Watching an episode or two of Lucifer with Patrick after the governor’s update has become a nightly ritual, and we usually end up talking afterward. When I invited him to stay, I knew it was a risk. He could’ve turned out to be a total asshole or even dangerous, but I’m happy I made the right decision. Patrick is quiet most of the time, but he’s also funny and fun to be around.
I’ve found a yoga instructor who streams daily workouts and I’ve been doing those in the evening, but I’m eager to get out and take a walk or jog. First is a trip to pick up groceries. Our milk and a few other items are past their expiration dates. In such a small town, the local store doesn’t deliver, but they do have a no contact pickup option on their app.
It’s early afternoon when I leave the house for the first time to get groceries. It feels so good to be out, but I also know it’s going to be brief. I’m not infected and that’s a relief, but it wasn’t the only reason we were quarantined. Everyone is supposed to be avoiding people now.
That fact is apparent when I pull off the winding road onto the highway. The highway was busy with cars when I drove here two weeks ago. One lone car rattles by me, taking the first exit, and there isn’t another in sight.
It’s eerie, and it doesn’t get much better when I get to the downtown area. Granted, this is a small town, with a population of around twenty thousand, but the vacant streets aren’t normal for any town. Signs hang on the doors of nearly every business, announcing that they’re closed, most temporarily, but I’m sad to see a closed permanently sign as well.
The grocery and retail stores lie on the other side of the downtown area and are more populated. Two pharmacies both display drive thru only signs, as do the fast food restaurants. A line stretches across the parking lot of the grocery store where people wait six feet apart from one another to get inside. It’s surreal.
Once I locate the area where I’m supposed to park for pickup, I have to wait for a few minutes to get a spot. Once it’s my turn, I call to let them know I’ve arrived, and hit the button to open the trunk. A woman wearing a mask and gloves wheels out a cart, transfers my bags to the trunk, waves, and goes back inside.
Not one word spoken. It’s the strangest shopping trip I’ve ever been on.
Once I arrive back at the house and get the bags carried in, I start wiping down the containers with antibacterial wipes. Though the suggestion to do that was in the guidelines put out by the CDC and government, I still feel ridiculous when Patrick walks in to see me disinfecting a gallon of milk.
“I know we probably wouldn’t catch it this way, but—”
“Better to be safe,” he says, and grabs a wipe to do the same.
“It’s so odd out there right now. Empty and just…different.” We’ve been shut away and other than catching the updates from the governor, I’ve been avoiding most news and social media. Seeing how things have changed so quickly has made this feel real in a way it hasn’t until now.
Patrick glances at me from across the kitchen. “Are you okay?”
His question catches me off guard. Damn. My anxiety must be showing. “Sure, I’m fine. They had everything we ordered except for oranges.”
If he doubts my cheerful tone, or notices the change of subject, he doesn’t call me out on it. He washes an apple and sits at the table to eat it. “I’m supposed to do a livestream and play a few songs to raise money for a couple of charities. The first one is tomorrow.”
“That’s a good idea. Where are you going to set up?”
“The room I’ve been using to play should work. I just need to be able to get the keyboard in the shot and have room to move from it to the guitar.” His grin is sheepish. “It’ll be weird playing to no audience.”
“Do you want me to sit in and applaud?” I tease.
A smile darts across his face. “I’d love to have some company.”
“I don’t mind helping if you need someone to hold the camera or whatever.” The people watching wouldn’t know I was there, and it’d be a fun thing to be a part of. “Are there other musicians joining?” I grab a peach and sit down across from him.
“Not joining in with me but playing before and after. It’s going to stream on social media and video sites.” He starts rattling off a few other singers and bands, but I interrupt when he gets to one.
“Solar Dust? Really?”
His eyebrow rises. “They’re on an hour before I am. Are they a favorite of yours?”
I try my hardest and do my best not to freak out, but it’s a lost cause. “I love their last album. Have you played with them?” Before he can answer, I suck in a breath at a thought. “Do you know Logan Adams?”
His amusement is clear on his face when he sits back in the chair, draping one leg over the other. “Why, do you want an autograph? I seem to remember you saying you don’t get starstruck.”
“I didn’t say I wanted an autograph!”
“Uh-huh.” His teasing smile is infuriating.
“I just thought you may have performed with him or something.”
“I haven’t performed with him, but we’ve met a few times. Solar Dust is on the same label.”
“Mmm, interesting.” He laughs at my poor attempt to appear unfazed.
“I’m going to rehearse. If you wouldn’t mind helping me tomorrow, I’m not familiar with streaming live on social media.”
“Neither am I, but I’m sure we can figure it out.”
Patrick spends the rest of the day in the music room while I find myself playing around on my phone. I find the social media account that will be streaming the live performances and wow, the lineup is impressive. Patrick is right, Logan Adams is included, but Axton Todd seems to be the big draw, the one they’re hyping the most.
A little more internet investigation shows me that Axton and Patrick are friends, at least the pictures that come up of them make it seem so. Patrick apparently opened for Axton’s band, Tragic, a couple of years ago.
While I’m scrolling through, an article pops up about the pandemic, how fast it’s spreading, and how deadly it is, far more so than the early reports led us to believe. I click it, and for the next few hours, fall down a hole I’m finding it harder and harder to climb out of.
It doesn’t help me sleep, that’s for sure, and the next day, when it’s nearing time for Patrick’s live session, I guzzle a cup of coffee to shake myself awake.
“This piece of shit. Yeah, I know, let me call you back.” His cursing can be heard throughout the house. It takes him a few minutes to notice me in his doorway as he walks around the room, holding up his phone and mumbling obscenities.
“What’s wrong?”
“I have a little over an hour before I’m on and my phone has decided not to pick up a WiFi or cell signal in this room.”
A glance at my phone shows me full bars. “You can use mine. I didn’t drop an extra three hundred dollars for a fancy fruit logo,” I tease. His frown struggles to remain when I take the screen lock off of my phone and hand it to him. “Just sign into your social media.”
After he does that, he grins up at me. “Strong signal. Thanks.” He gestures to his phone now sitting on the table. “Use mine if you want.”