Love in the Time of Corona

by Elena Graf

  Lucy turned. Liz could tell she was smiling from her eyes. “Good idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Cherie answered and Liz put the call on video. “Lucy’s going to start. Would you like to watch?”

  “Oh, yes! Please.”

  As Liz held the phone to video the ceremony, she remembered some of the tricks Maggie and Alina had taught her for positioning the lens and using the zoom to emphasize things. Wrapped up in the process, Liz tried to ignore the religious part of the service, but her mind couldn’t help but hear the words Lucy was reciting. “Almighty God, look on this your servant, lying in great weakness, and comfort him with the promise of life everlasting, given in the resurrection of your Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.”

  Lucy looked up at Liz. “Would you do Jean-Paul the honor of reciting the antiphons?”

  “Me?” asked Liz.

  Lucy beckoned her closer and Liz refocused the camera.

  “Here, follow along with me in the text. You read the italics. God, the Father.”

  “Have mercy on your servant,” read Liz. Lucy looked up and gave her a warm smile.

  The ceremony proceeded. Liz took her role seriously, but she was glad when it was over.

  “Cherie? Would you like to say something to your father?” asked Lucy. “Liz can you hold the phone to his ear.” Lucy nodded in her direction.

  “I love you, Daddy. I love you so much,” said Cherie’s mournful voice. “I miss you already.” She began to sob. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You’re doing fine, Cherie,” Lucy said. “Say what’s in your heart.”

  Tears started to form in Liz’s eyes. She could see that Lucy’s eyes were already full. The sobs coming through the phone speaker grew louder, punctuated by the words, “I love you, Daddy. I love you.”

  Finally, Liz couldn’t stand it anymore. She turned the camera on the phone around and said, “Let’s let him rest, Cherie. I’m sure he was glad to hear your voice. We’ll call you later.”

  “Thanks so much, Dr. Stolz. Thank you, Mother Lucy. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  “You’re welcome, Cherie,” said Lucy. “We love you.”

  “Talk to you later,” said Liz and tapped off the call.

  As they were depositing their protective clothing in the bin at the end of the hall, Lucy asked, “Did you believe what you told Cherie? About her father being glad to hear her voice?”

  Liz shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

  Before they got in the car, Liz took out her bottle of hand sanitizer and gestured to Lucy, who did the same. They rode to Liz’s office in silence.

  “You can take the first shower,” Liz said, throwing her keys on the desk. “Don’t hog all the hot water.”

  Liz sat in her consulting room while Lucy showered. She could hear the beat of the water against the wall and smiled when Lucy began to sing in the shower. Of course, she would. She didn’t take long, evidently taking Liz’s warning about using up the hot water seriously. She came out dressed in a workout suit and her hair in a turban. “There’s a hair dryer on the wall,” said Liz. “Dry your hair. It’s cold outside.”

  “I can wait until you’re done,” said Lucy.

  Liz showered quickly, dried her own hair and came out. “Go ahead,” she said. She could hear the drone of the hair dryer while she checked the messages on her phone.

  Finally, they headed home. “Do you often pray at the bedside of dying people?” Liz asked as she navigated the back roads to the house.

  “It’s part of my job,” said Lucy.

  “When I was a surgeon, I had to tell the families of people who died on my table. I hated it. I’d go out and deliver the bad news. Then I’d leave it to the social workers and the chaplains to mop up the mess. I was never good at that part.”

  “You did very well today,” said Lucy. “I admire you. It must be hard to do what you do without faith.”

  “Thanks, but your iron age fairy tales don’t impress me.”

  “Who hurt you, Liz? Why do you hate religion so much?”

  “It’s not about hurt. It’s anger over the double standard, the hatred of women and gay people. The money grabbing. The pedophilia. It’s disgusting.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Liz saw Lucy nod. “I understand. I feel the same way myself.”

  “You do? So how do you keep doing this?”

  “Because I know that God loves us, and I want to help people know it too.” Lucy reached over and patted Liz on the shoulder. “She loves you too. Even you, grumpy Liz Stolz.”

  “That’s nice,” said Liz cynically.

  “It’s okay,” said Lucy with a nod. “God has infinite patience.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  They were ready to begin their talent night, but Liz was nowhere to be found. Maggie knew exactly where to look for her. As Maggie had expected, Liz was in her office, staring at her computer screen.

  “Aren’t you coming to our show?” asked Maggie. Then she saw the stock market charts on the screen and the pad on Liz’s desk scribbled with figures. She hugged Liz around the shoulders. “Honey, you have to stop worrying. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

  Liz twisted out of her embrace. “You don’t understand.” She tapped the pad. “THIS is how much we’ve lost so far.”

  Maggie glanced at the figure and her stomach lurched. It was hard to wrap her mind around a sum that large. “It’s a lot, but you always say it will come back.” She rubbed Liz’s shoulder sympathetically. “You’re obsessing about this. Now, close the laptop and come to the show. We rehearsed all afternoon for this. Lucy is singing her special aria, the one you requested.”

  “Tell her I’ll take a rain check.”

