The Pandemic Diaries [Books 1-3]
Page 30
I’ve finally found my niche in the post-flu world, and it’s not very different from what I was doing before the flu – the only difference is that I’m working in a physical sales environment rather than an online store. Gerald liked how I handled myself at the farmers market back in Spencer, and he recommended that I represent our group at the Glasgow general store.
There’s actually a bit more involved in this new job compared to my old “at-home” work. Rather than just purchasing inventory, marking it up by a certain percentage, and reselling it, managing the general store is almost like managing a micro-economy. Each week, our residents (including the few kids we have) are issued town script as pay for their contributions to the group cause. Everyone participates in the work – even the kids, who perform general chores like cleaning, garbage collection, or feeding, watering, and cleaning up after our livestock. This script can be used at the store to buy various products that are collected from scavenging missions, grown in our indoor gardens, or produced by (or from) our livestock. The challenging part in this process is regulating the prices of the products we get in – handling the “supply and demand” aspect, you might say. One week, we might get more eggs from our chickens, meaning we need to lower the price of an egg. However, if demand for eggs at that time remains high, we might have to keep the price stable or even raise it. If there is a drop in the number of eggs we receive, we might have to increase the price, unless there’s no demand, which means the price remains lower. It’s a delicate balancing act and one that we constantly have to readjust depending largely upon what products we’re getting in and in what quantities. Making it even more difficult is that all four of us managing the store have to agree on a price before it is set. This rule was put in place to ensure that an employee of the store wasn’t artificially manipulating prices to allow them to purchase a majority or even all of a particular product to hoard or to sell for personal gain on the black market. When we have difficulty coming to an agreement for setting a product’s price, we privately write down what we think the price should be and then add up our prices to get an average. Amazingly, in almost every instance, this pricing strategy works.
Personally, I enjoy my job at the store. It keeps me busy, allows me to interact with the community, and it adds a constant element of change to my life that keeps my mind active and makes me feel productive.
Of course, there ARE downsides to the job. It’s never fun telling people we’re out of something they need. And lately, our shelves have been more barren than in weeks prior as we continue to consume more than we produce. But overall, it’s a decent job. At least I’m indoors during the chillier months – although I have to say, Georgia winters are nothing compared to Chicago.
Dylan usually stops by the store for lunch. Most mornings he attends one of the training sessions offered by the town’s residents. These are people who have expertise in the area they’re teaching whether it’s agriculture, mechanics, food prep, medicine (human or animal), or whatever. I’m honestly amazed at how much he’s learning. He’s even teaching ME stuff. And while they aren’t things he might have been taught in his pre-flu grade school, it’s more hands-on instruction related to subjects that I think are going to prove important in post-flu living.
In the afternoon, Dylan comes and cleans the store, restocks shelves, sweeps the floors, cleans the windows, unloads new inventory, and helps people home with the products they’ve purchased.
So far, work at the store is a pretty good gig. I don’t know exactly what will happen should we run out of supplies, but for now, things are going okay.
Wednesday, January 22 nd
10:41 a.m.
Work is slow today, so I’m going to take the opportunity to do some more catching up in my backlog of journal entries.
Let me first give a little more detail about where we’re living. I’d describe Glasgow as the town that time forgot. It’s located in a somewhat isolated portion of south-central Georgia. It’s a cute little burg that had everything a town needed…at least before the flu hit. There was a local grocery store, a hardware store, a restaurant, a coffee shop, a drug store, a gas station, a school, a library, a police and fire station, a small health center, a dentist, an auto repair shop, and a few other assorted small businesses.
I’d say that by the styles of structures housing the businesses around town (those not lining Main Street at least), the most recent was completed around the late 1950s or early 60s. Most of the town’s business buildings along Main Street were constructed toward the earlier part of the 20th century. And while Spencer had old buildings, it had touches of modern too – a Wal-Mart, McDonalds, Dairy Queen, Subway…that kind of stuff. But EVERYTHING in Glasgow is old, and there were no fast food joints or mega-marts for shopping.
The apartment where Dylan and I live is set above the old hardware store. It’s a little two-bedroom job overlooking Main Street. It reminds me of our place back in Spencer. It’s sparsely furnished but has everything we need to make it a home…at least in this new world in which we live.
While we spend most of our daylight hours working, at night, Dylan and I have come up with a nice routine. When we get home – usually between four and five – we spend half an hour or so just relaxing. We talk about our day, maybe play a hand or two of cards (we’ve both gotten very good at two-handed solitaire), or spend a few minutes reading. At around five or five-thirty, we make dinner. Dylan helps me cook (he’s becoming such a little man), and after dinner, he helps me clean up and do the dishes. We try to get our cleaning done by nightfall since most of our lighting comes by way of candles and oil lamps.
