He chuckles through the line. “I think I’ll be fine.”
I take a deep inhale. “You say that now. But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I tease and then think of what I just did. “Well, shoot, what am I to do now until you’re caught up, so we can watch it together?”
“How are those runs coming? Is it time to jump back on the bandwagon?”
“Ugh! You would say that. Fine.” I sigh. “The things I do for you,” I say playfully.
“Go get ’em, girl. I’ll be here, learning about your harem and tiger-feeding chick.”
“Don’t worry; you’ll thank me later.”
“Yeah, we’ll see. Have a great run.”
We hang up, and I regretfully close my laptop and head out for a run to pass the time until I can start the show back up.
* * *
Once I’m back from my run, I shower and grab some lunch. Then, I curl up on my couch and send Drew a text.
Me: Are you finished yet?
Drew: Don’t bug me.
Me: Ha! See, you’re hooked.
Drew: This show is like crack. Your description of it did it no justice.
I snort from laughing.
Me: Then, hurry up.
Drew: Then, stop texting. I keep having to press pause, so I don’t miss anything.
I sit back on my couch and start scrolling through Facebook. EveryTiger Kingmeme I see, I stop to read it.
When I see an update about a high school friend who has COVID-19 and is being moved out of ICU, I say a little prayer for him, so thankful he’s doing well.
I check my county’s daily update and learn there are only eighty-eight confirmed cases. I know that seems like a lot, but when it’s compared to over a thousand in Santa Clara County and six hundred in San Francisco, we could have fared much worse.
New York is breaking my heart. My best friend lives there, and I check in with her daily as she stays homebound. They have so many cases that I can’t keep track of it anymore.
I’m searching for any news out of New York when I see the best thing ever. Every night at seven, the hospital workers change shifts, and everyone goes out on their balconies or windows, cheering for the people who are working tirelessly to help save their city.
The video I watch brings tears to my eyes. This is the America I love.
I find more stories about people coming together to support one another. Moms and daughters are making masks for everyone, and local restaurants are serving free meals to our first responders.
When I come across stories of crazies who literally cough and spit on produce or a man who even licked a bank door in Canada, I shake my head and sigh. I know this is a hard time, but people need to realize we’re all in this together. Every single one of us is affected in some way or another.
I read about how some are saying there’s a drug that’s been around for years called hydroxychloroquine, which seems to be a game changer, but then I read about how others are saying the same drug isn’t tested, so news anchors shouldn’t be talking about it.
Just when I’m about to go further down the rabbit hole on the drug and its different reports, my text alert goes off.
Drew: You do know I hate you now, right?
I take a deep breath, ridding my mind of all the stories—scary, political, fearful, hopeful, and who knows what else—that I just read on the news sites and thank God for Drew and the distraction I’ve been craving. I smile big when I pick up the phone and call him.
“It’s all your fault,” he says.
