Archives for May 2020

“You’ll be fine they assured me, just get in, close the deal and you’ll be home in no time,” Andrea had said.

I was dumb enough to believe her. Ignoring the media, and the risks I got on the plane and flew to Detroit to close this deal. There was a lot of money on the table, if one of the big automakers picked up our computer programs for their automation line, it would be a big win for our company. Also, when the Vice President of the company singles you out to go, you go. At the time, my apprehension about going just seemed like paranoia. Andrea was smart. The plan was to get in and out, with a signed deal. God, I was so stupid.

I have been stuck in this hotel room, quarantined for the past three weeks. When I got here, I felt a little under the weather, but I pushed on, thinking it was a cold. When I got to my meeting most of the board members who I would meet with had declined to come, due to the pandemic. A wasted trip I thought to myself. I went back to my hotel and decided to sleep off whatever I was coming down with, it never dawned on my I had caught the virus. I woke the next morning feeling even worse. I always carried a small kit with me, of a fever reducer, a thermometer, antacid etc., like a travelling medicine cabinet. I took my temperature which was high, 103. I took fever reducer and went back to bed; I was so sick I didn’t care to eat.

I was awoken late in the afternoon by loud knock at my door. I got up still feeling unwell and answered the door.

“Miss Lannert, are you alright, you missed check out? We’ve been trying to reach you by phone.”

I tried to piece time together, I didn’t check out until the next day. I was confused.

“What day is today?”

“It’s Thursday, March 15^th. Are you okay Miss Lannert?”

I had slept for almost thirty-six hours straight. I was so confused.

“I’m sorry I’m unwell. Can I book the room for another night?”

“Of course. We have a hotel doctor, I can have him come and help you if you’d like?”

The panic on the hotel manager’s face said it all, I was in trouble, healthwise. Normally, I would decline but I simply shook my head affirming to send the doctor, and closed the door, crawling back into the bed. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been so ill.

The next time I woke, there was a man standing above me, with salt and pepper hair and a face mask on. Normally, I’d startle but I was too sick to care. He introduced himself as a doctor for the hotel and performed a cursory exam, stating that he thought I had come down with the virus that more than half of the country had.

“I’d send you to the hospital but they’re beyond capacity. I can start an IV here, and see if a bed opens up for you at the hospital, in the meantime we’ll monitor you closely from here. I need to know if you are experiencing any shortness of breath, blurred vision, or numbness in yours extremities. The gentleman next to you is ill as well, we will see which one of you goes first. Have you been in contact with anyone who you think might have the virus?”

I nodded I had not. He asked more questions, confirming his suspicions that I had the virus. With a lack of tests, and them being slow to provide results, neither of us pressed the issue. I scribbled my name across a consent form and he started an iv.

Before he left, he told me a nurse would be by to help look after me and the gentleman in the room next to me, but if I had any trouble breathing to call 911. I could barely keeps my eyes open and was asleep again before the doctor left my room. I woke in the late afternoon, feeling better than I had in days. My I.V. bag was almost gone, and all I could think was that the fluids had to have helped. I sat upright, like I was waking from a trance. I reached over from my phone, seeing all of the missed calls from my roommate Becky, work, and my parents. I didn’t want to worry anyone, I needed to think about what to say without terrifying them. I texted my roommate, then called into work, which exhausted me. I would wait to call my parents when I sounded stronger.

The next two days were a blur, as I slowly improved. I don’t think the fear of my condition helped any. On the fifth day of my illness, my fever broke, much to my relief. I began eating again, and slowly started to feel better. The hotel had been wonderful, making sure I was cared for and I was truly grateful, albeit terrified of my situation. After a week down, I finally felt well enough to get up and move around my room a little. I finally called my family and told them what was happening, as I hoped the worst had passed. I was still weak, but grateful to be on the mend.

That night as I laid in bed, the hotel seemed quieter than usual. At dinner, the nurse had come and removed my IV. I was grateful to have it out, needles had always creeped me out. Despite being exhausted, I found sleep eluded me. I tossed and turned, longing for my own bed at home, but even if I was well enough to travel, I wouldn’t have wanted to go home and infect my roommate, who was still healthy, thankfully. I heard a soft noise I couldn’t quite make out, I listened again, and it seemed familiar but I still could not name it. The noise was coming from the room next to me. I got up and listened, it was the noise was of a man crying. There was something about the noise of it that hollowed out my soul. I knew he was ill too, but I didn’t know much beyond that. I wanted to help but I wasn’t sure what to do. I knocked gently on the wall. He quieted, and I hoped my intentions had not been misconstrued. I wasn’t asking him to be quiet, it was my way of letting him know someone else was here. I pressed my ear against the wall and heard him still crying quietly.

The hotel was old but renovated and it still had a door that connected our rooms. I knocked again on it, not sure if I was nuts or not.

“Are you okay?” I called out softly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He called out in return.

“It’s okay, do you need anything?”

The question seemed absurd, I was barely out of bed myself, what could I possibly offer a complete stranger. I pushed my ear against the door and listened, but heard nothing. I waited and listened, hearing only the sound of my battled breathing. Eventually I climbed back into bed, but the situation left me uneasy. I rolled over and dialed 568, the room next door, never expecting it to work. The phone rang and a man’s voice croaked,

“Hello?” he asked weakly, then coughed.

