by L. P. Guleva
Chapter 1
Zamira
“PUT THE TOILET PAPER DOWN.”
I turned toward the man’s voice. A bony woman had her hand in my shopping cart. A tall, blond guy held her by the wrist while pointing a bottle of Lysol in her face. This whole country went so nuts that I wanted to go back to Uzbekistan, which was saying a lot.
“If you spray me in the eyes with that, I’ll sue you.” Her hand tightened on my toilet paper.
The man wrinkled his nose then inhaled through his mouth. And inhaled some more. Goodness. He was going to sneeze on her. The woman shrieked, let go of my goods, and ran to the next aisle.
“Thank you. I needed that.” I secured the paper in the basket of the shopping cart and put my hand on it.
“I figured you weren’t a hoarder, or you would’ve taken a twenty-four pack while it was still there.” He flashed me a giant smile, then picked up yogurt from the refrigerator. His arm and shoulders were umm… The guy must've lived in the gym until they closed.
“You were watching me?” I grabbed two gallons of milk. Only perishables seemed to be left in the store. Oh well. Calories are calories.
“Nah, I was trying to find laundry detergent. I’m out.”
“So is every store.”
“I’m Matt, by the way.” He extended his hand halfway, then dropped it. “Damn. I keep forgetting.”
“Zamira,” I answered. “You can make your own detergent. They still have some washing soda and laundry soap. Grate the soap and mix it with the washing soda.”
“Thanks.” He walked with me to the bread display that had a couple of things to choose from. “Where is your accent from?”
My back straightened. “I’m not from China.”
“Didn’t say you were. Sorry, I’m curious.”
Alright, he wasn’t one of the crazies. “From Uzbekistan.” I sighed at the selection in front of me. If I wanted any bread at all, I had to get one with all the texture of cotton balls. I’d rather starve.
“Cool.” He took two packs of rolls. “How long have you been in the states?”
I glanced at his face. No sign of fear yet, but why did he have to be so talkative? Oh well. At least I could practice speaking English with a good looking guy. “Since September. I’m an exchange student.”
“Well, you beat me already. I never left New York. Always wanted to see the world, but you know how it goes. Rent eats up everything.” He navigated the aisles with ease as if it were a normal day in the middle of a normal year. “You should grab a few of these.”
I followed his line of vision to a neat arrangement of canned fish on an otherwise empty shelf. It must’ve just been restocked.
“Thanks.” I took four.
Matt smirked and put four more in my cart. “So, how do you like it here?”
I shrugged. How was I supposed to explain how I felt about the differences between the two countries? “It takes some getting used to. I offered my seat to an old lady on the subway the other day, and she looked at me like I was crazy.”
He chuckled and led me to the cleaning supplies. I showed him the washing soda and the laundry soap.
“How much of each do I need?” Matt asked.
“I used equal amounts of each. You can add other things too if you want, like OxiClean or bleach.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” Matt took two boxes of soda and a six-pack of soap.
“You’re a toilet paper saver. We’re even.”
“Guess we are.” He leaned against the shelves and gave me another one of his smiles that made his eyes crinkle in the corners. “A few of my friends and I are organizing a discord server, so we don’t lose our marbles being locked up. Wanna join? We’ll be playing games, sharing tips on what stores have food, whatever we need to make it through the lockdown.”
“It’d be nice.” All the human interactions I had happened in college and at work. Both vanished as the pandemic started. No one needed a waitress with a heavy accent who everyone assumed was Chinese. Even my sister, who helped me get here in the first place, lived in another state.
Matt and I exchanged numbers, then he texted me a link to his Discord server. I got out of the way of the other customers, put my cart in the corner where it would be harder to steal from without me noticing, and joined Matt’s server. More than twenty people filled the member list. Four popped in to say hi.
Matt typed up an introduction. Hi, everyone. Zamira is the victim of an attempted TP theft. Be nice to her, or I’ll cough on you.
A few more people said hi. Judging by the first few minutes, there wouldn’t be a lack of social interaction. Matt’s friends liked to talk.
“Sorry, they’re easily excited.” Matt looked at the empty shelves. “Do you need anything else?”
“I need a lot, but I won’t find it here. Or anywhere else for that matter.”
“Let’s get out of here before someone else decides to steal from your cart.”
We walked to the self-checkout, minimizing the number of people we had to interact with.
Outside, the city looked like some post-apocalyptic nightmare. Mostly empty streets. Masks. One lady wore a five-gallon jug with a hole cut out for her neck. I couldn’t complain about that. If these bottles were as easy to get in Uzbekistan, half of my city would’ve done the same thing.
“Which way are you headed?” Matt asked.
I waved to the right as I remembered the distance to my apartment. At least I didn't have heavy bags. “I’d take the subway but...”
“Too many people.” Matt pointed at the parking lot. “I can give you a ride, so you don’t get mugged.”
If I walked, it would be at least half an hour, and people these days turned into fast zombies with a taste for paper and tin cans. I really could get mugged. But did I want to get in a car with a stranger?
