Social Distancing

Chapter 16: Unraveling at the Seams

While no one probably ever felt this way, it was a good thing I was quarantined in the hospital for two more days after I'd reached Noah's Gram. She'd given me his parent's number, but I hadn't called them because I spent all my time feeling absolutely distraught. Distraught wasn't actually the right word, I suffered from hysterically convulsing panic attacks.

I hadn't realized how important Noah was to me until faced with the likely outcome that he was gone. I cried for six hours straight. I couldn't fight the anxiety attacks anymore and had four episodes after speaking with Noah's Gram. I couldn't bear to ask further questions, and other than he'd seen his family, then gone into isolation almost as soon as he gotten off the train, she didn't have any further information.

After the fourth episode, I gave in to the doctors who harassed me about anti-depressants. I only allowed them to administer them to me since I was afraid they wouldn't discharge me and instead had me sent me to the psych ward. They didn't work instantly, but felt like a slow fog clouded into my brain. My thoughts literally felt like they moved slower and I couldn't see why anyone would have found that uplifting or calming.

Finally though, I'd convinced the doctors that today was my release day, although I was instructed to self-quarantine for another forty-eight hours to let the Tamiflu run it's course.

The hospital ran a COVID-19 test because of where I worked, whose results took five days due to the newness of the outbreaks, but mine returned negative. Apparently COVID-19 had spent enough time with me and we could part our separate ways. So I left the hospital foggy-brained, with a bundle of pills that I never intended to take but accepted them so I could leave.

I took a strange, quiet cab ride to my apartment. Outside the sky was gray with clouds but the air still felt fresh to breathe in after being surrounded by sterile smells of disinfectants at the hospital. The previously bustling streets were quite deserted, and the spare people outside had their faces covered in masks and hands gloved.

So this is what a pandemic looks like.

Desolate was the best word to describe the inner streets of Lond. The only stores I saw open were petrol (gas) stations, pharmacies, and... supermarkets. I didn't pass by the store Noah had worked at near UCL, but every one I saw made my knee bounce. Even the anti-depressants couldn't suppress everything.

Once inside my apartment, the space felt empty and sparse as normal. But now my flat also seemed dark. I hadn't moved anything since Noah had left, not the sheets and blankets on the bed. I sat down, ran my hand over the spot he'd laid, and sighed. As my hand felt a pile of something lumpy, I pulled back the blankets and found his discarded t-shirt. He'd taken off during the night since he'd gotten warm, and had forgotten it.

As my fingers edged over the neckline, tears pricked into my eyes. I doubled over, hugged his to my chest, and allowed the sobs I'd held back from the hospital escape. The t-shirt still smelled like him, fresh and clean and... like Noah. I collapsed sideways, curled myself around his shirt, and cried until I was too tired to cry any more and slipped into a comatose-like sleep.