I regretted my boldness. This was a mistake, the guy next door was a stranger but, I was in it now.

“Hello, hi, I’m in the room next door.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, I wasn’t calling for that. I couldn’t sleep. I just wanted to see if you were okay?”

“It’s weird, this illness, isn’t it? At first you can’t sleep enough, so tired, and then you can’t sleep to save your life.”

I let out a small laugh, he was right.

“Yeah, I think I’ve reached that phase, I am on day 10. How about you?”

There was a pause, and I instantly feared I had crossed some unspoken line in our conversation.

“I am on day 11 or 12 I think, I couldn’t tell you really. The days at the beginning are sort of a blur.”

“Yeah, I have never been that sick in my whole life.”

“Hey, I don’t want this to come out wrong, but thank you for calling. This is so lonely being stuck in this hotel room alone, away from home, ill. It’s,” he paused, “It’s scarry, you know?”

“I do. I’m here on business.”

“Me too, where from? You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

“I’m in from California, I work for a tech company. You?”

“I’m in from New York. I think I came down with this on the plane. Had I know I was ill before I left, I would’ve never left.”

“Same here. What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a lawyer, corporate law. Thank you for calling, it was very kind of you.”

“We’re all doing our best to survive this, you know?”

“I do. Tell me something good, something happy.”

His breath was more labored from the conversation, and I knew he was getting tired, because I was too. I didn’t know what to tell a complete stranger, so I chose the only thing we both shared in common.

“My I.V. came out today.”

“Thanks for that. That is good news. I hope mine comes out tomorrow. Thank you for calling, it was sweet.”

“You’re welcome, 568.”

“568?”

“It’s your room number, 568. I didn’t get your name.”

“Ah, clever. It’s John.”

“It was nice to meet you John, I am Isabell. Sleep well.”

“You too Isabell. Call if you need anything in return.

Over the next week, John and I spoke nightly. He was the only person I knew that shared this experience with me, thankfully. His voice on the phone became something I looked forward to, beyond the endless hours of television. I was well enough to work for short periods of time, but I found that I tired easily. John confirmed he was experiencing the same symptoms. We were both quarantined along with most of the 5^th floor for the next month. I was desperate to return home, but I also understood that I could still be infectious, and knew it was best to stay put.

We had spoken a lot about random things, and I noticed our conversation tended to stray away from the personal. I didn’t mind, John was a stranger after all. Curiosity finally got the better of me, as I looked John Hampton up on social media. His salt and pepper hair, strong jaw, and deep brown eyes were just my type. I saw that he had gone to Yale for school. His photos sported a string of pretty women at his side in the pictures. I noticed no one was pictured more than once. I couldn’t help but feel my neighbor was a bit of a player, yet over the past few weeks, I had gotten the impression that he was a decent guy. I laid on my bed and jumped when the phone on the nightstand rang, as I looked dug deeper into his Facebook page. I felt like I had been caught red-handed, even though there was no way for him to know I was creeping on his page.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Isabella. I was wondering, does anyone ever call you Izzy?”

“My mom does sometimes. How are you tonight? Any new weird symptoms since you seem to be two days ahead of me?”

“Thankfully, no. Can I call you Izzy?”

“I guess. How are you feeling?”

“A little better every day. You know it surprises me, even after all of these weeks I still tire easily. How are you feeling today?”

“The same as you. I am homesick today.”

“Tell me, what do you miss most about home, other than the fact that it is home?”

I paused in my response as I thought.

“Well my own bed for one, but I think I miss the ocean most of all. I miss it.”

“Do you have a favorite spot to view the ocean, or a favorite beach?”

“I have lots of favorite place, but more in general, I just really miss it.”

“You’ll get back soon enough, I promise. So, tell me something good that happened to you today.”

He asked me that every day, and I found myself thinking all day what my good thing to tell him would be.

“Well, there are new free movies on the movie system. I’ve never watched so much tv in my life, but I must admit my guilty pleasure, there is a new Jules Derry documentary I really want to watch about washer women in India.”

“That is good news. I met her once on a flight from Brazil.”

“Really, that’s so cool. What was she like?”

“Artsy. She was nice enough. I’ve only seen one of her films about the women from the Inuit tribe. I remember it, it left a lasting impression on me. So, if you were at home in Chicago would you have gone to the theater to see it? Are you a movie snacks kind of person or no?”

I giggled, “Yes and no. I usually buy my own popcorn, then sneak in Chardonnay. I know that’s weird, but I really like popcorn and Chardonnay together. I always feel like such a rebel. How about you?”

I heard John laugh, and for the first time I noticed I liked making him laugh.

“I’m the guy with the giant snack tray. I can’t help it. I came from a poor family, and as a kid I didn’t get to go to the movies a whole lot. If we did, we didn’t get snacks. Now as an adult I buy the whole counter when I go.”

This time he made me laugh.

“That’s funny, I can imagine you, arms full of junk food with a big grin on your face.”

“Have you been online stalking me?”

I had outted myself unintentionally, I laughed nervously. “I may have looked you up.”

“Well since we are being honest I looked you up too, it’s nice to put a face with a name.”

“It is.”

“What did you order for dinner tonight?”

“I haven’t decided. You?”