“I promise, I’m not a serial killer. You can take a picture of my ID and license plate and then send it to a friend. Besides, I saved your toilet paper. You know I can be trusted.” He flashed me another one of his grins that made the stormy grey of his eyes disappear.
“I’d appreciate it.”
Matt popped open the trunk of his Honda Civic and put his and my bags inside, giving me the opportunity to inspect him a little better. To ogle him. It wasn’t my fault he had wide shoulders, a nice back, and a muscular butt. He must work hard on his looks, but I hadn’t noticed any vanity yet. Most guys that buff were unbearable.
“So, what do you do?” I asked.
Matt opened the passenger door for me, then took his own seat. “A little bit of everything. I’m studying to be an animator, and I was lucky to get gigs in the industry. It’s not always reliable, but it got my foot in the door. The rest of the time, I do portraits, murals, whatever jobs I can get. There’s always something I can do to make an extra buck, but a lot of it relies on the tourists.” He glanced at me for a moment before bringing his attention back to the road. “What about you?”
I pointed out the correct turn before he missed it. “I’m studying English, Spanish, and German. I was promised a job at an airport if I become fluent in at least five languages.”
“Your English is great.”
“Thanks.” But my accent made me cringe. The extra classes to help my pronunciation only went so far. “It’s easier to learn after you start understanding how languages work. It just takes some time to memorize everything.”
“I don’t know, they tried to beat Spanish into me, but I can’t get past Hola.”
“It’s that building on the right.” I pointed out the giant concrete eyesore that had become my ho
me.
“Give me a minute.” Matt drove past it until he found a parking meter. “I wanna make sure you get that TP inside.”
My face heated. He better not hope to be invited in.
“Come on. I’m a sweet, adorable, toilet paper-saving angel. Your building looks shady.”
“I guess. It’s cheap.” That’s all I cared about. A part-time job could only pay so much, even if the tips were usually good. Not anymore, though. I was officially out of work.
Matt took my bags and carried them for me. He shouldered the first door open and let me in, then waited for me to unlock the security door. The dingy, stinky elevator creaked and groaned all the way to the fourth floor. Finally, we got to my apartment.
Matt leaned against the wall and waited for me to figure out the keys. It wasn’t that complicated. I only had two.
“I threw one quarter into the meter. I gotta get going,” Matt said. “I’ll see you on Discord?”
“Definitely. Thank you for the ride and for helping me with the bags.”
“No problem. It was nice meeting you. I’ll be online most of the day. If you get bored, we can find something to do.”
Chapter 2
Matt
MY EMAIL HAD NOTHING but junk. Great. Just great. How the hell was I supposed to pay rent if this continued much longer? No way in hell I’d move back in with my parents. I logged in to my freelance account and looked for jobs there. A few small gigs for developing logos. Not great, but better than nothing, and I did have a portfolio for that. I placed a bid on each, then went on to the next site. One message there.
Hello. I’m working on a horror film. It’s a small production with a small budget, but I’m hoping to get more backing if I have a good storyboard. Is it something you’re able to do?
No. Never done storyboards in my life, and nothing in my profile should’ve suggested otherwise. Except that I worked cheap.
My finger hovered over the reply button. Oh, what the hell. Sure. I’ve done a couple of storyboards before, although it was a while ago. I can do it for $50 per page.
The clock on my rent payments ticked in my ears. If I had to learn a new skill to make it, I’d do it.
The phone dinged with a private Discord message from one of the guys I went to college with, Kevin. Everyone wanted to chat. The damn shutdown was getting to people, and it had only been two days.
KK: Hey, bro. That chick you invited today is hot. Do you know if she’s single?
I smirked at the message.
MattA: No idea, but she’s not your type.
KK: Bull. I saw her picture. She’s smoking.
Matt: She’s not gonna spread her legs on the first date. Or on the second. Or on the third. She’s pretty shy and doesn’t trust strangers.
KK: Fine, you can keep her.
I switched to the apocalypse server and scrolled through the members until I found Zamira. She had uploaded a photo of herself beaming at the camera with the wind blowing her hair behind her, half covering the mountain in the background. Damn, this image needed to be in higher resolution. Zamira’s face had drawn my attention as soon as I saw her in the store.
I pulled out the good drawing pencil set out of my desk and started sketching. The high cheekbones, the round face, the eyes – large with deep epicanthic folds, and the outer corners pointing upward. I had drawn hundreds of portraits of people from all over the world. She was unique.
I finished the drawing, took a picture, and sent it to Zamira through Discord. Hopefully, she wouldn’t think it was creepy. She had been nervous around me. Perfectly understandable. She didn’t know me. I could’ve been some stalker, for all she knew.
With the drawing put aside, I straightened my back and felt the muscle tightness. Damn. The last few days had been crazy with stocking up for the lockdown, and I didn’t work out much. Another day of skipped exercises and my spine would pop out and run to the shelter for abuse victims.
I glanced at the phone again. Grey circle on Zamira’s picture. Of course. She had better things to do than wait for my dumb ass to send her a sketch. I should have better things to do than wait for her reaction.
