Love in the Time of Corona
Page 22
“Copy that, Chief.”
They approached together, but Brenda said, “I’ll go in first. Cover me.”
They rang the bell, but no one came to the door. Brenda tried the knob. The door was open. Cautiously, she stepped into the house. She saw the place was tidy and clean. Mrs. Gavin was a good housekeeper.
Brenda walked down a short hallway to the living room. There were fragments of broken figurines scattered on the rug. A shattered lamp lay on the floor, the shade torn in half. Next to it was a pizza box. Crusts and part of an uneaten pizza lay nearby, along with empty beer bottles. In front of the wood stove, a man sat cross-legged, weeping.
As she approached, Brenda’s foot found a .45 pistol on the floor, half hidden by the skirt of an upholstered chair. She picked up the gun, dropped the magazine and ejected the round, which she caught in her hand and put in her pocket. She glanced around and saw a woman hovering in the doorway.
“Mrs. Gavin?”
The trembling woman nodded.
“Are there any other firearms in the house?”
“Hunting rifles in the gun safe in the basement.”
“Do you know the combination?”
“No. Only Steve has it.”
“Is this Steve?” Brenda asked, gesturing to the weeping man. “He’s your husband?”
Mrs. Gavin nodded.
Brenda called out to Officer Davis. “You can come in now!” Davis came into the house and gave the room a quick scan. Satisfied everything was under control, she holstered her gun.
“What happened here?” Brenda asked.
“Steve lost his job. We’re behind on our mortgage as it is. We were eating pizza, and everything was fine. Then all of sudden, he whipped out his gun and said he was going to kill himself.”
“Was he drinking?”
“Just a few beers. Well, maybe more than a few.”
Brenda knelt beside Mr. Gavin. “Why don’t you come sit on the sofa?”
Mr. Gavin took his face out of his hands and stared at her.
“Okay? Come on,” urged Brenda. “I’ll help you get up.” Her bad knee gave a twinge as she got to her feet and offered her hand. She guided Gavin toward the sofa and sat down beside him. “You okay?”
Gavin nodded mournfully. “I thought if I offed myself, the insurance would pay.”
“Well, that’s a bad plan. There’s probably an exclusion for suicide. That’s how it is for most policies. Besides, you know that’s not the answer.”
Mrs. Gavin’s wife stepped forward. “Steve, how could you even think of this? You know it would kill me!”
Brenda put up her hand to silence her. “It’s all right now. Save that for another time.” She reached out for the man’s hand. “Mr. Gavin, I’d like to take your pistol back to the station with me. If you surrender it voluntarily, you can have it back anytime you want. Okay?”
Mr. Gavin nodded.
Brenda took a notebook out of her utility pouch. “Will you give me the combination to your gun safe? If it’s all right, I’ll take your long guns too. Don’t worry. I’ll keep them safe for when you’re ready to take them back.”
Mr. Gavin recited the combination numbers, and Brenda wrote them down. She tore off the paper and handed it to Davis. “Leave the ammo, of course, we don’t need that.”
After Davis left, Brenda turned her attention back to Mr. Gavin. “Ordinarily, I’d take you down to Southern Med for mandatory observation, but the ED doesn’t want anyone there except life-or-death cases. Who’s your doctor?”
“Dr. Stolz is Steve’s doctor,” said Mrs. Gavin.
“When I leave, I’m going to call her and ask her to give you a call. I’ll ask Reverend Bartlett to call in the morning. Meanwhile, you have to be strong for your wife and yourself. Can you do that?”
Mr. Gavin nodded.
“If Dr. Stolz prescribes any meds, I’ll pick them up at Walmart and bring them over. Do you think you need medicine to calm down?”
“No, no drugs! I’m a recovering opioid addict. I’ve been clean for two years.”
“Okay, then maybe drugs aren’t the answer. I’ll have Dr. Stolz call you anyway.”
Davis returned to say all the firearms were in her cruiser. Brenda patted Mr. Gavin’s arm.