“I thought it seems like a good night for a burger and a beer.”

“That does sound good. And a good documentary.”

“I have a crazy idea. Feel free to decline, but would you like to eat dinner with me tonight, and then maybe we could watch that documentary, if you were up for company?”

I felt my stomach flip nervously.

“Okay. Are we allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not, we’ve both had the virus. We can’t re-infect each other and we aren’t leaving our rooms. If you don’t want to that’s okay.”

“No, I’d love to. My room or yours?”

I realize how forward that sounded and cringed inside.

“Your choice.”

“How about mine in a half hour?”

“Okay. See you in a half hour.”

I hung up the phone as a wave of panic washed over me. I had not washed my hair today or put makeup on in almost a month. I tided the room and made the bed. It felt strange to be inviting a man to my room. After the room was more presentable, I put some blush on and noticed my hand shook. I realized I was nervous. I knew it was crazy to be so excited, to have dinner with a man who was practically a stranger. I hadn’t seen another person unless it was medical staff, and they were in full PPE when the visited, in almost a month as well. Housekeeping left clean bedding, and towels outside our door, as we swapped clean for dirty that was bagged up every other day. Even room service left the food outside our doors. We were not allowed to open our doors until the room service staff had cleared the hallway. I tried to make my hair more presentable. I was naturally curly, and I normally straightened it. I pinned it back as best I could and put on lip gloss. I examined myself in the mirror, it looked like I had put in effort, maybe too much. I wiped my gloss off and reexamined. It was better, I thought.

I heard a knock at the door that separated our rooms. I felt a nervous flip in my stomach, he was on the other side of the door. I put my hand on the doorknob as I unlocked the deadbolt with my other hand. I pulled the door open and there he stood, before me, the calming voice on the other side of the phone. He had on a soft blue, button-down shirt, and jeans. He had rolled his sleeve cuffs on his shirt and wore a thin beard. I couldn’t believe that he was finally standing in front of me.

“Hi,” I said.

“You’re real,” he said vocalizing my inner thoughts. “I hope this isn’t too forward, but you are more beautiful in person.”

I smiled as looked down bashfully, I had always been terrible at taking a complement.

“Your hair is curly. On social media your hair is straight.”

“I normally straighten it. I am naturally curly. I haven’t really done anything with it because..” I gestured around the room.

“It’s pretty.”

I found his complement sweet. I could not stop staring at him, his eyes were the color of a dark cup of coffee. I felt like I was reconnecting with an old friend, even though we had not met in person until now.

“Thank you, do you want to come in?”

I moved out of the way and gestured to the tiny couch. Having him sit on the bed just felt odd.

“Your room is the same as mine.” He laughed. “I haven’t ordered dinner yet. Have you?”

“No, not yet, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to wait.,” I said as he sat on the navy-blue couch.

“I’m starving, so I am ready whenever you are.”

“Me too.”

I walked over a picked up the phone and put in our orders. I sat in the armchair in the small sitting area of my room and caught John staring at me.

“What?”

“Sorry, it’s just nice to be next to another person. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s alright, I get it. It has been an odd experience, hasn’t it?”

“I don’t think odd is a big enough word for it. Have you seen the news today? Over fifty- thousand have been infected so far here in the US. Poor Italy, they are still in the trenches too.”

“I had to stop watching. I just couldn’t handle it. That is so many. It feels like the whole world is falling apart every time I watch it.”

“I lost my job today.”

I turned and looked him, the shock of his news spread across my face.

John shrugged his shoulders, “I’ll be alright. I always seem to land on my feet.”

“You know things are bad when America, is laying off attorneys.”

I wasn’t sure if he would understand that it was meant joke, albeit a poorly timed one. I was relieved when John let out a laugh from deep inside.

“I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry you lost your job.”

“No, it’s true. I’m going to have to leave soon. I can stay for a few may days but work will not be paying for the room anymore.”

“Oh John, are you well enough to travel home?”

“I’m going to rent a car and drive. I want to reduce expose to as few people as possible.”

“That’s a long drive, are you up for it?”

“It is but I can do it in one day, a long day, but one day.”

“That’s actually a good idea for getting home. I was nervous about flying, even though we aren’t supposed to be infectious anymore, I don’t want anyone to go through what we just went through. It would be a much longer drive for me though, and I’d have to stay at hotels along the way.”

“After I leave, can I still keep in contact with you? Maybe not nightly, but you know. Just keep in touch?”

“I’d like that.”

There was a knock at my door and I knew it was our dinner. I jumped up and waited on our side of the door for the room service attendant to clear the hall before I stepped out and grabbed the trays that were stacked on top of each other. They were heavier than I had expected and I strained at the weight of them. John came from behind me and gestured to grab them. I pressed my body up against the door so he could pass. I could smell him for the first time, and there was something about the way he moved that I found incredibly attractive. There was a moment, just a split second where he noticed me in the same way. The hair on my arms stood, as I felt prickles on the back of my neck. John carried the trays back to the sitting area and set them on the small coffee table. I sat back down on the chair and he sat back down on the couch. We ate our dinners and he was right a burger and a beer hit the spot. As we ate I realized that something special shared between us was coming to an end, and that realization was met with sadness.

