Page 35 of 56 Days
She carries the two glasses (five steps) to him and says, “Here,” handing his over. As he takes it, he slips his free arm around her waist and gently pulls her close.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
She breathes him in. “Better now.”
“Were you watching?”
She nods.
The announcement came less than two hours ago. The Taoiseach has said he doesn’t want to use the wordlockdownbut that’s effectively what it is. For the next two weeks, starting at midnight tonight, everyone is to stay at home. You can leave to buy food or to “briefly” exercise within atwo-kilometerradius of your residence, but unless you’re an essential worker, that’s it. No visits to other homes, no arranging to meet people you don’t live with—evenoutside.
Ciara knows she should be processing the bubbling panic in the pit of her stomach that something really, really bad is happening, but she’s too busy with the tight worry in her chest over what this will mean forthem, for her and Oliver.
She senses that he has the same question she does but isn’t asking it.
She lets a beat pass, then another.
Then she decides that she just can’t stand to wait anymore and asks, “What are we going to do?”
When he shrugs, her stomach drops.
Are they not on the same page here? Has she been reading this all wrong?
Panicked, she begins to backtrack, to downplay, words tumbling out of her mouth before she can think about them.
“I mean, it’s less than two kilometers from here to your place, so... We could go for socially distanced walks...? Maybe? I know we’re not technically supposed to but that should be okay, right?” He’s frowning; she rushes on. “And is it really that bad if I go to yours and you come to mine? Neither of us is going to work. Neither of us is seeing anyone else.” She instantly regrets this choice of words and the fact that they’ve sent a flash of heat to her cheeks. She’s onlyassuminghe’s not seeing anyone else. “If we’re only in contact with each other, we can’t spread it. Or catch it, even... Right?” She desperately wishes she hadn’t ended that sounding so nakedly dripping with hope.
Here is her worst fear realized: despite how well all this has been going, she’s only ever one stupid move away from ruining absolutely everything.
He backs away from her and for one horrible moment she thinks that nowhethinks she might be contagious, that she’s just inadvertently revealed to him that she’s a careless person, that her handwashing andsocial-distancingaren’t medical grade.
But then he takes her hand and leads them both to the couch.
They sit down and she takes a gulp of her wine to stop herself from vomiting out any more words.
“The thing is...” He’s still holding her hand; he squeezes it. “The thing is, Ciara...”
God, just come out with it.
Is he dumping her? Is that what this is?
Canhe dump her, when they’re barely together?
“I don’t reallywantto break the rules. They’re there for a reason.”
Her limbs feel suddenly heavy with resignation. It’s as if she’s deflating on the inside, like the burst balloon inside a hardened shell ofpapier-mâché. All she wants to do now is kick off her shoes and fall back against the couch and drink the rest of the wine all by herself.
She wants him to leave.
She wants him to stay.
The truth is, however well this may seem like it’s going, they don’t know each other, not really. This situation is revealing that, up close and in harsh lighting.
They don’t know what the other one does in times like this. Are they the kind of person who wears a mask before it’s mandatory and disinfects their phones and wipes their groceries down, or are they drinking cans in the park with friends on a sunny Saturday and sneering at anyone whotut-tutsas they pass?
In between favorite movies and what they studied in college and where they hope to go this summer, they forgot to ask each otherwhat kind of person are you in a global pandemic?
“What if...?” he starts.