“Are you gonna be okay until Dr. Stolz calls?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Gavin. “I’m embarrassed that you had to come.” He tore at his forehead with his fingertips. “I’m an asshole.”
“That’s what we’re here for. Now, hang in there. Call us again if you need us.” She pulled out her pad. “I’ll give you the number of the suicide hotline too, but I’m hoping you won’t need it. If you do, call them right away. They can help you better than we can.”
“I’m all right now,” said Mr. Gavin. “What a dumbass thing to do.”
“Take it easy, Mr. Gavin,” said Brenda, getting up. “Mrs. Gavin can you take it from here?”
Mrs. Gavin still looked anxious, but she nodded.
Brenda sighed as she headed down the hall to the front door. Her head was really aching now. It had been all she could do to keep herself together to get through the call. In her car, she took off her mask and washed her hands with hand sanitizer. They were getting chapped from so much washing and alcohol. All the hygiene was getting old fast.
She called Liz before she set off. After she told her what had happened, Liz said, “Nope. No drugs for Gavin, but I’ll give him a call. He shouldn’t have been drinking either, but I get it. A lot of people are suddenly out of work. Thanks, Brenda.”
Brenda glanced at the clock. Her shift was over. She was close to home, so she’d go straight there and bring back the squad car in the morning. She started the engine and called Cherie through the Bluetooth.
“Hey, sweetie, how are you feeling?” she asked when Cherie answered.
“I never felt that bad. In fact, I feel fine. I want to go back to work but now, Liz is closing the office.”
“She is?”
“Yes, starting tomorrow, we’re using Telehealth.”
“I suppose that’s good. How’s your dad?”
“Same. He’s stable on the ventilator.”
“That’s good news, right?”
“Sort of good news. There’s no improvement either. The mortality rate of covid patients on vents is very high,” said Cherie in a steady, professional-sounding voice. Brenda could sense that Cherie’s medical training was all that was keeping her together.
Brenda suddenly felt the overwhelming impulse to cough. She stifled it as long as she could. Then it erupted and she couldn’t stop. “Sorry about that,” she murmured when the jag finally ended.
“How long have you had that cough?” Cherie asked in a concerned voice.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Spring allergies.”
“I don’t like the sound of that, Brenda. Do you have a thermometer?”
“Yes,” said Brenda, but she didn’t like where this conversation was going.
“I want you to take your temperature when you get home and call me.”
“Yes, Doctor,” said Brenda, knowing it would annoy Cherie. At least, she’d given up trying to correct her. “I miss you soooo much.”
“I miss you too like you can’t even imagine!”
“So, I’ll come over,” said Brenda. She grinned even though Cherie couldn’t see her.
“No! We don’t know if I’m still contagious.”
“Oh, come on! You’ve been home for what? Ten days now?”
“But we don’t know anything about this virus…how long the incubation period is…whether the antibodies you develop provide immunity.”
Brenda pulled into her driveway and yanked up her parking brake. “I’m home,” she announced.
“Okay. Get settled and call me later,” said Cherie. “And take y
our temperature!”
Brenda was about to say something fresh again but decided against it. “Okay, sweetheart, I’ll call you right back. First I have to find the damn thing.” She made a loud kissing sound and ended the call.
Brenda got undressed before looking for the thermometer. She put on lounge pants and an old Yankees hoodie that she’d never dare wear in Red Sox country for fear of being stoned. Well, that was an exaggeration. But Sox fans were almost as bad as Patriots fans.
She ransacked the medicine cabinets in both of the upstairs bathrooms. Nothing. She went through the drawers in both vanities. Finally, she finally found the thermometer in the downstairs bathroom. She pulled off the protective cap and pressed the button. The screen remained blank. Brenda tried to remember the last time she’d used a thermometer and realized it was probably the year she’d moved to Maine and had the flu. Brenda shook the thermometer, hoping it would wake up, but it was pointless. The battery was dead.