After dinner, we sat on the bed to watch the documentary. Part of me wondered if he was doing it for me or he had a genuine interest in Jules Derry’s work. I tried to concentrate on the film but I couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to make a move. I played and replayed my reactions to his advances time and again in my head, so much so that I found it difficult to concentrate on the documentary. I had surprised myself that I would actually welcome his advances. It was so odd, John felt like a stranger. The back of his hand brushed up against mine. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, but I hooked a finger of his and he took the cue, gently grabbing my hand to hold it. I waited with bated breath for his next move, but it didn’t come. The sexual tension was heavy, and he still hadn’t made a move.

As the credits rolled, he turned to look at me, and my stomach did that nervous filp again.

“I know this sounds crazy, and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m really going to miss you.”

“Not at all,” I said softly, “‘m going to miss you too.”

He leant in to kiss me and I knew it would stoke the 4-alarm fire going on inside me. He kissed my cheek softly and pulled away just enough to look me in the eye. Before I could make another move he pulled away completely. I had given all of the signs for him to go ahead, but he didn’t. I felt panicked, had misread the situation entirely? John got up off of the bed, his body language lingered like he didn’t want to leave.

“I need to go. Thank you for tonight.”

Before I could respond he turned and walked out closing the door between our rooms behind him. I was so confused. I reached for the phone to call him and then stopped. I wondered if I had offended him somehow. I put the phone back down on the receiver and sat in silence. His room was silent as well. After a while I got up and took a shower. I buttoned my pajama top and looked in the mirror after my shower still confused. I had to know. I walked over to the hotel door and knocked gently. I didn’t hear any movement and wondered if he was asleep. I knocked again, deciding this would be my last attempt tonight. I heard his footsteps approach and I took a step back so he could open the door. He opened the door and stood there bare-chested, his pajama pants hugging his hips.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I just have to know, did I offend you in some way?”

“No it wasn’t you. I’m sorry I left the way I did, it was rude.”

“What happned?”

“I couldn’t stay and not kiss you. Kiss you for real, not a peck on the cheek.”

I stepped forward into his room and placed my hands around the back of his neck and kissed him. I didn’t hold back. I felt his arms wrap around me as he pulled me in closer to him. I kissed him right there until my lips tingled. Kissing him was so much better than I had imagined. He felt like home, and passion, and warmth, and so much more all at once. John pulled away first.

“Wow,” he said in a whisper.

I leaned back in, and he pulled away a little further.

“Wait, Izzy, I really like you. I don’t want to hurt you, I have a terrible track record with women. You’ve been someone special to me, I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt you.”

“Then don’t.”

“Isabell.”

“If you aren’t into me, that’s okay, I’m a big girl, I can handle that. If you are afraid, then what we have been through together is all of the more reason to take a chance, isn’t it?”

He moved his hands to either side of my cheeks as he brought my lips to his, kissing me, to the point that my knees wobbled. I had never been kissed like that in my life. We spent the night together in his bed. I woke the next morning in his arms and I knew something had changed for both of us, little did I know that it would be the first morning waking in the arms of my soul mate, my husband, the father of my children and my best friend.

My phone buzzed again; shit I knew it was him. As the woman wasn’t, I supposed to be the overly attached one in this scenario. I stood in my perfect kitchen, in my perfect house, baking cookies during quarantine, playing perfect wife and mother to the life I had built. Well, quarantine life was not what I had built, but like the entire world, I was making the best of it. We were in week three and both my husband and I had moved our lives from outside to inside. We both travelled a lot for work, separately of course. All that time apart left a human need for intimacy, so on occasion, I took care of it, sometimes alone, sometimes with company. My husband, Ken, and I never discussed it but I felt that he had done the same. My actions of infidelity weren’t weaponized, they just filled a basic need, nothing more.

I remember sitting in a cab in Prague when one of Ken’s flings called me. She was angry that he had broken off whatever arrangement they had. I had my suspicions that he was sleeping around but had not confronted them until now. In the back of that taxicab, his actions slapped me hard. The woman on the other end of the phone was hysterical, and something inside me told me that I was not going to play the victim, that I would handle this on my terms. I told the woman on the phone, “that’s what happens when you sleep with a married man. Never call me again,” and hung up the phone. When I got back to the hotel, I walked up to my room and changed into clothes to go out, like I was on autopilot. That night I got blindingly drunk and took some random man back to my room. Honestly, I don’t even remember his name. The next morning, with the worst hangover of my life, I kept waiting for the feeling of guilt, but it wasn’t there. I didn’t run home and tell Ken what I had done, I kept it to myself.

From that night on, when I wanted company, I found it, and although Ken and I never discussed it directly, I felt that he understood and was relieved. When Ken and I both happened to be home at the same time, it now took pressure off of both of us. My actions were like a relief valve on a pressure cooker between us, it just worked. After my first night in Prague, I did set some ground rules which I had never broken until recently.

Rule # 1: I never used my real name.

Rule # 2: We always got a room. I didn’t bring men back to the hotel where I was staying, nor did I go to their place.

Rule # 3: The guy had to be a local

Rule # 4: No contact information, exchanging of phone numbers, emails etc.

Rule # 5: Never sleep with the same guy twice no matter how good the sex was.