  Maggie stood straight. “Liz, you can’t do that!” She narrowed her eyes and scrutinized Liz’s face. “Have you two had a fight?”

  “No,” said Liz, but she had that guilty look Maggie knew very well.

  “I hope not, because with all of us living together, we can’t afford petty arguments.”

  “She keeps trying to convert me. It’s fucking annoying.”

  Maggie laughed. “Then she has way more patience than I do. I know you’re a lost cause.” Maggie stroked the back of Liz’s head. “Honey, you need a haircut. You’re starting to look like a sheepdog.”

  Liz raised her shoulder to avoid Maggie’s hand. “I don’t know if I trust you to cut my hair.”

  “With the salons closed, I’m your best option.” Maggie mussed the wild, gray waves on the top. “Besides, with your grunge hairstyle, no one will ever notice if I screw up.” Maggie patted Liz’s shoulder. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting.”

  Maggie watched Liz log out of the brokerage site and close her laptop. She stood at the office door, waiting to make sure Liz was coming along. She gave Liz’s behind an affectionate pat on the way out.

  When they came into the media room, Tony, the director of the Webhanet Playhouse, could be seen on the giant TV screen above the small stage. “Hello, Liz!” he said, his baritone booming in the room. “About time you got here.”

  “Sorry, Tony,” Liz called back. “Counting my money.”

  “Speaking of money, we could use your help. I think we’re going to have to cancel the season.”

  “That’s a shame, but I’ve taken some heavy losses in the market. I’ll do what I can,” said Liz, finding a seat. “Did the Bush family come through?”

  “Yes, they doubled their usual contribution.”

  “Well, I won’t be outdone by some Republicans, so I guess I’ll have to double mine too.”

  Tony looked genuinely touched. “Thanks, Liz. We appreciate it.”

  Maggie went up to the stage and clapped her hands. “All right, let’s settle down everyone. Welcome to our seco
nd stay-at-home talent night.” She gestured to the big screen overhead. “As you can see, Tony Roselli is joining us by Zoom.” She stood back and waved to the screen. “Hi, Tony!”

  “Hi Maggie and friends,” Tony called back.

  Erika went to the laptop on a nearby table to adjust the volume coming from the big screen to sound more natural.

  Alina stepped to the front and stood beside her mother. “Okay, everyone. We’re going to begin. We’re livestreaming this performance on the Hobbs Facebook page and recording it for my station. I need everyone in the audience to be as quiet as possible, so the audio isn’t full of coughing and shuffling. Does everyone understand?”

  Maggie glanced around the tiny audience and saw the nods of agreement.

  “Mom? Will you be ready to switch when I have to go up and watch the kids, so Emily can come down for her piano numbers?”

  “Yes, dear. Don’t worry.” Maggie tried to sound confident, but she realized her palms were sweating and blotted them on a tissue. Despite decades in the theater, she was still nervous before a live performance.

  Lucy came up to the stage to join her. She smiled one of her brilliant smiles, and Maggie instantly felt better. Tony began to play the introduction to “For Good,” from Wicked.

  Maggie counted the beats to her entrance. She always felt humbled singing with a world-famous opera star, but Lucy was so warm and encouraging that Maggie never felt diminished sharing the stage with her. As they sang the meaningful lyrics celebrating friendship, the staging called for them to join hands. Maggie gave her friend’s a little squeeze.

  They reprised many of the numbers from the Webhanet Playhouse’s Labor Day Gala, minimally choreographed and costumed for the tiny stage. They had planned for Lucy to do a solo number, her aria from the Merry Widow before the camera switch so that Maggie would have time to get ready for the camera switch. Maggie anxiously scanned the control panel, trying to remember all the instructions Alina had given her. They’d gone over it several times in the last few days and tested it for the livestream of Lucy’s Palm Sunday service.

  Lucy was winding down her aria, and Maggie saw Emily coming down to the front. This was the tricky part. She needed to swing the position of the camera to focus on the grand piano, but she waited, as they’d agreed, for Erika to redirect on the lighting. Right on cue, the spotlight over the piano came on. What an amazing crew they made.

  Maggie allowed herself to relax while Emily brilliantly played Liszt and Chopin. The girl had such native talent as a musician. Of course, Lucy, her mother, was a brilliant singer and musical talent seemed to run in families.

  After Emily took her bows, Maggie trained the camera on the stage. Lucy was coming out to sing “Elsa’s Dream,” the aria she had promised to sing for Liz. Maggie had been an actress and director for decades, but she always marveled when Lucy performed. The discipline it must take to sing such sophisticated music and act at the same time.

  Maggie finally allowed herself to relax. The little concert was almost over. This number was the finale. Afterwards, they would switch to the live feed from the Webhanet Playhouse, where Tony would make an appeal for donations. The Playhouse couldn’t survive without philanthropy, and the losses from a canceled season would be crushing. So many theaters, opera houses, and museums would be devastated by the loss of ticket sales, never mind the actors, musicians and stage crew out of work. Most arts institutions were streaming archival material in a gesture of good will during the shutdown, but how long could they survive?