The kettlebell called my name. I started my usual workout, always mindful of my back. Drawing all day - every day gave it a beating.
As my muscles began to burn, my mind cleared up. No need to worry about the bills now. Nothing but this moment existed. The world vanished.
My phone buzzed with a notification. Zamira.
Zamira: Wow. Thanks. You’re good.
Texting sucked. It didn’t allow me to see the reaction on her face.
MattA: My pleasure. I wish I had a higher res pic of you so I could make it more detailed. You have a memorable face, though. Whatever wasn’t clear on the picture came from my head.
A minute ticked by. Then another.
Zamira: Are you trying to make me blush or to tell me I have a funny looking face?
MattA: You got a gorgeous face. Guys from the apocalypse server are already asking me about you. I told them not to get any funny ideas, or I’ll sneeze on them.
Again, she took long enough to make me nervous.
Zamira: Why would you tell them that? What if I want them to get funny ideas?
I let out a long breath. Damned if I knew. I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, not until I could get my ex to finally take no for an answer. Zamira didn’t seem like a casual hookup kind of girl.
MattA: Alright, alright, I admit. It was one guy, and he’s not exactly God’s gift to women. I figured you didn’t need to deal with that.
All there was to it. I never tried to stop girls from making mistakes in the past, but Zamira had looked vulnerable and nervous when I helped her with her bags. My protective instincts must’ve kicked in. Nothing to it.
Zamira: So, you saved me twice today. First from the TP thief and now from a bad date. What’s next on your agenda?
MattA: We can save each other from boredom. Wanna play something?
My workout could wait.
Zamira: I don’t play video games. Not that I have anything against them.
MattA: What about chess?
I sent her a link to an app that would allow us to play a few board games.
Zamira: Oh, there’re a lot of games here that I can play. I guess I’m a little old school.
I smiled at her reply.
MattA: I guess it means I’m old school too. I learned most of these when I was a kid. If you wanna play anything other than chess, I’m up for it.
Zamira: Backgammon?
We started a game, and two minutes into it, she hit me. I couldn’t get back on the board because she blocked all six points in her home. Four missed turns later, she finally opened on three.
MattA: You’re way too good at this. I’m kinda jealous.
I rolled five and six. Damn it.
Zamira: I used to play it a lot when I lived in Uzbekistan.
She rolled two and six and used it to bear off one piece and moved the remaining blot to the safety of another point. Three or six now. I could do this.
MattA: Teach me your ways, master.
I got three and one. Finally. I returned my piece to the board, then moved another one closer to home. Zamira rolled a double one and hit me. Again.
Zamira: You need to get luckier.
No kidding.
MattA: Can we both agree that you won this one?
Zamira: What’s my prize?
MattA: A virtual date of your choice.
I hit send before I could think better of it.
Zamira: I don’t even know how that would work. What can we do without going somewhere?
MattA: We could watch a movie together or go on a virtual tour of a museum. There is a site that allows you to go through any museum or gallery the same way as you would walk through a street on google maps.
Zamira: A museum tour sounds great. Can we do it another time, though? I have to study tonight.
And I needed to find some work.
/>
MattA: How about tomorrow? I should be around all day.
Zamira: Tomorrow sounds good. You should pick what museum or gallery to go to, though. You’d know better.
Chapter 3
Zamira
THIS WAS RIDICULOUS. I shouldn’t be this nervous about going on a virtual museum tour. My mind got stuck on this being a date, and nothing I told myself could change it. I had to draw a line on my stupidity and not put any makeup on. We weren’t going anywhere. He wouldn’t even see me. This blue dress I had on could’ve stayed in the closet.
My eyes landed on the bag I left on the coffee table. A couple of tubes of lip gloss, eyeshadow, and mascara hid inside. No. Not happening. Besides, Matt was just bored. We were both locked up with nothing better to do.
This wasn’t a real date.
My phone buzzed with a notification.
MattA: Hey, gorgeous. Are you ready for our date?
Zamira: Yes.
MattA: Cool. Let’s start a video chat, so it’s easier to talk.
Oh no.
Zamira: Can’t we do a regular voice call?
MattA: It won’t be the same. I want to see your reaction to everything.
What on earth did he want to show me?
Zamira: We’re not going to a porn museum.
MattA: I had a few choices in mind, and none of them involve porn. There are two ways to experience everything: yourself and through someone else. If I wanted to experience it myself, I would’ve gone alone. Come on. It’s not like I don’t know what you look like.
He had no idea what I looked like.
Zamira: I don’t have any makeup on.
MattA: You barely had any yesterday. So, without it, you’re beautiful instead of drop-dead gorgeous. I’m not going to complain, I swear.
Damn it. He knew how to sweet-talk. I grabbed my purse.
Zamira: Give me a few minutes.
MattA: You really don’t need to wear makeup.
I put the phone away and rushed to fix my face. Finally, I hit the video call icon and waited for Matt’s amused face to appear.
