Day One

by Lauren Runow

Once all the important stuff is out of the way, I give each student a few minutes to talk about what they’re doing at home and to share anything they want.

  I listen as they tell me about shows they’re watching and things they’re doing to stay busy.

  When I get to Nick, he’s eager to ask me, “Ms. Witzel, do you know Andrew Miller?”

  I think about the name Andrew and shake my head. “It doesn’t ring a bell. Why?”

  He frowns. “He’s the new guy they just signed to the San Francisco Giants. He made a YouTube video, going over tips for kids on how to stay in shape for baseball at home and how to keep practicing when they have no one to practice with. In the video, he said he got the idea from a teacher who made a video of a rapping King Tut, so I thought that was you. I know his parents live here and—”

  My eyes widen, and my face flushes when what he said sinks in. Then, the name Andrew—Drew—clicks in my head.

  Oh. My. God.

  “Did you say San Francisco Giants? As in the San Francisco Giants baseball team?”

  Memories of him wearing a jersey the other day and making a joke by tying it to the movie Field of Dreams flash through my mind.

  Was that his actual jersey?

  “Yeah,” Nick says. “I can’t believe there are other teachers who would rap about King Tut because, come on, Ms. Witzel, that was a little”—he makes the international sign for crazy by circling his ear with his finger—“cuckoo.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” a few kids chime in to defend me.

  I laugh. “Well, I’m sorry you didn’t like my very cool song, but I’ll look into this other teacher who’s rapping to my tunes.” I make a fake angry face while I’m internally freaking out.

  We end our Zoom, and I’m quick to do an internet search for this Andrew Miller guy. Multiple results pop up, and I read all about the golden boy who shone during spring training and was finally making his way up to the major leagues after being in the minors for five years.

  I click on a photo, and on my screen is the face of the guy I’ve come to know as Drew.

  I’ve thought about calling him all day, but I still haven’t. What would I say? Hey, are you the baseball player who just signed a nine-million-dollar contract?

  Ugh!

  All I can think about is, Why didn’t he tell me?

  But then, when I think back to our conversations, he was stating it without actually saying it. He talked about moving a lot, how he’d just signed on—shit, he even showed me a picture of himself in his jersey! How was I supposed to know that was his actual jersey with his name written across the back instead of Posey or Crawford?

  Does he assume I know who he is? Is he one of those guys who has this huge ego and thinks that everyone should automatically recognize him?

  I’m so confused.

  And this is why I’ve fought all day not to call him, instead waiting to see if he calls me.

  When my phone rings at nine o’clock that night, I’ve gone through all the emotions, and really, I’m over it, so I answer the phone call, making sure he knows that I know.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I say instead of the normal hello.

  I can hear his nervous laugh over the line and the fact that he is totally caught off guard when he replies, “Uh, tell you what?”

  “Who you are. I mean, who you really are.” The line is silent. “Did you assume I already knew?”

  “No.”

  With how fast he responded, I believe him. I calm down slightly, knowing I’m being a little overdramatic. “Then, why didn’t you tell me?”

  He lets out a breath. “Do you know how hard it is to meet someone—I mean, genuinely meet someone—when they know you’re a baseball player?”

  I sigh. “Okay, go on.”

  “I take it, you Googled me.”

  A hard laugh escapes my lips. “Uh, yeah, I totally did.”

  “So, imagine if everyone knew your net worth. Like, overnight, you went from making four hundred dollars a week to signing a contract worth millions of dollars.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “You’d be surprised at how many people have come out of the woodwork to be my friend again. Especially girls.” He sighs. “The past few months have been a whirlwind. They all knew it was coming. News stations were covering me left and right. It’s a little overwhelming is all.”

  My shoulders slump, and I feel bad for questioning him or for even being mad at him for not telling me.

  “I wanted to see if I could get to know someone for me, not because of the contract I signed.”

  “I’m sorry. I understand now.”

  “Do you forgive me?” he asks in his sweet voice.

  “It’s more like, do you forgive me? I shouldn’t have asked you like that. It’s just that one of my students saw your video—”

  He laughs out loud. “So, they mentioned I got the idea from yours?”

  “Yes!” I whine out. “He asked if I knew you, but he called you Andrew, so I was thrown off until he mentioned the video. Why does your profile say Drew?”

  “Is it bad that I was purposely trying to pull away from Andrew, the new San Francisco Giants first baseman, and just be Drew, the guy still chasing after his dreams?”

  I grin from ear to ear. “So, what do you prefer to be called?”

  “Honestly, my friends call me Drew, but Andrew is okay too.”

  “Then, are we friends?” I ask coyly.

  “I’m hoping we’re more than friends.”

  Yes. Me too, Drew. Me too.

  5

  Day 5

  March 31

  Last night, Drew and I stayed on the phone until one in the morning. We talked about everything yet nothing at all. I felt like I was a teenager again, sneaking around to hide from my parents and talking to the boy I liked from school.

  Thank God I don’t have to get ready for work today, or I would be a mess. Hmm. This is the first time I’ve thought it is a good thing that I’m stuck at home.

