She refilled her Coke, hoping it would give her enough fuel to stay up until at least eleven p.m. The epidemiology department had just collected an updated set of numbers this week that suggested H7J1 seemed to be starting to extinguish itself. It was a kind of strange hope, since a large number of people were still getting extremely sick and dying. People like Jamie. But collectively, it seemed possible, likely even, that Mother Nature was their best weapon, and time was working against this beast. Chase didn’t want to let her guard down, though. Not with the impending fall and winter. It was already almost October, a reality that continued to evade her, considering how goddamn hot it still was here. She was used to autumn in Georgia, but this was something else. Louisiana in October felt like Georgia in late August. Chase had to keep reminding herself that though the numbers were looking better, the cold and darkness were coming. People were about to spend a lot more time indoors, in much closer quarters. She could only hope the virus continued to overestimate itself, at least long enough for someone to come up with a vaccine.
The ice cubes in Chase’s Coke knocked on the edges of her glass when she swirled her straw around, making a satisfying clunk that soothed her momentarily. Out of her peripheral vision she saw Norah casually strolling toward the buffet line like she didn’t have anything important on her mind. Chase watched her pick up a hotdog, slather it with ketchup (something Chase always found incredibly offensive), and fill her thermos with hot coffee. She made her way to the table where John and two of the epidemiologists were sitting, where Chase had been sitting, and Chase heard her greet them with a nonchalance that alarmed her. When had she become such a good liar?
“Feeling better?” Chase asked Norah once she resumed her place at the table. She had told the rest of the team that Norah had a headache and wanted to lie down before dinner.
Catching the hint, Norah nodded and smiled.
“Much, thanks.”
“Have you heard anything more about Jamie?” John asked so abruptly Chase’s heart nearly fell out of her chest and onto the floor.
“She’s intubated,” Norah said, not missing a beat. “I spoke to the hospital earlier.”
John cleared his throat and frowned.
“Has anyone spoken to her parents yet?”
The thought hadn’t even occurred to Chase. But she bet it had occurred to Norah.
“I have. I called them just before dinner. They’re in St. Louis. Her dad’s best friend just died of H7J1. They’re not taking the news about Jamie well, understandably.”
“I can’t imagine if it were my kid,” John said.
Chase suddenly desperately wanted to change the subject.
“On a brighter note, I heard the case numbers are down even more this week?”
One of the two epidemiologists, in his Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses looking more like he sold surfboards in Maui than held a PhD, lit up with excitement and slammed his glass down.
“It’s crazy. I can’t fully explain it. My biggest fear at this point is a mutation, though.”
A mutation of the virus. Chase and Norah had talked about the possibility a million times. They saw no indication that might happen yet, but viruses are smart. They tend to evolve faster than we can kill them. But Chase just couldn’t let herself worry about that possibility tonight.
After dinner Chase, Norah, and John sat at the table known as the Situation Room and talked long into the night. Norah looked tired and frail in the glow of the laptop screens, and Chase wanted more than anything to take her to bed and hold her. She knew just how tortured she was by what they’d done with Jamie, and Chase longed to take that pain and worry away from her.
More good news was coming every day. H7J1 had been known to the authorities for just about six months now, and Johnhad told them that night that the FDA had fast-tracked a vaccine that would be readily available to front-line workers in the next six to eight weeks. They might even be able to go home in the next month or two. Chase reminded herself she didn’t have a lot to go home to. As John talked about the timeline of the vaccine rollout, both he and Norah bubbled with a cautious optimism. Chase wasn’t as enthusiastic, thinking about returning to a life of meaningless sex with Olivia, late nights alone with a glass of scotch, and no more Norah. What had once been good enough now just felt empty. Chase didn’t want to go home. Not without Norah. She fought the fantasy of transporting whatever this was between them back to Atlanta. Norah would come to Chase’s apartment, and Chase would cook them elaborate meals and stay for days on end, waking up every morning to Norah’s sweet, sleepy eyes and falling asleep every night with their bodies pressed together.
John continued his excited ramblings about the efficacy of the vaccine and how nice it would be able to go to the grocery store or the movies again. He gushed about his grandkids and how he might get to see them sooner than he had thought possible. Norah was a little quieter, talking about her elderly neighbor she’d grown close with and wondering if she was doing okay on her own. But she still exuded as much lightness as could be hoped for, considering the worry about Jamie and the day they’d had. Chase, on the other hand, had failed to stop the fantasies that had completely consumed her thoughts. She had now quit listening entirely, instead dreaming about a world where Norah walked down an aisle to her in a beautiful dress and they exchanged rings in front of their friends, and Chase could tell everyone “my wife did this. My wife saved humanity.” She glanced down at her left hand, picturing a simple silver band on that ring finger, and how marrying Norah had been so much a part of her plan so many years back it hadn’t even been a question. What if they could still have that life together? They could have their ownlittle house in the suburbs, with a yard with trees to support a hammock that Norah could read in during the fall, all bundled up in her parka because she was always cold. They could have kids. Okay, maybe not kids, but at least a dog. Chase wanted Sunday farmers’ markets and more overdone Christmases. She wanted to fight with Norah and then make up. She wanted more black-and-white movies after long hours of sex, mundane weekend projects, and a simple, happy life. She wanted all this so badly in that moment that she physically ached.
“I’m really tired. I think I’ll turn in.”
Norah and John both looked at her, confused. Chase had always worn her emotions on her face, so much so that one of her attendings in med school had referred to her as “an eye roller.” It didn’t help that Norah knew her better than almost anyone.
“Good idea. It’s late. We should all get some sleep.” John was the first to get up, but Chase wasn’t far behind. She wanted to get back to her tent before Norah saw just how torn up she was. She had no idea what was so wrong with her that night. Maybe it was just the long day and worrying about Jamie. Maybe all the stress of the last several months had finally caught up with her. Or maybe Chase was just finally accepting that whatever this was between her and Norah was self-limited, contained only to this apocalyptic hellscape. When life resumed as normal, Norah would once again disappear, and their connection would all be over again.
“Chase, wait.”
She’d almost made it back to her tent alone, fully prepared to wallow in the depths of her self-pity.
“Oh. Hey.” Chase mustered what she was sure was an obviously fake smile and turned around to see Norah.
“Can I come with you?”
All Chase wanted was to be with Norah, that day and every day. But she didn’t want Norah to see the pain she was in this night. It was ridiculous. Chase had lost her so many years ago,at her own hand, and if it weren’t for the threat of their own mortality and the gift of proximity, they’d be nothing to each other. Still, she’d rather have Norah for as long as she could than not at all.
“I thought you wanted to be alone.”
“I did. I was. And now I want to be with you. Please?” A softness in Norah’s eyes melted Chase until she nearly forgot about the future.
