Page 31 of Caught A Vibe

The feeling of dread deepens and I bring my soda into the living room. Sure enough, there is a coaster on the coffee table, ready and waiting for me when I set it down. No water rings allowed here. Her potted plants look a little peaked in the windowsill, and I am positive that is a result of being sick and not general neglect. I debate giving them the last of my soda, but even I know that’s a terrible idea. Back to the kitchen for water in a glass. At least I know exactly where to find it.

I put some down for Callie too after I’m done with the houseplants.

It’s barely nine, and I’m exhausted trying to process and maintain this apartment.

My hands shake with jittery energy. I do not belong here. I need to find my own apartment quick, before I scare Penny off with my messy habits and forgetfulness. I would go look today, but she needs me. I can’t abandon her while she’s ill. And I should probably quarantine as well, in case I’ve been exposed.

I’ll just have to be on my best behavior while I’m crashing here. It’ll be fine. I can fool her into thinking I can adult for at least another week.

But I can’t leave my stuff in the car that long. In fact, I should have brought it up last night, but I got distracted doomscrolling the internet for any information on this new illness. I’ll be lucky if it’s still there.

It takes several trips up and down her elevator, but I manage to squeeze my ten boxes and two suitcases into the corner past the couch. I turn one suitcase into a makeshift dresser and actually attempt to fold my clothes so they at least look like a neater pile of laundry on the floor. I get my laptop out and charging, and open boxes until I find where I stuffed my pillow and a blanket. At least I can fix that part of the equation here.

With nothing left to do, I put my mask back on and peek in her bedroom door. She is still sleeping. I wonder if I should wake her or get her some water. I’m no nurse, but I try and remember what my mom used to do to make me feel better when I was a kid. I remember saltines and Sprite and kisses on the forehead. I don’t think that will work here, but what do I know? I’m not a professional.

A professional. Rishi’s sister! Without thinking about shifts or time of day, I pick up my cell phone and call.

“Hello?” He sounds groggy.

Fuck.I probably woke him up. “Rishi? Hi, it’s Dash. I’m sorry if I woke you. I can call back.”

“No, s’okay. I’m awake now. What’s up?”

“I’m here, in LA.”

“Cool, man. I hope you don’t need a place to crash though. My sister is still quarantining after her shifts at the hospital.”

“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I’m down here helping a friend. She’s sick. Like really sick. And she was at T-Con and then on airplanes for days afterward. I’m worried she’s got this new virus. I’m in her apartment, and I don’t know what to do to make her feel better.”

There is a heavy silence on the other end of the phone.

“Rishi? Still awake?”

“I’m here. Just processing. You, confirmed bachelor, gamer boy extraordinaire, drove to LA because this woman is sick?”

“Well, I had to move anyway so yes, I packed up and here I am.” I pace the length of her kitchen and back, making myself dizzy with worry.

“Wait, you showed up on her doorstep with all of your shit?”

“Yes, and now I’m sleeping on her couch and hoping she doesn’t die. Rishi, can you ask your sister? What do I do?”

There is another pause, and I know I’m probably never going to hear the end of this. But the next voice I hear is clear and professional. Doctor Amrita Singh has entered the chat.

“Do you have PPE?”

“What’s that?”

“A mask, gloves, scrubs…”

“I have a mask, and I think I can find some gloves.” I walk back to the yellow pair I saw hanging next to the sink. Those should work. I tug them on and immediately feel ridiculous.

“Good. Don’t go near her without them. I need you to promise me that.”

“I promise.”

“Do you have a thermometer?”

I put my mask on and go into the bathroom through the hallway door. The one that leads to her bedroom is firmly shut, but this is going to be the area where we have to cross over. It’s the only toilet in the apartment.

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