Doing dishes is not like in the old days where we had multiple sets of everything and would let the dirty stuff accumulate until there was enough to run the dishwasher. Now we just have a couple sets of dishware, silverware, cups, pots, and pans. It all fits easily in one cabinet and we tend to reuse things like our cups and mugs until we HAVE to wash them. Since we don’t have running water, we now keep a tub of soapy water and a rinse bin of fresh (or FAIRLY fresh) water that we wash our dishes in. We exchange the water in these tubs a couple times each week to keep it from becoming too disgusting. I usually wash while Dylan dries.
On each of our dresser tops, we also keep a small basin of water that we use for washing each morning and evening. Clean water is a more precious commodity here than it was in Spencer. So far, our efforts to get the town’s water system functioning have been unsuccessful, and there are no reliable rivers or streams in the vicinity. We found a house outside of town on a well system, but considering that we’re using this to supply the water needs of the entire community, I’m not sure how long it’ll last. Using this well to collect fresh water and haul it into town is a full-time job for one of our residents. It’s all he does all day – fill containers, load them onto a truck, bring them into town, and distribute them to people. He’s like a milkman in the old days only he handles water, not milk. Each person is allotted two gallons of fresh water a day. It sounds like a lot, but when you consider that we have to utilize it for our drinking, cooking, and washing, it’s not really that much. We’re only allowed one shower per person per week. We have a sign-up sheet and have to take them at the house with the well. We can also do a load of laundry there each week since several washers and dryers are powered from the same generator that operates the well.
Once Dylan and I are done doing dishes at night, and if the weather permits, we like to take a short walk around town. When it’s dark, we usually play a couple more hands of cards. Double solitaire is quite habit forming. Rather than battle each other to see who can play the most cards, we often work together to see if we can play them all out. It’s a fun and time-killing form of entertainment, not to mention, it’s a good bonding activity.
After that, we usually do a little bit more reading. Often, I read aloud to Dylan from books that are a little too advanced for him. Our latest read is The Count of Monte Cristo. Dylan’s really getting into it.
As for weekends, they don’t really exist anymore. The town is too busy to take many days off. Sundays are about the only break we get. We’re still going to church. Both segments of the town attend a sole church. It’s the one place where we seem to come together without a divide. Gerald gives the sermon. He’s very good at it – quite the preacher.
Oops, looks like a customer just arrived, so I’d better stop now.
Saturday, January 25 th
6:14 p.m.
I’m going to start getting ready in a few minutes. I have a date with Chase at 7:30. He asked me out yesterday. Actually, “asked me out” isn’t quite accurate. There is no real “going out” anymore. There’s nowhere to go as far as restaurants or bars or movie theaters or anything like that, so I really have no idea what he has planned. He told me that the evening would be a “surprise”.
Hey, I’m up for anything at this point. I’ve been in such a funk since Violet passed that I think I’m finally ready for a little excitement. It’s time for me to start getting back into the groove of trying to live a normal (as normal as it can be these days) life again.
Like me, and like the rest of the town, Chase has been very busy over the past few months helping get things organized here. He and another man, Eric, handle the repair and maintenance duties of the town’s vehicle fleet. These roles are becoming increasingly valuable positions in the post-flu environment as there are no longer quick-lubes and auto repair shops to take vehicles for service.
I know for a fact that Chase still spends time with Erika. But I haven’t interfered with this aspect of his life. Hell, they’ve known each other since they were kids. What am I supposed to do, tell him not to talk to her anymore? I personally find it unbecoming and somewhat immature when women do that. Plus, at this point in our relationship (if you can call it that), I don’t feel I have any standing to make such a request. While I still want to exhibit an obvious interest in him, which I think I have since we arrived in Glasgow, I just haven’t had the will to push forward with anything more than that. I don’t know how he is viewing the attention he gives Erika – if it’s just friendship or something more. They seem friendly in social settings, but I personally don’t detect more than that. Maybe they’re just good at hiding it. He could be playing both of us for all I know. I’m trying not to think about it and just go into this date with an open mind. I’m willing to set any expectations or pre-conceived notions aside for tonight and just let things take their course. The only thing I’ve asked of him is that I be home by ten. I feel like a schoolgirl with a curfew, but I don’t want to set a bad example for Dylan who is staying with Lamar, our next-door neighbor, for the evening. I don’t want his impressionable young mind thinking that his mother is out traipsing around all night. Maybe it’s silly, but he has lost so much since the flu, maybe I’m a little overly concerned about how he views his mother. But I’m all he has left now, and I want to ensure that I remain a rock-steady example of dependability for him.
10:42 p.m.
My evening with Chase was nice. He picked me up a few minutes after seven, saying that he was sorry he was late but he was stuck in traffic.
I like a man with a sense of humor.
I have to admit, I was intrigued and a little excited to see what he had planned for the evening. He escorted me downstairs and outside. It was clear and chilly out. He guided me over to a waiting vehicle – a modified pickup truck with a camp cover over the bed. I was a little hesitant when I saw it, wondering exactly WHAT he had in mind, but I reminded myself to dismiss any preconceived notions and just go with the flow.
