen you before, at least not in that suit.”
“Yes, I arrived a few days ago. My family thinks I’ll be safer here, although safer for who is what I want to know.”
The doors opened behind them and a care worker appeared. “I’m sorry Ms. Serra and Mr. Humphries, but I’m going to have to ask you to stand six feet away from each other.”
Eunice sighed. At six feet away, they would be able to hold a conversation. Six feet away, and they couldn’t even make eyes at each other, which he was right now. Eunice could feel her heart speed in her chest. Surely that was bad for her, with her heart problems, but he continued to look at her like she looked at a Keebler Chips Deluxe.
“I think I’ll return to my room,” Mick gave her a wink, then he was gone, shuffling back into the doors of Lilac Estates.
Eunice wheeled her walker over to a barren lilac tree and sat on the seat. What room might Mick be in? Would he be on the same floor? Would she see him in the elevator? There were no social events, not that he would go to the craft center anyway. If only they could go to Safeway! He might sit next to her on the shuttle, or they would cross paths in an aisle. With things as they were right now, she might never see him again. Either one of them could move on in a manner of ways. She pulled off her mask and took a deep breath of the cold air. “Better,” she set it in her lap, folded her hands, “I should go back inside.” She sat there for a few minutes longer, watching the returning birds hop through the branches and the fountain trickle its water through in a neverending cycle.
By the time she rose, the cool had settled into her joints and she had a difficult time pushing the entry button. “Where were the staff when you actually needed them?” she grumbled. She passed through the social room, then down the hall to the elevator. Pushing the button, she gazed down the hall. Mick would probably not be on this floor, she had only seen the most fragile on the first level, where the nurses could keep an eye on them. The rooms were like hospital rooms, stark, sterile rooms where the radio played and no one danced.
The elevator arrived with a ding and Eunice pushed her walker inside. She pushed the button for three, then stood waiting for the doors to shudder shut. Three was the best floor to be on. Surely a man who had that sort of taste in clothing would appreciate vaulted ceilings. He would pony up the extra payment for the peek-a-boo view of the Sound. Nevermind that the view disappeared during the summer once the trees got their foliage back, it was still a view.
The elevator doors opened and Eunice trundled into the hallway. The walls were painted a pale shade of lavender, each unit marked with a tasteful purple sign. Most residents decorated their doors, and Eunice was no exception. She had a doormat that looked like grass with a small red flower in the corner and a wreath that she changed with the seasons. Her current wreath was one she had made in the craft center before they closed it, an easter wreath with pastel eggs and puffball bunnies. Someone had jammed a folded piece of paper in between a fake daffodil and a miniature wicker basket. Annoyed, she removed the paper and flipped it open. The alphabet was written in a circle, a series of symbols forming a ring around it. Someone had written, “Secret Decoder Ring” at the top. Eunice stuck it inside her walker basket. “At least someone is trying to keep us entertained,” she unlocked her door and stepped inside.
Her living room was an open format that carried over into a small kitchen. A door led to a bedroom and master bath in the rear. She wheeled over to her recliner, then turned on the TV. Every station was showing people in masks and gloves. She flipped off the TV and stared out the window at her peek-a-boo view. She tried to imagine the sound of waves, but all she could hear was a scratching sound that reminded her of rats. Scritch, scritch, scritch. Eunice took out her hearing aids and turned them off. Before she could summon the sound of waves, someone rang her doorbell. “I’m coming,” Eunice pushed the button on her recliner that would help her to regain her feet. Whoever it was hit the doorbell again. “Give me a minute, I’m old,” Eunice took the handles of her walker and headed back to her door. Pushing it open, she found no one, just a sheet of paper with strange symbols on it, lying on her mat. “Make me bend over,” she groused. Sitting on the seat of her walker, she leaned down and picked up the paper. She pulled a pen out of her walker basket and started on the puzzle. “That was fun,” she put down her pen, “Let’s see. ‘Meet me at shift change in the craft room.’ Hm. I have a feeling this isn’t from the staff.”