Paolo had not just caused me to break my own rules but smash them entirely. I met him one night in Seattle out at a bar. I was there on business and he was too. We struck up a conversation at the bar. He was in town for a musician’s conference and expo. He made bespoke guitars out of his loft on the West side of Chicago, the same city where I lived. Rule #1- broken. He had this indie rocker vibe going on, the night we met, with his chocolate brown hair resting on his shoulders, and a wool beanie on his head. He wore a beard, thick, and normally that was turn off for me, but that night it was working. The first night we slept together I made a mistake and broke my second rule, we went back to my room. When we got in, I popped into the bathroom to freshen up and didn’t think anything of it. Paolo spotted my papers that I had left out on the desk, seeing my real name, Katie Morgan, not Jenny Anderson, my fake name. This was rule #3 broken. That first night with Paolo I didn’t know it was possible to feel that much pleasure. It was the best sex of my life. The next morning when I woke Paolo was gone but he had left his card on top of my papers on the desk in the room. I went on with life, often thinking about him and that night, wondering if it had been my imagination or if the sex had really been that good. I wanted to see him again and challenge my own perceptions of that night. Ken had a birthday coming up and had always dabbled with the guitar. I decided to buy him a new bespoke guitar and I knew who to buy it from. I called Paolo to see about ordering a guitar for Ken and was surprised when he remembered me. We arranged a time when I could come to the warehouse and pick out the elements for Ken’s birthday gift.

Two weeks later I drove over to the warehouse on the west side of the city. It didn’t look like much from the outside. I knocked on the nondescript green metal door, hoping that someone would hear me. I had butterflies in my stomach the entire drive over. I knew this was a bad idea but I had not been able to help myself. The door jerked open and there Paolo stood in the daylight, in the same city I lived in, knowing my actual name, and he was just as handsome as he was the on the night we had met. He smiled as he invited me in. The warehouse smelled of wood, as various workstations had been abandoned for a lunch break. There were numerous guitars in various states of construction. Paolo showed me around the shop floor. I noticed his hands, how he moved, it all felt like a mating dance. I picked out the materials for Ken’s guitar, feeling the whole scene was surreal, as he backed me up against the brick wall in the shop. We barely made it to his office before we were ripping clothes off of each other. He fucked me on his desk, it was the most erotic moment of my life.

Sleeping with Paolo soon became a regular occurrence when I was home, and that unnerved me. I only stepped out of my marriage while travelling, and when the need arose, not at home in the city I lived with my husband. Paolo could do things to my body that I didn’t even know it could do, and I found myself addicted to his touch. I felt untethered to reality when I was with him like I wasn’t in control of anything, and that scared me. One night as we lay in his bed, in his apartment in the top floor of the warehouse, I mentioned that I had to go to London for work for the next two weeks and that it would be a while before I could see him again. It was my way of putting some distance between us, this arrangement was turning into something else quickly and it unnerved me.

Two days after I arrived in London, on a Friday night, I came back to the hotel to find Paolo standing out front. Seeing him there scared me. I kept my feelings to myself. We did not leave the room for the entire weekend, neither of us able to satisfy the need for each other’s bodies long enough to consider leaving. That Monday, when I went off to work, as I walked down the wet sidewalk, I knew I was in trouble with Paolo. This felt like an affair, not something transactional, satisfying a need. I knew I needed to end it. I told myself when I got back to the hotel that evening I would. That night I fell into bed with him again and didn’t end it.

We flew back home to Chicago early, due to the virus that was spreading, as there was a rumor that the borders would be closed. As we sat on the flight together, and it was clear to me that he had fallen in love with me. I had feelings for him too but mine did not match. I still loved my husband and had made very clear from the beginning of the tryst that I was married and had no intention of leaving my husband. I went back to the warehouse with Paolo that night and ended things, I had to, the situation was swallowing me up whole.

The next week was a blur, with quarantine lockdown coming into effect. Ken and I both had our jobs move from out in the world to inside our own home. Our three school-aged sons were home too. I found it odd how easily I slid into the life of devoted mother and wife, but I felt like a fraud. Paolo had called and texted begging me to come back to him. I knew as I looked at my phone buzzing on the edge of the counter, it was him calling. I transferred the hot chocolate chip cookies off of the baking tray onto a cooling rack trying to ignore the call. I felt a pang of guilt to cut him out of my life so swiftly, as I sent the call to voicemail.

That evening as I made dinner my phone rang and rang. I eventually had to turn it off, as I made dinner. Ken and I watched a movie after we put the kids to bed. I poured myself another glass of wine as Ken announced he was going upstairs to bed. It wasn’t until the house was quiet that I was brave enough to turn my phone back on. I sipped my wine as I listened to Paolo’s voicemails. His voice was raspy as he said he had come down with a cold. He professed his love for me over and over again. I was so tempted to text him, I felt terrible, I had not intended for things to get so complicated. I stared down at my phone, taking one last drink of the wine in my glass. I typed, “I’m sorry.” I stared at it trying to think through what my actions would cause. I had unintentionally done enough damage. I erased my text and went up to bed.

That night I slept poorly. I dreamt of Paolo and me together. I was happy in my dream. I woke the next morning feeling unrested and conflicted. I dug into my work for the day, as Paolo kept calling. I found that part of me wanted to pick up the phone and talk to him, to make it right, but deep down I knew I couldn’t. I wasn’t going to leave Ken. I loved my husband and had always made that clear. The whole world seemed so surreal, with everyone at home, sheltering in place from the virus, and me going through a breakup. I debated whether or not to tell Ken. We had the sort of marriage where I knew I could tell him anything, but during a quarantine was not the best timing I thought to myself. Over the next two weeks, the Paolo stopped calling and I was relieved.

