“Knock it off, Zoe.” His fatherly voice always emerged when I goaded him in the areas of love and affection.
“You’re right. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself. Probably not a good idea,” I said bitterly. He continued scolding me, and I tuned him out as I pulled a green Earl’s t-shirt over my head and gazed into the mirror.
Envisioning my usual gallery attire paired with the conservative hairstyle I still wore, I wasn’t surprised I was habitually single. I look like an uptight school marm, I observed regretfully.
Pulling my dark hair from its bun, I watched it cascade past my shoulders and settle just above my waist, uncreased despite the twisted knot it had been in all day. I tried to imagine what I’d look like with Dani’s wild curls and rolled my eyes. Wondering was pointless. My hair was boring and straight, but contrasted nicely with my light skin and blue-green eyes.
My dad had blue eyes, but not quite the same color as mine. They were paler, and his hair was so much lighter. I must look more like Mom…
“Zo? You still there?”
Whoops. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Anyway, it’s nothing,” Dad sighed.
“It’s been over twenty years, Dad. Are you gonna be alone the rest of your life?”
His voice softened the way it always did when he was attempting to reassure me. “Don’t worry about me, hon. I’ve got you kids.” He cleared his throat. I couldn’t help but scoff at the idea of having us “kids” as suitable companions. He and Jason were still trying to rebuild their relationship, and I was on the other side of the country.
“Speaking of you kids…” Dad’s voice brightened. “Jason called me yesterday. He’s doing well and likes Washington more than Colorado. Said he’s moving up in rank real quick.” He paused for a second, and when I didn’t say anything, he continued, “Eleven years as a Green Beret and he’s finally getting where he wants to be.”
“I didn’t know he’d left Colorado,” I said quietly. I couldn’t believe my brother hadn’t told me he was being reassigned…or whatever.
“Oh…I’m sure he’s been busy and doesn’t have much time to talk. He probably assumed I’d fill you in.” Dad prattled on, but I was more focused on the realization that Jason and I had drifted even further apart.
Sarah’s sudden coughing fit in the living room pulled me from my thoughts. Upon hearing one gag after the other, I promised myself I’d make time to get a flu shot soon.
1 SENT TEXT MESSAGE:
TO: D
Tried calling you, but got your voicemail. Is Callie doing better? Dad’s sick too. Can you ask Grams to check on him? I’ll call you after work.
December 5, 5:15 PM
Date: December 5, 2:24 AM
From: Zoe Cartwright
To: Danielle O’Connor
Subject: :(
D,
I tried calling you again, but you’re probably asleep. I hope Callie’s doing better. I’m sorry it took so long to get back to you. I’ve been super busy covering shifts at the gallery AND at Earl’s. I hadn’t realized how many people were sick until last night…one of my co-workers died. Can you believe it?! Maxine was so healthy and young...it’s all so scary. It feels like I was just joking around with her yesterday, and now she’s gone.
BTW, Jason’s apparently stationed over in Washington now. Of course, he didn’t tell me himself; I had to find out from my dad. I bet Jason doesn’t even know you’re in Seattle.
Oh, and of course...HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY! Did you even get to celebrate? Sorry I couldn’t be there, but we’ll make up for it when we see each other for Christmas. I promise. I’m gonna get some sleep before I have to wake up and head to the gallery…again. Happy late 26th!
Hasta la vista,
Zo
After putting it off for a day and getting no sleep thanks to Jordan’s fitful night of coughing and vomiting, I finally took the time to go to the doctor for a flu shot.
Walking into the clinic, I felt like I was entering a prison. The walls were white and sterile, and fluorescent lighting illuminated the bland space. Glass barriers separated the sick from the healthy. Patients stood in zigzagged lines throughout the waiting room like inmates, their medical paperwork in hand instead of eating trays and wrist shackles.
Near the door, a security guard handed out surgical masks. Eyeing the mass of people, I groaned and grabbed a mask before getting in line. My attention was immediately captured by the two women in front of me; they were talking about the Center for Disease Control.