The inside of the truck’s cab was toasty warm, and Chase had a CD playing – some soft bluegrass tunes. I’ve never really been a fan of country music, but something about bluegrass just strikes me right. There’s a deeply rooted sound to it, a very down-to-earth style.
Anyway, we drove for maybe 20 minutes down a tangle of country roads. I had no idea where we were or where we were going, but I was putting my faith in Chase. We ended up at a small pond out in the middle of a large field (I have no idea how he found the place). We pulled up and parked beside it.
At this point in our date, my mind was racing. I wasn’t sure if Chase was just looking to get lucky or if there was more to his dragging me out to the middle of nowhere. After we parked, he rummaged in a bag he’d set between us and pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses. We each had a glass, talked for a while, and then he invited me to go to the camper in the back of the truck with him. I think he sensed my hesitation and explained himself, saying that there was something he “wanted to show me.” My mind in the gutter, I wanted to reply that I was sure there WAS, and I was pretty damn sure that I’d like it, but I kept my mouth shut. Such comments are for husbands and boyfriends, and at this point, Chase is neither.
So, figuring the worst-case scenario was that he’d make a move on me (something I couldn’t say I’d mind all THAT much), I decided to go with it and let things take their course.
Well, I have to say, Chase was a complete gentleman. His intentions were completely honorable, and actually quite romantic. As I crawled into the camp cab, I found that he had placed layers of pillows and blankets inside to make the hard bed-liner more comfortable. Above us, he had cut out a portion of the camper’s roof section and replaced it with a transparent panel so that we could see through the area around our heads. In the darkness of the Georgia night, we laid there and stared up at the stars. It was amazing. It reminded me of the night I climbed atop the boxcar when our train was traveling through Indiana. And I have to say, Chase was a very good boy. He held my hand, but other than that, he made no other advances. Personally, I don’t know how he does it. I was getting all sorts of ideas back there in the cozy darkness of his truck, but he remained steadfast, and so did I.
We talked for a while, and we just stared at the stars for a while. Our conversation wasn’t forced, and our silences weren’t uncomfortable – at least I didn’t think so. That must say something about how our personalities mesh, right? It’s so damn hard to tell what Chase wants. I would think he would have tried SOMETHING back there in the bed of that truck if he was truly interested in me. But maybe he’s just giving me the space I said I needed. Maybe he’s waiting for ME to make the first move. I don’t know.
Anyway, after a while, he asked if I was hungry. Not having eaten since lunch, I told him that I was. He then told me that I should prepare myself for surprise number two.
Well, it certainly WAS a surprise. Chase had decided to cook for me…or at least TRY to cook for me.
When we got back to his place (he lives in an apartment above the old drug store located just down the street from me), he had everything ready to go. All the ingredients (we were having fried fish, brown rice, and toasted bread with olive oil) were prepped, and he instructed me that I was to let him handle all aspects of the cooking. He poured me another glass of wine, pulled a chair out for me at his kitchen table, and said that all I had to do was relax and enjoy.
It sounded good to me, but even the best laid plans…
If I was ever worried about my own cooking offending Chase, I shouldn’t have been. The fish breading was soggy, the rice was gummy, and the toast was burnt.
But the main thing was that he tried. The thought was there and that was what counted in my opinion. I could tell that Chase was embarrassed by his failure, but I did my best to be polite, placate his concerns, and at least TRY to find some redeeming qualities about the meal he served. The fish was good (Chase had caught it earlier in the day at the pond he took me to), although I would rather have had it cooked without the breading. And t
he un-charred portions of toast were good with drizzled olive oil.
And while the dinner attempt might not have been a success, I feel that Chase’s overall effort for the night WAS. And maybe most importantly, I think the date got our relationship back on track after all that has happened since we first met back in October.
That’s how I feel at least. We’ll see how he’s acting the next time I see him.
Sunday, January 26 th
2:13 p.m.
Chase sat beside Dylan and me at church today. After services were over, I invited him for lunch at our place. I didn’t make anything fancy, just chicken and green beans, but I think Chase appreciated a well-cooked meal after last night’s debacle. He was impressed at how Dylan helped with the cooking and serving, and he complimented me on what a good job I was doing raising him. It made me feel really good.
I think I needed to hear such praise regarding my parenting efforts from someone else. It’s hard being a parent in the post-flu world. Hell, it was hard BEFORE the flu, now it’s REALLY tough! There are so few standards on which to gauge one’s efforts. And without Chris, I really don’t have anyone to discuss how things are going with Dylan’s upbringing, where I’ve been succeeding or failing, or how better to handle certain situations or circumstances. It always helped having Chris as a sounding board, if for nothing else but airing my grievances or discussing potential parenting techniques.
But this is the hand I’ve been dealt, so I just need to play it as best I can.
Wednesday, January 29 th