I was making dinner one evening about a month later, watching the kids play in the back yard through the kitchen window when Ken came in. He came up next to me and kissed me on the cheek, putting his arms around me. It felt wonderful, right, to be in my husband’s arms. I stirred the chilli and I hugged his arms across my chest. I could hear our children laughing out in the back yard. There was something in Ken’s body language that was off. I took the spoon out of the chilli and set it on the spoon rest as I turned around. Ken walked over to the small bar in the family room and poured us each a drink. He brought the two glasses over and set them on the kitchen table.

“We need to talk,” he said.

My stomach sank, as I knew Paolo had to have contacted my husband. I tried not to tremble as I walked across the kitchen and sat down next to him. He slid my glass over to me.

“I have something I need to tell you and I am not sure how you’re going to react.”

I stared at him blankly, trying to give him my bed poker face.

“Paolo passed away.”

I sat there still, unsure how to react.

“His family asked that you get this letter he wrote to you,” Ken said as he took it out of his back pocket and slid it across the table.

My hand shook as I reached out for it.

“Did you read it,” I asked as my voice cracked.

“No, but I did know about him, that you two had a fling.”

“You knew?”

“Yes, one of the kids scratched the guitar you gave me. I took it back to him to have it fixed. I walked into his office and it smelled like you, your perfume was still in the air. I asked him outright, if he was sleeping with you. He didn’t hide from it, he answered that he was and that he was in love with you.”

Ken took a sip of his whiskey.

“I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure if you felt the same for him.”

“I didn’t. I’m sorry, this mess is my fault. What happened?”

“He died from the virus.”

I felt the tears on my cheeks before I even realized I was crying.

“Did you love him?”

“N..no, not like I love you.”

“He called me a few weeks back when you got back from London and told me he was going to ask you to marry him.”

“What? No, he never asked, I wouldn’t have let him. Why didn’t you say anything to me about this?”

“I wanted you to be free to make your own decision. I love you but I wasn’t going to make you stay with me.”

I picked up my glass that he had set in front of me and drank the whole pour in one massive gulp.

“Do you want to stay with me?”

“Katie I love you and I am not going anywhere. This time together with all of us home and put things in a different light. I am not going to sit here and pretend to be the model husband. I know you know about my own infidelity. It just seemed when things were so busy that it was just the way things needed to be. I realize now, being together like this, that maybe it isn’t worth it, this life we’ve chosen.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I want you, all of you. I want us to be together. I want to reevaluate things. What are we doing? We’re never here for our kids, each other… What so we can have a membership to the country club we never go to? I want things to change, this time has given us a glimpse of what life can be like if we choose it.”

I sat silently as I wondered when our priorities had changed so drastically.

“Will you read the letter, I don’t think I can?”

I slid it back across the table, and Ken picked it up. I watched him open the envelope and he unfolded the letter. I scanned his face for any emotion as he read it. He finished reading and folded putting it back into the envelope.

“He saw what an amazing person you are too. He really loved you.”

I wiped the tears from my cheeks, as Ken put his and over my hand that rested on the table. Our kids burst through the back door and ran through the kitchen as our son, Trevor stopped, noticing I was crying.

“What’s wrong with mom,” he asked?

“A friend of her’s passed away. Go play.”

“I’m sorry about your friend mom,” he said as he walked out of the kitchen after his brothers.

I stood up and Ken rose too. I wrapped my hands around him and there was a split second where I wondered if he’d reciprocate, when he did, I was filled with relief. He kissed the top of my head.

“Let’s change some things. You’re right, this isn’t the life either of us willingly signed up for. We’ve been walking these paths in our careers not looking at the true cost. I want to fix this. You are the most amazing man, I’ve ever met. How you can stand here holding me right now after all of this…”

“I love you Katie.”

“I love you too.”

“Stary, start night,” he sang to me softly in the darkness of my bedroom that had become our bedroom. 

I hated that I needed him this much, but the truth was I did. His voice soft and gentle, soothed my ragged nerves. Six months ago, my whole life was different; the child moving inside of me reminded me of that. She loved the noise of her father’s voice. Six months ago, I was celebrating the biggest promotion of my career. At this rate, I thought I’d make partner before forty, a firm record. Work was my life. What was the most incredible one night stand of my life, followed by a whole weekend in bed with the man now lying next to me changed my entire life. 

I found out I was pregnant as I rode the elevator up to my office. Someone had on a strong perfume, and the smell of it made me sick to my stomach. I fled from the elevator as it reached my floor in search of the bathroom. My best friend Hattie called it as we awaited the results of the pregnancy test I had bought on my lunch break. She had come home with me, eager to see if her hunch had been correct, that evening, I chewed at a dry cuticle on my index finger as the hourglass in the digital text blinked. Then, my life changed as the test said, pregnant. I quickly ripped open a second test, which produced the same result. It’s impossible I kept saying again and again, almost in a trance. Hattie reassured me all would be okay before she left that night. 