“Well last night the CDC finally addressed the issue nationally,” said the red-haired woman. She clearly thought their involvement was overdue.
“It’s about time.” Her brunette friend seemed relieved.
“They aren’t even sure if the vaccine works yet. The Virus is spreading so quickly…it’s like they can’t keep up with it.”
“I heard they think it’s airborne—not that it’s surprising.”
The redhead nodded. “I know. And they want us all to stay indoors. Real practical.” Her face soured in disgust as she surveyed the crowded room.
I followed her eyes, taking in the number of people with pallid skin and runny noses. My skin crawled as I thought about the orgy of germs I’d walked into. The idea of being in a room swarming with the ill, breathing the same recycled air as the rest of the throng, made my stomach curdle. Great.
Just as I was debating the quickest exit out to the open air, a platinum blonde shuffled through the door. Her skin was unnaturally tanned, her face caked with makeup, and she had bubblegum pink fingernails. Taking a second look, I noticed the heavy make-up was a desperate attempt to cover the cold sores around her mouth and the black half-moons under her eyes.
Blondie stopped dead in her tracks. She took one look at the line drawn out before her and started complaining. “This is ridiculous,” she spat and marched her way to the front of the line.
“Hey! You have to wait in line like the rest of us!” a waiting patient called out.
“Miss, you need to get to the back of the line. There’s no cutting.” My eyes zeroed in on the guard touching the girl’s shoulder. Shouldn’t he be wearing gloves or something?
His eyes widened as he listened to an announcement in his ear piece, then he started speaking again. “If you’ve had H1N1 before, form a line over here please!” He pointed to the far left wall. “If you’re showing any flu symptoms, please stay in the original line.”
I found myself smiling at his words. Thank God, I thought as I moved to the shorter line. Maybe I’ll get to work on time after all.
“Oh, that’s me,” Blondie simpered and smiled at the guard. He eyed her closely as she hurried to my line. The exertion proved too strenuous, and she began wheezing almost immediately.
My phone vibrated, distracting me from the commotion. It was Sarah.
“Hello?” I couldn’t help the apprehension in my voice.
“Where are you?” she whimpered.
“At the clinic attempting to get a flu shot. Why?” I waited for a moment. The phone was silent, and then I realized Sarah was crying. “What happened?” Knowing it couldn’t be good news, my heart raced, and I tasted blood on my tongue as I chewed the inside of my cheek.
“Jordan’s dead,” she sobbed. “I didn’t know if you knew.”
I didn’t know…I hadn’t even realized she was so sick. I’d never been close with Jordan. We’d worked together at Earl’s and had been roommates for two years, but we’d always been too different to be good friends.
“Did you hear me, Zoe? It’s so loud there—”
“Yeah, I heard you.” I stared blankly at the floor. “Where are you?”
“I’m at your house. I took Jordan’s key. Is that okay?” she asked timidly and sneezed into the phone. I thought the question was trivial, but it was sweet that she’d asked all the same.
“Zoe Cartwright?” called a nurse.
When I didn’t respond to Sarah’s question, she choked
out, “Zoe? I’ll leave if you want me to.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll be home soon.”
I hung up and followed the nurse into the doctor’s office. I had to wipe away a stray tear as I remembered the time one of the many douchebags I’d dated left me stranded at some dive bar at two o’clock in the morning. Jordan had come to my rescue, and we’d grabbed a late night coffee before heading home.
1 SENT TEXT MESSAGE:
TO: D
Jordan’s dead…
Date: December 6, 8:45 PM
3
DANI
Zoe’s roommate is dead. With a shuddering sigh, I leaned back against Cam’s body. His arms wrapped reassuringly around me, interlocking just under my breasts. If only there was something sexual in his touch. If only we had the energy for such distractions. His body burned against mine, like he’d spent hours sitting too close to a fireplace. Staring out the wide living room window into the grim winter drizzle, I watched as our combined body heat slowly fogged up the glass.