“Fuck,” said Brenda. She wondered if she still had an old-fashioned glass thermometer somewhere. She redoubled her search but came up empty handed. Cherie was expecting her call. Sooner or later, she’d have to fess up.
Brenda took a bottle of beer off the refrigerator door, reasoning that a little alcohol would kill anything. She wearily flopped on the cushion of the living room sofa and tapped Cherie’s number in her favorites. While it rang on the other end, she took a slug of beer.
“Well?” asked Cherie. “What’s your temperature?”
“Haven’t a clue. The battery died.”
Cherie groaned. “How can you be without a thermometer!”
“Don’t know, but I seem to be.”
“Do you have a replacement battery?” asked Cherie in a patient voice.
“Are you fucking kidding me? It’s some little weird hearing aid battery. No.”
“I’m coming over,” said Cherie.
“What?” Brenda sat up straight. This was serious. “You just said ten minutes ago it was too risky.”
“It is risky, but I’m coming over.”
“Then pack a bag and stay a while.”
There was an extended silence on the line. “Actually, that’s a good idea.”
Chapter Thirty
At the last minute, Cherie realized that she should probably bring along some of the food from the refrigerator, at least the milk and fresh vegetables. Liz came by every few days to deliver groceries, so the refrigerator was well stocked. Liz had dropped off food the night before, so it would be a few days until she returned. Eventually, Cherie would have to tell her boss that she had disobeyed her orders and left the house.
Technically, breaking quarantine imposed by a medical officer was illegal. Cherie, stuck at home and bored out of her mind, had researched the penalty. According to the U.S. Code, someone who broke quarantine was subject to a fine of up to a thousand dollars or a year in jail or both! Of course, Liz would never report her. And who would arrest her? Brenda?
After packing up the groceries in a thermal bag, Cherie checked her medical kit to make sure she had everything she might need. These days, hardly any doctors bothered with a medical bag. They had everything they needed at their workplace and bringing their own specialized tools was unnecessary. Everyone had their favorite stethoscope, of course, but that was about it.
Liz Stolz was the exception, which showed her vintage even more than her gray hair. Like most doctors, she almost never made house calls anymore, but she still kept an old-fashioned bag at home in case of an emergency. Every few months, Liz brought her bag into the office to replenish the stock of expired medications and check that everything was in working order. When she’d laid out the contents on her desk to make a visual inventory, Cherie had perceived the value of the critical instruments and medications. It inspired her to put together her own medical kit. Fortunately, it included a working thermometer and surgical masks.
The bag of refrigerator items was heavy. Cherie slung her duffle bag over her shoulder to see if she could make it to the car in one trip and decided to try.
As she drove, she wondered how she could deal being in the same house with Brenda and maintain isolation. By the time she arrived in Brenda’s development, Cherie had convinced herself it was possible.
Brenda had the door open before Cherie even got out of her car. “You’re wearing a mask?” Brenda asked incredulously.
“I may still be contagious. You may be too,” said Cherie, handing her the bag of groceries. “Supplies. I don’t want these things to spoil in my refrigerator and come home to a stench.”
“So, you’re staying a while.” Brenda smiled broadly.
“Looks like it,” said Cherie stepping inside. “How are you?”
“I have a headache, but otherwise I don’t feel too bad.”
Brenda closed the door. “Since I can’t kiss you, can I have a hug?”
“That’s probably not a good idea either.”
Brenda made a sad puppy face, reminding Cherie once again of a golden retriever. “Stop. You’ll survive,” said Cherie, taking off her coat. “Put away the groceries and then I want to examine you.”
“Oooh, I like that idea!”
Cherie rolled her eyes. “You are incorrigible.”
“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds like a compliment.”
Cherie laughed. “Believe me. It’s not.”
“What does it mean? I was never good at vocabulary.”
“It means no one can reform you,” said Cherie with a firm look.
Brenda grinned broadly. What a thing she is! She’s proud of it, thought Cherie as she followed Brenda into the kitchen.