I couldn’t have children, or at least that’s what my gynecologist had told me. Something having to do with the angle of my uterus. The only person I had been with was Adam, that wild weekend, and then a few days later. The whole ordeal had been wonderful, but I didn’t have the time for a relationship, and neither did he. Our arrangement suited both of us well; it was casual, just sex. We had always been careful, he had used protection, and I thought I couldn’t get pregnant, so I did not bother with birth control. 

I walked out of my gynecologist’s office with a confirmation that the test was positive. I had been seeing her since my early twenties; I was now in my mid-thirties. She was just as surprised as I was that I had conceived. After my exam, I dressed and walked into her office, where I sat across the desk. 

“Hailey, I know you mentioned that this was not planned. I just want to say, the fact that you’re pregnant is a miracle. Please think about your choices. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention this. My medical opinion was that you’d never be able to conceive.”

“What are you saying,” I asked?

“You may not have this chance again. I am not telling you this to influence your decision one way or another. I would not be upholding my oath to you if I didn’t.”

I thanked her and took my prescription for prenatal vitamins. I knew what she meant about choices, not that I had discussed it with her. I left the office, knowing that she was right. I knew I wanted kids someday; I just didn’t think it’d be now. 

Two weeks passed, and I knew what I wanted. I just had to call Adam and pray he wouldn’t react too badly. My hands shook as I dialed his cell phone. I wondered where in the world, he was as I listened to his phone ring and a foreign tone. 

“Hi Hailey, he said in a cheery voice.”

“Hi, where are you? The ring is different.”

“I’m in Beijing. I’m actually getting ready to board a flight home. The virus is really taking hold here, so my company is recalling everyone home. I’m not normally very jumpy, but this illness makes me a little nervous.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I can’t really talk about it right now.”

I understood the undertone of what he meant; he couldn’t discuss it publicly in a communist country. 

“Anyway, how are you?” He asked. 

“I thought you were boarding a flight, do you need me to let you go?”

“No, I’ve got about a half-hour before I’ll go down and board. I’m in the lounge. Its practically empty. Everyone has been leaving for days. Guess I’m at the tail end.”

“Ah, well, I have some news,” I paused as I took a deep breath. I felt like my heart was going to leap out of my mouth it was pounding so hard. I couldn’t form the words, only bits of sound came out, that did not even resemble words.

“Are you alright?”

I felt the tears well and swallowed hard. Just tell him, my inner monologue screamed. 

“I’m pregnant.” I blurted out.

The other side of the line was silent, too silent.

“Adam are you there,” I asked softly.

“Wow, okay. Are you sure? Have you been to the doctor?”

“I have. I’m about ten weeks along. I haven’t known for long. I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner, I just needed some time to think. The baby is yours. I’m keeping it. I just wanted to say that I didn’t plan this, and I was as shocked as you are now. I mean we used protection. I…”

“Hailey,” Adam said calmly.

I stopped talking.

“Can I come to see you when I get back home?”

“Of course. I know this is a lot. I’ll give you some space and some time to process.”

“Thanks”

“Come by, and we can talk once you get in and get settled.”

“Sounds good. Get some rest; I’ll be home tomorrow. We can talk about this weekend.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Adam said as he hung up the phone. 

The call had ended more abruptly than I had expected, but the fact that he hadn’t shouted was a relief. I didn’t think he’d be the sort to do something like that, but in all honestly, I really didn’t know him. 

The next day I slept in, early pregnancy exhaustion had set in, and I found it difficult to do much of anything aside from sleep. I was woken by the noise of my doorbell. I stumbled half-awake in a pair of sweatpants and U of C. T-shirt, a real vision. I couldn’t be bothered to do better, whoever was at the door could fuck off, I wanted to go back to bed. I opened the door, and Adam stood on my doorstep with at least three dozen long-stem pink roses. I stood there, my mouth literally aghast. His luggage stood at his feet; he had just come from the airport. 

“Hello, sleepyhead,” he said softly.

“Hi,” I replied, not completely awake and comprehending him standing in front of me. “I thought you were coming by this weekend.”

“Is it a bad time?”

“No. I just wasn’t expecting you. Come in.”

I moved out of the way as he handed me the roses. They smelled lovely. He grabbed his luggage and stepped inside the entryway to my townhouse. I brought the roses to my nose and inhaled deeply. They were gorgeous. 

“These are lovely. Thank you. Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Adam followed me into the kitchen as I set the roses in the sink and started making coffee.

“How was your flight,” I asked, trying to make conversation, and break the tension a bit.

“Relatively empty. Have you seen the news this morning? All travel between here and China has ceased. The U.S. closed the border. This virus is going to be a bigger deal than the U.S. media is letting on.”

“That’s crazy; I hadn’t heard. Do you think there will be an outbreak here?”

“I do, but let’s talk about that later. I flight from China gives a man a lot of time to think. I’ve given this a lot of thought. I was married years ago in my twenties, we wanted it all, the family, minivan, white picket fence, all of that. When we divorced, I decided I didn’t really want that, and I never went in search of it again.”

I slid a cup of coffee across the island, along with the sugar bowl and a small pitcher of milk. He took it and took a sip, drinking it black. He set it back down on the counter and continued.