“D, let’s go to bed.” Cam’s too-hot breath brushed my neck as he spoke, worrying me.
“You go ahead,” I said, meeting his reflected gaze. “I’ll be in soon. I just need to do a few things first.”
Exhaling heavily, he held me more tightly.
I patted one of his hands and murmured reassurances. “I’ll be quick. I promise.”
Cam kissed the top of my head, breathing deeply. “Mmm…D, how do you still smell so good?” He took another deep breath. “Even after two days. You smell…mmm…more like you. If I weren’t so tired…” He trailed off with a husky chuckle. The distinct thread of desire wasn’t enough to push either of us into action.
He released me and moved away. “Don’t blame me if I’m already dead asleep by the time you crawl under the covers.”
Dead asleep. Ha. Ha. I looked at him over my shoulder and gave my least-amused, most-withering expression. He laughed as he retreated to our bedroom.
I examined my reflection in the night-darkened glass and, studying my diminutive height and build, pale skin, and long crimson curls, gave myself the same death stare. Nope, not scary at all. My flushed cheeks and feverishly glowing eyes, however, were a little unsettling. I felt like crap and looked like it.
With a sigh, I plucked my phone from the window sill and called my grandma.
“Hello?” the elderly Irish woman greeted with her usual musical lilt.
I let out an unexpected sigh of relief. “Hi Grams, it’s me.”
“Oh, Dani-girl. I’ve been meaning to call you to see how the rest of your birthday went, but one thing after another kept popping up, especially with all the sick folks. So, how are you, girl? How’s that boy of yours? Did you have a good time on your birthday?” Her raspy voice eased some of my anxiety, but there was just too much sickness and death to settle my nerves completely.
“We’re both fine and…my birthday was…lovely,” I lied. “How are you?”
“Oh…don’t you be worrying about me. These old bones have weathered worse storms. Did you get the package I sent you? I overnighted it yesterday.”
“Uhhh…I don’t know. I’ll check the mail room tomorrow. What’s in it?”
“Medicines and herbs—things to keep you healthy.” She paused for a moment. “Mind you, fetch that package first thing in the morning, you hear?” Her steely tone welcomed zero argument, making me cringe. Things must be bad down there.
“Yes, Grams,” I replied. “Do you think you could check on Tom? Zo said he’s sick. I think she’s really worried.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks. Zo’ll be relieved knowing you’re looking out for him.”
Grams breathed deeply before saying, “Now, I’m sorry, but I really must cut this short. Promise me you’ll take extra special care over the next few days, you hear?”
“Yes, Grams, I promise. You’d better do the same, you hear?” I mimicked, receiving a gravelly laugh in response.
“I do love you, Dani-girl,” she stated earnestly, nearly turning my sudden good humor to tears.
“I love you too, Grams.”
After the goodbyes, a heavy weight settled on my shoulders, like all of my anxiety and fear had solidified and were threatening to crush me. I thought I might understand what Atlas felt like…just a little.
I quickly scrolled to Zoe’s name and pressed call. While I listened to five rings without an answer, I stared at the black Celtic knot tattooed on my wrist, knowing Zoe had the same on her hip. Her recorded voice greeted me after the sixth ring. “You’ve reached Zoe Cartwright. Please leave me a message and I’ll call you back…maybe.”
Sighing, I waited for the beep and said, “Zo…I need to talk to you. Like now. Call me.” I ended the call and quickly logged onto my computer, pondering the email I was about to write.
How much should I tell her? Should I tell her that Callie’s going to die like Jordan? Or that Cam and I are definitely sick? Should I lie to her like I did with Grams? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Callie will make it. Maybe Cam and I aren’t really sick. Maybe none of it’s real.
A twisted version of myself added, maybe telling her will make it real.
Date: December 6, 9:30 PM
From: Danielle O’Connor
To: Zoe Cartwright
Subject: What the hell is going on?