Eunice went back in her apartment. If the message was from Mick, then she would need to touch up her make-up and fluff her hair. If it wasn’t, at least she would look good for whatever hijinks someone was up to. Sitting in front of her vanity, Eunice applied anti-feathering lipstick and touched up her brows. She ran her fingers through her hair and gave it a touch-up blast of hairspray. Putting her hearing aids on, she checked herself in the mirror, then checked the clock. In five minutes, shift change would begin and the staff would vanish. Nurses, care workers, and office and maintenance staff would all pack into the break room to gossip. “Coordinating care,” was what they liked to call it, but Eunice knew gossip when she saw it. They would be too wrapped up to be monitoring any but the most fragile residents, and they definitely wouldn’t be checking the empty craft room. Eunice set off down the hall. Someone had just taken the elevator, and she had to wait for its ponderous return. She slid her mask carefully into place, just in case, and tapped the down button repeatedly.
With only two minutes remaining, the elevator arrived. Eunice pushed the button for the first floor. Hopefully, whoever the code-writer was, they were patient. She watched the seconds tick away as she descended, then a pause, then the doors opened to the empty hall. A janitor rumbled past with a mop bucket, and Eunice held her breath. He ignored her, continuing his path towards the utility room. Eunice rolled towards the craft room, praying that her wheels wouldn’t squeak. It sat near the social room, a royal purple door with a plaque reading “Arts and Crafts.” Turning the knob, Eunice was disappointed. The room was locked.
Turning aside, she noticed something she had never paid any mind to before. Someone had removed the copy of War and Peace from the bookshelf and left it on the backgammon table. The book, viewed from the side, didn’t have pages. She picked it up, feeling the bottom slide outwards. Nestled inside was a key. With shaking hands, Eunice tried the key in the craft room door. It fit, turning with a smooth click. Opening the door, she found the one person she had hoped for sitting at the table, his head slumped as he dozed.
“You sly devil,” Eunice closed the door behind her.
Mick snorted and sat up, “Oh, well look who’s here. I hoped that you would come.”
“Can we . . . sit closer than six feet away from each other?”
“I would like that,” he pulled a chair out from the craft table.
“What else can we do?” she batted her eyes.
“Sky’s the limit.”
Eunice’s boldness faded into a shyness that made it hard for her to speak. Mick’s blue eyes watched her every move, just like she watched the stock clerks at Safeway as they unloaded a fresh pallet of cookies.
“Don’t be coy,” Mick patted the seat, “I don’t bite, not unless you like that.”
“Oh, my,” Eunice fanned herself with her decrypted message, “You certainly move quickly.”
“I know what I like, and I get a feeling that you do too.”
“Well,” Eunice settled into the chair, “I suppose I do.”
“Then would you hold my hand? Everyone is so scared around here, nobody wants to even shake your hand,” he offered her a wrinkled hand, fingers bent with age, “It’s lonely.”
“It is,” she took his hand, her pulse drumming in her ears, “If you would like, you could take your mask off.”
Mick slid the elastic off his ears, “So, improvement or down-grade?”
“Definitely more handsome without the mask. You have a handsome jawline,” she removed her mask.
“And you have lovely lips,” he touched her bottom lip with his index finger, and staring deep into her eyes, he leaned forward.
Eunice almost thought the thundering sound and yelling was in her mind because the kiss was that good. Almost, until she felt her chair being pulled backward.
“Mr. Humphries! We know you’re new, but there are rules! And Ms. Serre, you know better! What if one of you has coronavirus?” The care worker looked frantic.
“It was just a little kiss,” Mick smiled, “It wasn’t french.”
“That’s enough. You must stay six feet away from any resident with whom you do not cohabitate. It’s in the emergency influenza rules. Rules that you signed,” a nurse in the corner of the craft room was breathing so hard that her mask seemed to suck inwards. “I’m going to have to call your children,” she threatened.
“I’m very sorry,” Eunice slid her mask back on her face, “I did know better, but I’m bored of being in my room all day. Please don’t call George, and if you do, please don’t tell him what I was doing. It’s private.”
“It’s not private if you’re doing it in a public space,” the care worker pointed at a small camera mounted on the ceiling, “We all saw you two kissing, right in the middle of our shift pass-down.”
“How’d you get here so fast?”
“So fast? You two were kissing for a good five or ten minutes!” the nurse trembled.
Eunice looked at Mick. Five to ten minutes of bliss. “What,” Mick cleared his throat, “What is the process for co-habitation?”
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Cross-posted to 12 Short Stories