“But people are still being infected—and dying—at an alarming rate.”
“This disease has divided the nation,” she said, shaking her head in sorrow. “There’s the group that believes the threat is real, and the group that believes it’s nothing more than the common flu. My brother has lost lifelong friends over his support of our governor’s position. It’s sad, really.”
“So, where’s the grain of good in this?” I asked.
“Honey.” She leaned against her broom handle. Her mouth curled into a shallow grin. “Your grain weighs 200 pounds, and his name is Braxton. Enjoy the time you have with him while you’re able.”
“I am,” I replied. “I just. I want to live a real life with him. Not one where we’re forced to be in the house together.”
“If it were the way it used to be, he’d be coming and going at an alarming rate,” she argued. “His absence would have nothing to do with his love for you. It would be business as usual.” Her brows raised. “Is that what you want?”
“I suppose not.”
“We’re all frustrated, sweetheart.” She leaned the broom against the porch and gave me a hug. “It’s hard, I know. One day, this too, shall pass.”
She leaned away and looked me in the eyes. “Any time you want to talk, I’m here. It doesn’t have to be at four o’clock.”
“I like our little routine,” I replied.
She smiled. “I do, too.”
“Maybe I need to find something to do with my spare time. I’ve got a lot of it when Braxton and Hap are exercising. I run on Braxton’s treadmill for 30 minutes, but those two exercise for hours.”
“There’s always things you could be doing,” she said. “I used to crochet.”
Crocheting would be a natural sedative. In no time I’d be face-down on the couch with a needle in my hand, slobbering on my bicep.
“I don’t think that’s for me,” I said.
“Write a book. Maybe talking about your frustrations might do you some good.”
I let out a sigh of frustration. “I can’t write a book.”
She scowled playfully. “You could if you wanted to.”
Since our Instagram story about the donations, I’d gained a few hundred thousand followers. Instagram wasn’t known for its inspirational posts, but maybe I could start writing something every day in a post. Something that would lift people’s spirits.
“I might do some writing,” I said. “Not a book, but something.”
“I think that’ll do you some good.”
“I think it will, too,” I admitted. “I’m just ready for this to end.”
“We’re all ready, sweetheart.”
Not knowing what else to say, but unwilling to cut my visitation short, I looked around. Hap was at the end of the hill, decompressing from his 3-mile run with a brisk walk. I looked at Marge.
“I know I love Braxton, and I’m sure he loves me, but I want to make sure everything’s happening for all the right reasons.”
“I’m sure you’re just gun shy,” she said. “Every relationship you’ve had has ended because of infidelity. It makes sense you’d be apprehensive. If it helps, I’ve never known Braxton to be in a relationship other than his marriage, and that was a long, long time ago. The fact that he’s in one with you means something’s changed inside of him.”
“Did you see the movie The Breakfast Club?” I asked.
“Sweetheart, I don’t think so,” she replied. “It sure doesn’t sound familiar.”
“There were five high school kids who were all given detention at the same time,” I explained. “There was a criminal, an athlete, a prom queen, a nerd, and a manically depressed girl. Needless to say, they weren’t remotely close to one another when they started their little venture. But in the end, they were all, like, best friends. They ended up liking each other because they were locked up together for 9 hours in the lunchroom. If they were left to their own devices, they would have never met, and they certainly wouldn’t have become friends.”
“What brings a couple together is of little value,” she said without giving the matter much time for thought. “The common ground that’s shared between them becomes the glue that holds them together.”
“That’s a concern.” I lowered my head. “We haven’t been able to explore each other’s likes and dislikes much because we’ve been confined to the house.”
“Sweetheart, you’re worrying about what hasn’t happened instead of being grateful for what has.” She lifted my head with her weathered hand. “Keep your chin up.”
I smiled. The world’s voice of reason came from the elderly. Their time on earth allowed them to give advice based on experience, not opinion. She was right. I needed to appreciate what I had instead of grieving over what I didn’t.
“Thank you,” I said.
She nodded toward my house. Her face wore a look of sheer satisfaction. “How long is he staying?”
I glanced over my shoulder. Dressed in a pair of gray shorts, a white tee shirt, and running shoes, Hap was stretching his arms over his head.
“Oh. I’m not sure.” I chuckled. “Until he pisses Braxton off, I’m sure. I like having him around. He reminds me of my dad.”
She waved her hand toward Braxton’s house. “Why don’t you run along, sweetheart. I’m going to see if that poor soul needs a glass of tea. He looks dehydrated.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said with a laugh. “I’m going to see if Braxton and I have any common ground.”
“I’m going to do the same thing,” she said. “With him.”
Braxton
The drive along the Pacific Coast Highway was one of the most scenic drives in the United States. With time on our hands, we voted to drive north, turn around, and then drive all the way from San Francisco to San Diego, along the coast.
With most of the state’s businesses still shut down, traffic was nearly non-existent. The 12-hour drive was reduced to just over 7 hours. It allowed us to make the drive without worrying about taking the time to see a few of the sights.
Starting from the Golden Gate Park, we began the journey. It was the first time Anna had seen the Golden Gate Bridge. She cried tears of joy upon seeing it, but it seemed lately that nearly everything made her cry.
Monterey was our next stop, with Monterey Bay and Point Lobos State National Reserve being the major points of interest. I stared at the highway ahead in disbelief of the open road. It was something I’d never seen in Southern California.
“Now that the state is declining on death count and infections, it won’t be long before this highway is packed again,” I said. “We better enjoy this while we can. One of these day’s it’s going to be bumper to bumper traffic again.”
Anna peered beyond the rock cliffs, toward the vast sea of indigo blue. “Now I know why people move to California. This is completely different than Sherman Oaks.”
“It sure as fuck is,” Hap agreed. “This is God’s country.”