Zo,
I just spoke to Grams. She said she’d head over to your Dad’s soon. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything. Don’t worry about my birthday—it’s really not important right now. There’s too much other crap going on for it to matter.
I’m SO sorry about Jordan. I don’t even know what to say…only that I’m sorry. Was it the flu? I just assumed…
Cam and I just got home from visiting Callie in the hospital again. One of our pseudo friends, Jamie Jenks (I think you met her, she is was the super girly bitchy one), also died this morning. I said some stuff to her—bad stuff—at the pub the other night. Sometimes it’s like I just lose control of my mouth. And now she’s dead. At least Callie is only in a coma. The doctor isn’t sure if she’ll come out of it. I called her parents, and they’re on their way. Her dad said the government is trying to blockade all of the state borders for quarantine or something. Not that it matters, everyone already has the damn virus.
And Jason is stationed near me? No, I don’t care. Seriously. I’m just surprised I didn’t already know we were living in the same state. Whatever. Is he coming home for the holidays? I sort of hope not. Every time I even mention your brother around Cam, he gets his sour, jealous face. I can’t blame him. I sometimes wonder if it’s just a natural male reaction to Jason. He’s just too...I don’t know… everything. Whatever.
But honestly, I feel pretty crappy, so I’m off to bed. Don’t worry…I’m probably just feeling the aftereffects from the big night out and spending too much time in hospital waiting rooms. I’ll let you know about your dad as soon as I hear back from Grams.
Dani
Callie’s dad cleared his throat for the dozenth time before saying, “It happened early this morning and, well, we know how close you two are…were…and we just thought you should know.” The horrible, wrenching strain in his voice pulverized my heart just a little bit more.
The two-bedroom apartment suddenly felt empty—more than empty, like a vacuum—without Callie’s bright energy. She’d always filled the rooms with singing and excitement. Her touches were everywhere, from the spicy orange scent of her favorite candles to the photos of the Seattle skyline she’d taken over the years and placed on the living room and hallway walls. It was her sun-faded couch that I currently sat on and her olive-green angora throw that was currently warming my legs. All of these things were hers, or had been, but I didn’t want any of them—I just wanted to see Callie again.
“Thank you for telling me.” I sounded hollow. How can she be gone? “You’re welcome to stay in her room if you’d like…if it’s not too hard…I mean…I…I’m so sorry…”
Mr. Roberts coughed. “Thank you, but no. That won’t be needed. We’re staying at the hospital, unfortunately. We’re not feeling well.” Oh no…
“Okay, Mr. Roberts, feel better. Just let me know when you’d like to come get her things.”
He choked out, “Of course.”
The call ended with mutual well-wishes. I tossed my phone on the cushion next to me and hoisted my aching body off the couch. I felt like I’d been trampled by a herd of wild horses. As I hobbled over to kneel beside Jack at Callie’s bedroom door, I wondered how my joints weren’t creaking audibly.
When we’d returned home from the hospital the previous night, I’d closed off Callie’s room. Jack kept sitting at her door, trying to lean his furry body through the hollow, fake wood. Except it suddenly felt like the heavy stone entrance to an undisturbed tomb—opening it would break the seal, and with a whoosh, the ancient, stale air would escape to swirl with its modern counterpart.
Steeling myself, I opened the door, finally letting Jack enter the room containing the last vestiges of one of his best friends. I hung back in the doorway, and Callie’s scent washed over me—sustaining and suffocating. She’s never coming back.
Some strange urge drove me further in, forcing me to stare around at all of her belongings—things she would never use again. She’s never coming back.
Standing still, I focused on a blank spot on the wall in an attempt to stop the room from spinning. I was losing it. Emotional control was slipping through my fingers like desert sand. Why isn’t Callie here right now? I collapsed on the floor on hands and knees, fighting back sudden nausea. She’s never coming back.
Jack stopped his sniffling exploration and rushed to my side, licking the backs of my hands. I wrapped my arms around him, clinging to his warmth…his vitality.
After the Ending Page 2