“Where can I put my stuff?” asked Cherie.
“You know where my room is,” Brenda said into the refrigerator as she put the groceries away.
“Um, I can’t sleep with you.”
“Why not?” Brenda stood up. The open refrigerator began to chime annoyingly.
“I have the virus!”
Brenda shrugged in resignation. “Take the room next to mine. Or if that’s too close, any bedroom upstairs. The linens are clean on all the beds.”
Cherie carried her bag upstairs. The guilt over breaking quarantine nagged her, so she virtuously chose the room farthest away from Brenda’s bedroom. When she came downstairs, she found Brenda staring into the refrigerator. “I’m looking for something to eat for dinner.”
“How about a cheese omelette and some salad?” asked Cherie. “Sit down, and I’ll make you one. I brought over all the ingredients.”
“Hmm,” said Brenda with a smile. I haven’t had that for a long time. Sounds yummy.”
“First, let me take your temperature.”
Brenda’s smile instantly inverted. “Can’t it wait?”
“It’s the reason I came over here, so no.”
Cherie took her temporal thermometer out her medical kit and put it against Brenda’s forehead. It beeped momentarily, and Cherie checked the reading, relieved to see the temperature was only elevated by a degree. There were normal fluctuations at different times of the day, so that didn’t truly indicate a fever, but it was worth watching. Cherie checked Brenda’s forehead with the back of her hand. It felt a bit warm.
“My mother used to check for fever by kissing my forehead,” said Brenda.
“Sweet idea, but not accurate, and certainly not healthy in the time of Corona.”
“How can love be unhealthy?” asked Brenda.
“Ever hear of venereal disease?”
“You’re so romantic.”
Cherie started opening cabinets. “I need a frying pan and a bowl to beat the eggs.” Brenda got up to find them for her. She set the frying pan on the range and handed Cherie a beater.
“You look very domestic,” said Brenda. “It suits you.”
“Don’t ge
t any ideas.”
“I’m not. I just like how you look in my kitchen, like you belong here.”
“It’s a nice kitchen,” said Cherie gazing around, as she beat the eggs. “Bigger than mine.” She poured the eggs into the frying pan, tilting the pan to spread them evenly. She cut up some cheddar cheese into thin slices. “I like your stove better too.”
“Maybe you’ll get more opportunities to use it.”
“Maybe I will,” said Cherie, turning around to give Brenda a knowing look. She saw that Brenda’s gaze was focused on her backside and widened her eyes to show disapproval. “Brenda, I’m trying to cook now. Behave.” She arranged the cheese slices in the pan.
“Have you ever lived with someone?” asked Brenda. Her chair creaked a little as she sat back.
“I never had the opportunity.” Cherie flipped over one side of the omelette, so the cheese would melt.
“Would you like to?”
“Don’t you think it’s a little early for that question?”
“I didn’t mean me in particular,” Brenda said impatiently. “I meant in general.”
“I don’t know. I have a big responsibility right now with my father. Would I like to share my life with someone? Yes, of course. Doesn’t everyone?”
Cherie turned around and saw that Brenda looked thoughtful. “I don’t know about everyone. Liz was fine on her own before Maggie showed up. I don’t really like being alone. I like having someone around to share meals, watch movies, compare notes on things. You know.”
“Well, it looks like you’ll have an opportunity to road test that idea. I’ll be here for a few days…at least.” Cherie shoveled the omelette on to a plate and put it in front of Brenda. “Do you want a salad too? I’ll make it for you.”
“No, sit down and keep me company while I eat.” She dug into the omelette and ate hungrily. “It’s delicious. Thank you.” She looked up and studied Cherie’s face. “Do you really have to wear that mask?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Shit,” said Brenda.
“I agree. I don’t like it either,” said Cherie in a flat voice. “Eat.”
There was silence while Brenda ate. Afterwards, Cherie rinsed the dishes and cleaned the frying pan. “Where do you want to do this examination?” she asked, drying her hands on a dish towel.