Page 33 of Caught A Vibe

I desperately want to get them myself, but the little energy I had is dissipating quickly. I nod and point to the dresser. “Underwear, top drawer, T-shirts just below.”

He pulls out sensible undies, a pair of boxers, and a super soft T-shirt. He lays them on the bed and leaves. I wish I could see the expression on his face, but he is still masked.

By the time I struggle into my clean clothes, he is back with a mug of warm apple juice and some cinnamon toast cut into triangles, my traitorous cat weaving a figure eight around his ankles. Why is she being friendly with a stranger? And where the hell did he find apple juice in my apartment? More importantly, why the hell is he still in my apartment?

Thoughts become words that sail out of my mouth before I consider things like tone and timing, and he bristles.

“You…you asked. You saiddon’t leave me. So I didn’t.”

At least now I can tell from his furrowed eyebrows he is annoyed right back at me. I didn’t realize I’d voiced that fever wish aloud. And this man is probably the reason I am marginally alive this morning. I take a deep breath to reset my attitude and set off another round of coughing.Fuck, this sucks.

“I’m sorry. That was rude.” I manage a few sips of warm cider between coughs. I can’t taste it, which is weird, but it clears the tickle going down. “Thank you for taking care of me. I’m sorry I’m a grouchy patient this morning.”

“Well, anyone battling Covid has a right to be grouchy,” he replies.

“No, it’s just a bad cold…the flu…” I protest.

“No, actually, you have Coronavirus.”

“Okay, Dr. Smartypants, how do you know?”

“Because my friend’s sister is an ER doctor, and she came to swab your nose.”

He hands me a lab report that knocks me on my metaphorical ass. Covid. The thing everyone was worried about. The thing no one knows enough about. And I tested positive… A fever dream flutters from memory. “Ah, the ancient Egyptian burial rite…”

“What?”

“Never mind. So I tested positive?”

“Yes, you did. Amrita said to push fluids and watch your pulse-ox readings on your fruit watch, but so far you’ve stayed in the okay range. If it drops, we’ve got to get you to the hospital.”

He keeps talking, and I try to piece together what I remember from the last week with what he must’ve done for me. He fed me and cleaned me and monitored my vitals and called in favors. This man kept me alive. This man I barely know dropped everything to come care for me.

The way he so casually tosses around “we” makes my chest feel warm from something other than a fever. Caused by the Coronavirus. That I currently have.

Appreciation tangles with fear of the unknown and makes my empty belly churn. My mind spins with unanswerable questions. Will I survive? And if I do, are there long-term effects? Will I fully recover or be a burden to whoever is in my life?

And, oh God, I exposed him! I don’t even know if he still has a job or insurance or…

“Dash, I think you should leave.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to get sick too.”

“Well, that’s going to be difficult. Since I’ve already been exposed, I’m supposed to quarantine for at least another week without symptoms before leaving. Luckily, I’ve been wearing a mask this whole time and I feel fine, but better safe than sorry, right?”

“How is you staying here safe by any stretch of the imagination?”

“We’ve been in completely different rooms. And I sanitize every surface in that bathroom after you use it.” His jazz hands in my yellow dishwashing gloves distract me. “It will be fine. Besides, I don’t have anywhere else to go. I can’t stay with Rishi because he’s crashing with his sister. My plan was to get a hotel room and look for apartments once I got down here, but now I can’t safely get a room…”

My eyes bulge at that information, and he trails off.

“You…you moved here? You didn’t just come to visit me because I’m sick? You live in San Francisco…” None of this makes sense, and I don’t know if it’s brain fog or if the situation is just that bonkers.

“My roommates moved home to save money, so we let the lease go. I don’t have to live in the Bay Area to do my job, so when I thought about where I’d like to live next, LA was looking real attractive.”

The way he says that makes my cheeks burn. How can he still have the hots for me after this week of hell? I scared myself in the mirror on the way to the shower.

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