  I ventured out to get groceries this morning, and holy hell, the line to get into Costco was insane. I guess it’s because they’re limiting the amount of people in the stores rather than having too many people all together, but all I can say is, wow!

  After scrubbing my hands with soap I have outside so I can clean myself of any germs with the hose and not risk bringing anything into my house, I grab my groceries and place them on the counter.

  Memories of the employee loading my stuff into my cart crosses my mind, and I mentally panic. Grabbing a Clorox wipe, I clean off every box and can before putting them on my shelves. A little much? Probably, but I do not want to get this.

  Once everything is put away, I hop in the shower, questioning for a second if I should burn the clothes I had on but deciding I shouldn’t be that much of a worrywart about it. My county only has forty-nine cases, so yes, I should be cautious, but I’m not absolutely freaking out—yet.

  If I were in New York City, I would be losing my ever-loving mind, never leaving the house and foraging for food like a squirrel in my backyard.

  Wait, does New York even have squirrels like we do here? I shake my head. Of course they do, just maybe not where I could afford to live in the concrete jungle.

  I’d be screwed.

  After my shower and pulling my hair up into my hairdo of the pandemic—a messy bun—I head downstairs to search through all the stuff I just bought, being thankful I’m not a squirrel.

  When my phone goes off, I don’t even look to see who it is when I answer, saying, “Hello?” after I take a big bite of a banana.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?” Drew says, all drawn out and slow.

  I chew faster, saying, “Hold on,” and then swallow. “Sorry, I took a bite of a banana right as you called.”

  “Thinking of me, were you?” He laughs.

  “I said bite, not lick. I really hope you’re not into the whole biting thing because that might be a little out of my forte.”

  I
’m rewarded with my favorite thing about him. His throaty laugh.

  “Hey, do you have plans tonight?” he asks, and I instantly laugh out loud.

  “Well, first, I am going to march in the women’s rights parade, and then I’m going to go see my favorite band tonight. I’m so excited! There’s going to be thousands of people and mosh pits and all these crowds everywhere. I’d offer for you to come, but”—I sigh—“sorry, it’s sold out.”

  “Damn, and I really wanted to be in a mosh pit tonight. I hear that’s the absolute best way to get this virus. Especially if the people next to you are screaming and singing along, spit flying out of their mouths. That, mixed with their sweat while literally being on top of each other, sounds like my dream night.”

  I can’t stop my giggling. I love that he plays along with my sarcastic ways.

  “But seriously, I’d like to take you on a date, quarantine-style,” he says.

  “Quarantine-style? Why does that sound like I should be concerned?”

  “I have an idea, but …” he drawls out his last word.

  “There’s always a but,” I tease. “If it’s too good to be true …” I trail off.

  “I need your address. I promise I won’t come in or even come close to you. I just … well, it’s a surprise.”

  “So, let’s see … you want to take me on a quarantine date that contains a surprise and butts …” See, I told you, I have the maturity level of my students.

  “Okay, maybe not butts. We’ll save that for later.”

  I sigh dramatically. “Fine. You just took the best part out, but I guess it will do.”

  I give him my address, and we agree to six o’clock, though I have no idea what I just agreed to.

  Six o’clock rolls around, and I nervously tap my fingers on my counter, wondering what this date will look like.

  The Ring app activates, and when I open it up, I see Drew walking up to my porch. He has something in his hand, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what it is. I wait for him to ring the doorbell, so I don’t come off too eager, but he doesn’t.

  Instead, he places whatever he’s holding down and walks away. I stare into my phone, moving closer to it to see what’s going on as he walks down the steps and to his car, which appears to still be running.

  He places his hands in his pockets, and the video hits its time limit and shuts off.

  Damn video!

  I run to my front door and look out the peephole. He doesn’t move but just stands there, like he’s waiting for something.

  Did he see my Ring? Is he expecting me to come to the door without him actually knocking?

  I bite my lip in thought, but before I can make a decision, I see another car come to the driveway. The sign on top of the car shows a local Italian place.

  Drew talks to the guy, and I watch as he hands Drew one of the packages out of his bag. Drew grabs something out of his car, hands it to the guy, and then points to the door, saying something else. The guy nods, taking the other part of the delivery to me.

  “Should I knock?” I hear the guy ask from behind the door.

  I laugh as I hear Drew yell, “Yeah. I’m sure she’s sitting there, watching us right now through her Ring.”

  I stand up straight, holding my head high.

  Ah, not this girl. Little does he know that I’m going old school and spying on him through the peephole and not all high-tech with the Ring.

  The guy knocks, and I stand still for a few seconds before stomping my feet as if I were walking to the door.

  When I open it, I give my most surprised face to see him standing there and then try to act even more surprised when I see Drew off in the distance.

  I wave at him and then ask, “What’s this?” I take the food from the guy.

  He walks off and turns to Drew. “Hey, good luck, man.”

  Drew smirks and then looks back to me. “I bought you dinner. That’s the first part of our date.”

  The smile on my face starts to hurt my cheeks; it’s so big.

  “What’s in the bag?” I ask, motioning to the item Drew gave the delivery boy.

