Nobody in this line is happy. We glare at one another, painfully aware of how limited resources are at this moment in time and wondering how far we would go to ensure we get what we need. I haven’teven thought to wear a mask, and as I wait in line, I kick myself for the thousandth time for having buried my head in the sand when it comes to COVID. Now I look like one of those COVID deniers.
Inside the store, I swipe things without really thinking. My mind is a mess—I can hardly make a single coherent thought out—so I just grab whatever I see that I think I might vaguely need: flour, rice, a six-roll pack of toilet paper, eggs. Then I stand there for a few seconds, wondering what else it is I might need. Someone shouts out, “Hurry up please! There’s a long line waiting outside!” I startle, my face burning. God, I’m so stupid. I look around frantically and grab more things. Eggs. A pathetic avocado. I should get canned food. Right. I hurry to the canned food aisle, which is mostly empty, and grab whatever’s remaining. On second thought, I snatch up another bag of flour and two bags of sugar, and now I have way too many things to carry, but somehow I still feel like I’m woefully unprepared for whatever is coming next.
I struggle with the bags all the way home, panting, the sacks so heavy I feel like my fingers are about to be yanked right off. As I unlock my apartment, Terry’s door opens, and he pops his head out.
“Hey, neighbor,” he says.
“Hey.” I push my door open and am about to say bye, but he continues talking.
“Just stocked up on the essentials, huh?” he says.
I look down at the bulging bags, which are killing my neck and shoulders. “Yep. Anyway—”
“I was laid off,” he says, his expression wide open, like he’s expecting me to give him a hug.
“Oh. I—I’m sorry to hear that.” Should I say more? I’m bad at social interactions in general, and even worse when it comes to awkward situations like this.
Terry shrugs. “Well, what’re you gonna do, right? It’s a pandemic, baby!”
I wonder if he’s high. “Yeah,” I say.
“Do you need help with that?”
“No,” I say, so quickly that it makes the thick atmosphere unbearable. “Sorry, I should—we shouldn’t be talking in such close quarters. ’Cause of the, uh, the virus.”
“No, yeah, of course. Just thought I’d be neighborly and say hi. Anyway. Take care.”
“Bye.” I rush inside and lock the door before letting my head thump against the wall, my throat dry. I don’t know why I was so nervous talking to Terry. I mean, sure, I’ve never liked the guy, but the anxiety I felt earlier is something new altogether. With a sickening feeling, I realize it’s because of the virus. The sight of his unmasked mouth and nose in such close proximity made me want to wash my hands sixteen million times. I’d thought that I’d largely kept my head out of this whole pandemic thing, but I guess in the end, all that news did seep into my pores, turning me paranoid.
Paranoia is a feeling I am very familiar with, and I hate this about myself, hate how quickly I recognize the dark edges of it, hate how easily it calls out to me. I turn on an audiobook while I put away the stuff I’d bought, trying to keep my mind off the fact that there is a literal pandemic unfolding around me right now. Whenever I think about the wordpandemic, it appears in my mind as a shriek, harsh and jagged, the letters flashing in fire alarm red. I exhale and push the word out of my mind. When I’m done putting everything away, I make myself a cup of chamomile tea and take it with me to the computer. Feeling intensely lonely all of a sudden, I open up the Slack group. But every channel now seems to be talking about nothing but COVID.
#General channel:
Anna:Welp, our offices just issued the WFH mandate, so I guess I’ll be around a lot more often in the coming days!
Yuna:Happy to have you here, I’m the same, I’ll be bored out of my mind the next two weeks, lol.
#Covid channel:
Felicity:You guys, I was just informed that my launch event is going to be canceled because of the pandemic
Haven:Oh my god, Fel, noooo! I’m so so sorry, is there anything I can do??
#Questions channel:
Christine:Does anyone know of a good publicist? My in-house publicist is sick, and poor thing has enough on her plate so I’m looking to hire an external one ...
Of course, the channels that are properly hopping are #commiserations and #covid. Everyone is miserable, and some of us even know people who have contracted the virus. I sit there sipping my tea and catching up with the messages with a growing sense of dread. When did all this happen? Why do I feel so out of the loop?
The thought of it makes me want to laugh—I am having FOMO over a pandemic. God, that’s pathetic. I check on the group chat.
Jenna:I don’t even know what’s going on with my launch event . Did you see what Felicity said? Hers has been canceled. Mine’s only three weeks after hers. I bet it’ll end up being canceled too
Lisa:Oh my gosh, that would be heartbreaking, but Jenn I really doubt it would be! I mean, the stay home order is only going to last for a month, right?? We just sit tight at home for two weeks and it’ll all be over and things will go back to normal!!
I hadn’t even thought of Jenna’s launch event. I’d known it was happening, of course, Lisa and I had even discussed going to Boston and surprising her at her event. I hadn’t booked flights for it yet since it’s still about a month away, and I find myself being relieved that I’d procrastinated booking flight tickets for it. That’s a shitty thought to have, I chide myself.
Fern:Omg Jenna, thatSucks! I agree with Lisa though, there’s still plenty of time to go and I’m sure things will be fine by then. I can’t imagine this thing lasting too long.