“I’m almost fifty. I didn’t think I would have the chance to be someone’s father, and I was okay with that until yesterday. When you called me yesterday, something changed. I know it sounds cliche but its true. I want to be a part of this if you’ll let me?”

“Of course, this is your child too. I am relieved that you want a relationship with our child. I want you to know I don’t want anything from you; I can provide for this child.”

I put my hand over my slightly swollen abdomen, which looked like I had overindulged at the taco bar, instead of growing a child. 

“Well, you have whatever the two of you need from me. All you ever need to do is ask. Where does that leave you and me?”

“Oh, well, I’m not sure. Friends, I guess, I don’t see why anything needs to change between us. I did not expect you to show up here with a ring. In fact, I am so glad you didn’t. I think a baby is enough of a life change right now, don’t you?”

I watched his posture change as he took another sip of his coffee. It almost looked like disappointment if I had to guess. 

Adam finished his coffee and headed home. I promised him we could talk more after he had settled in and was more well-rested.

Over the next three weeks, the world seemed to fall apart. Adam had been right; the virus had taken hold in the U.S. Our offices closed, and I was now working from home. I had stocked up the best that I could living in the city and planned to hunker down. Adam had called a few times to check on the baby and me, and I told him all was well. It felt like the whole world was going to hunker down and ride this out. 

That Tuesday morning, as I sat in on our weekly staff meeting, now held virtually, I had to step away. Someone was knocking loudly on my door. I excused myself as politely as I could, wondering who the hell would knock like that. I stormed to the door to give the inconsiderate asshole who was knocking a piece of my mind. I grabbed the knob and yanked the door open. Adam stood on my porch with two suitcases and several boxes.

“What the hell?”

“Hi,” he replied.

“What are you doing? Why are you here?”

“I came to stay for the quarantine. I didn’t want to leave you two to fend for yourselves. I brought groceries too.”

“What? No. We’re fine. Thank you, but really, no thank you.”

“Hailey, please. Things are going to get worse, and if you don’t let me stay for you, please let me stay for me.”

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me felt that it was incredibly sweet, while the other half of me was annoyed. He had mentioned the idea of staying with me last week over the phone, and I had shot him down.

“What about your house? Aren’t you afraid someone will rob you if things are going to get as bad as you say?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He walked forward, and I stepped out of the way to let him in. 

“I’m not moving in permanently. I would sleep better at night knowing you two are safe. You have my word that I’ll go home when the stay at home order is lifted. Please?”

I took a deep breath, “all right then,” I relented. 

Adam stayed three nights in the guest room before he joined me in my bed. I found that I actually liked having him around and we settled into a routine, we both worked during the day from different parts of the house and then usually one of us would cook dinner. We spent our evenings watching tv, reading, and playing card games or Scrabble. The more time we spent together, the more it felt like a little family, and as welcoming as it was, there was a part of me that felt uneasy about it. 

As the quarantine dragged on, I knew eventually our arrangement would end. I knew we were just playing house, but it felt natural. I continuously reminded myself that I intended to raise this child alone. The days passed and found myself becoming more anxious. I wasn’t sure if it was the thought of Adam leaving, of life, returning to normal, or just the nightly news. At first it was manageable, but I soon found myself waking in the night. One night I woke, and Adam sensing that I wasn’t sleeping snuggled up next to me. He wrapped his hands around me, and he started to hum the tune to the song, Starry Starry Night. I couldn’t help but laugh. 

The last night of quarantine, I sat outside on my back deck and sipped a cup of mint tea to quell the nausea that had stuck with me through the pregnancy. I tried not to show my sadness that Adam would be moving back home tomorrow. I wanted him to stay, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him. Although it was now May, the temperature outside was still chilly, and I had wrapped a blanket around me as I sipped my tea. The sun had begun to set, and I had not started dinner yet. Adam had a call that went long, so I had decided to wait. As I sat there and thought about him leaving, it dawned on me that I had fallen in love with him over the past ten weeks we had lived together. Even if I weren’t carrying his child, I would’ve still enjoyed our time together, he was kind, thoughtful, and fun to be with. The more I thought about it the more upset I became. I had made one hell of a mess, I felt, and I did’ t know how to fix it. “Just tell him the truth,” my inner voice told me. I dismissed it angrily, but my mind continued to think what to do. I stood up, setting my mug down on the table next to me. I had nothing to loose, asking him to stay. I turned to walk into the house and saw Adam standing in the doorway. He startled me.

“You know, I was thinking,” he said as he leaned up against the doorjamb, “what if I didn’t leave tomorrow?”

My bottom lip quivered, and I bit it hard to keep from crying. 

“What if this was home now, with you and our daughter?”

He stepped out onto the deck, and I stood there, and he walked towards me.

“Hailey, what do you think?”

“Marry me,” I blurted out.

“Hey, that’s my line,” he joked.

“What?”

“I was coming out here to ask you to marry me.”

“You were?”

I couldn’t help but cry, and Adam took me into his arms.

“These past ten weeks have been a gift for us. It gave us time to really get to know each other. It gave me time to reinforce my original impressions of you.”

“Which were?”

“That I was going to marry you. For the record, I thought that before this peanut came along,” he said as he rubbed my stomach. “So, what do you say? Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes,” I blubbered as I buried my head in his neck.

He pulled me closer to him, as our daughter moved between us.