  “That’s for later. Oh, and I brought you something else too.”

  He points to the ground, and I instantly crack up laughing.

  Sitting at my feet is what looks like plastic wrap that would go around flowers, but instead, it’s wrapped around toilet paper, which has been arranged to resemble flowers.

  I look up at him. “You did not!”

  He grins and shrugs. “I figured that was more appropriate nowadays than actual flowers.”

  “So, you did mean to include butts!” I yell.

  His head drops to his chest, and I can see his shoulders bouncing with laughter. “Okay, fine, I did. Go get set up, and I’ll call you when I get back to my place, but wait to eat, so we can eat together.”

  “You got it,” I say.

  He smiles and jogs around to the driver’s side of his car.

  “Oh, Drew?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  His expression lights up as he nods his head and hops in his car.

  I head back inside and open my meal to see he got me ravioli with meat sauce and garlic bread as well as a house salad. I plate my food and set up my phone in case he wants to FaceTime. I mean, this is a date after all.

  While I wait, I cheat and take a peek at what’s in the bag he gave the deliveryman. I close my eyes while chuckling to myself after seeing some microwave popcorn, Red Vines, and Peanut M&M’s. This must be a dinner and a movie date.

  My phone rings, and I see it’s Drew calling via FaceTime. I click the green button and smile as his face comes into view.

  “Hi,” he says, waving to the camera. I can see he’s set up in his room with his plate on his lap.

  “Thank you so much for dinner.” I motion to the spread in front of me.

  “I hope I made the right choice. I’m sorry I didn’t check first, but I was afraid it would ruin the surprise. My mom said you can’t go wrong with ravioli, so I went with her suggestion.”

  I try to hide the grin spreading across my face. “You asked your mom?”

  He chuckles under his breath. “Yes, okay, I did. She thought it was a cute idea too,” he says, sitting up straighter, like he’s proud of the praise he got. “Do you have a drink?” he asks, searching around the screen.

  I hold up my White Claw. “Sure do.”

  He holds up his beer, and we pretend to cheers. Then, we dive into the yummy food in front of us as we talk about our day and other things.

  After dinner, I ask, “So, what did you have in mind with what’s in the bag?” I hold it up for him to see.

  “You have Netflix, right?” he asks.

  “Yeah …” I say, slightly confused.

  “We’re going to Netflix and chill,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

  I let out a sharp laugh. “You do realize what the chill part actually means, right?”

  His sexy grin makes my heart pound. “Yes, but in our quarantine times, it literally means just chill. If I ask you to though, you have to pretend that I threw some popcorn at you.”

  “Deal.”

  “And that I’m holding your hand throughout the movie, okay? Maybe even wrapping my arm around you?”

  “Will I get a kiss good night too?” I ask.

  He holds up his hands in front of his face. “Whoa, whoa now. Don’t move too fast; we just met.” He can barely hold his expression from falling into laughter.

  “Okay, Drew, let’s Netflix and chill.”

  “You can pick the movie if you want.”

  I bring my shoulders up to my ears in excitement. “This date just got even better! Romance anyone?”

  He smiles and nods. “Romance it is.”

  6

  Day 6

  April 1

  My text dings with an incoming message, and I smile brightly when I see Drew’s name flash across my screen.

  Drew: Th
ey should change the lyrics to this song to, “Wake me up when April ends.”

  A YouTube link appears on my screen of a couple embracing in Green Day’s “Wake Me Up When September Ends” video.

  I click the link and watch for over a minute of a couple talking about how much they love each other before the music even starts. When it does, I’m taken to a much different meaning than what I thought the song actually meant. I assumed it was about Hurricane Katrina, but the video shows a young couple in love, and then the guy joins the Army before going off to war.

  I text back.

  Me: Wow. Why did I think that song was about Hurricane Katrina? That video was intense.

  Drew: Yeah. I just watched it for the first time too. I kind of regret sending it, as it’s a little bit of a mood buster.

  I look up the song’s meaning.

  Me: And now, it takes on a whole new meaning even more. Did you know it was actually written for the lead singer’s father who died September 1 when he was ten?

  Drew: Yep, I keep digging us into a sadder hole. Not my intention, I swear.

  Me: It did release right when Katrina happened, so at least I know why I thought that. But look at what I found! You’re not the only one who put the song to what’s happening now!

  I send him a parody song that someone did—“Wake Me Up When Corona Ends.”

  A few minutes later, he responds.

  Drew: Nice! #greatminds

  Me: I love that you sent me a song though. This came across my playlist as I was cleaning this morning. With what’s going on, it made me pause and take it in.

  I send him “Come Around” by Papa Roach. He doesn’t respond, and I hope it’s because he’s watching the link I sent him.

  Drew: Now, that’s a cool video.

  Me: I love how music can heal people like that.

  Drew: Absolutely.

  I send a meme I saw about artists that says, Next time you think being an artist isn’t a real career, try to live through this quarantine without music, books, movies, and porn.

  Drew: Porn?

  Me: Ha! Yeah, I guess that’s considered an art now. ;-)