  Maggie turned around to rest her eyes from the bright lights on the stage. She saw Liz, sitting at the edge of her seat, gazing with pure adoration at Lucy singing on the stage. If Liz thought she was hiding her crush on Lucy, she was kidding herself.

  Sometimes, Maggie felt a little twinge of jealousy when she saw her wife fawning over Lucy like a fool, but everyone fell in love with Lucy. Even Maggie, who never felt drawn to very feminine women, felt the attraction. What did Lucy have that was so compelling? She was beautiful, yes, no one could deny it, but there was something else…

  As the aria was coming to a close, Maggie reviewed the steps for switching the feed to the Playhouse. Tony would wind down the show and thank the participants. There would be no curtain calls. Instead, they would play a video clip of the curtain calls from last year’s Labor Day show with Tony’s voice over pleading for money. Maggie switched over to the Playhouse and turned off the camera.

  Maggie made sure the local audio was off and announced, “We did it!” The tiny audience clapped and cheered.

  She watched Liz go up to the stage, offer a courtly bow to Lucy, and kiss her hand.

  “Hey, Liz, what about me?” Maggie called to her.

  Liz hopped down from the stage and offered Maggie a hug of congratulations and a kiss.

  “Hey, everyone! Time for the cast party,” announced Liz. “We have champagne and brownies in the kitchen!”

  Liz uncorked bottles of champagne and filled the waiting flutes. Erika put out the platter of brownies. Maggie put two on a plate for Stefan, who had found refuge at the table in the breakfast nook. His hearing aid bothered him when there was too much ambient noise.

  “You were delightful, my dear,” he said as Maggie put the plate in front of him and handed him a glass of champagne. “It is wonderful to have not only your hospitality, but such wonderful entertainment.”

  Maggie slid next to him on the bench. “We’re glad you could join us.”

  He trained his pale eyes on her. “You are lucky to have so much space for guests, and we are lucky to be invited.”

  “Are you comfortable in the downstairs guestroom? I stayed there for a while when I broke my leg.”

  “Yes, I am very comfortable. I miss my books…and my friends at Ocean Terrace, but the company here is much more stimulating. It’s quite a lively household.”

  “No too lively I hope,” said Maggie, patting his hand. The skin was crepey and soft. She could feel the bones below prominently. He might be ninety-two, but the twinkle in his eye showed the spirit of a much younger man, and a shameless flirt at that!

  He laughed softly. “Not at all. I will miss all the activity when I go home again.”

  “That doesn’t look like it will be anytime soon.”

  He sighed. “No, it doesn’t, I’m afraid.”

  Maggie looked up and saw Liz staring at her phone. With a frown, Liz headed to where Lucy stood, and now the two of them were looked grim. Maggie patted Stefan’s hand.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “I see my wife needs me. I’ll be back.”

  “Take your time, Maggie. Meanwhile, I will sample your lovely brownies. I’m sure they will be delicious.”

  Liz and Lucy were speaking in hushed tones when Maggie approached.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Maggie.

  “Cherie just texted,” said Liz. “Her father died.”

  “Oh, no!” said Maggie.

  “I’m going upstairs to call her,” said Lucy. “You’ll have to hold down the fort for me.”

  Before Lucy left, she headed to where Erika stood. Maggie guessed she was telling her the sad news.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Cherie was listening to Brenda’s chest sounds with her stethoscope when she thought she heard the doorbell ring. Fortunately, the congestion wasn’t getting worse, despite Brenda’s complaints that she couldn’t catch her breath. Cherie thought she heard the doorbell again and pulled out one earpiece to listen. “I should see who’s at the door,” she explained as she smoothed back Brenda’s hair. Brenda smiled weakly.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll sleep now so I can be with you for the funeral.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Cherie said.

  “Yes, it is,” insisted Brenda before launching into a coughing jag. “And I want to take a shower, so I don’t look like a homeless person
.”

  “No one cares how you look.”

  “I care.” Brenda rolled over. She was almost instantly asleep. The constant coughing had been keeping her awake at night and preventing Cherie from sleeping too. Finally, Cherie had moved back into the bedroom farthest from Brenda’s so that she could get some much-needed rest. She’d need all her strength. Between Brenda’s health deteriorating and the funeral, there was plenty to handle.

  The doorbell rang again. Fortunately, whoever it was had the decency not to lean on the bell. Cherie put on knit jacket and ran down the stairs. She opened the door and looked out.

  Standing a healthy distance away was Liz Stolz, but she looked so different from the boss Cherie was used to seeing. Liz was wearing a smart, black skirted suit and high heels. When Cherie opened the storm door, Liz looked up from her phone and stuffed it in her pocket.

  “Good morning,” said Liz. “I know it’s a little early, but I wanted to get back so I can drive Maggie, Lucy and Emily to the church. They want to do a quick rehearsal before the service. I brought you a few things.” She gestured to the bench on the little porch.

  Cherie glanced over and saw the oxygen canister she’d requested and three shopping bags. There was also a small stock pot.

  “I’d help you bring the stuff in but I’m trying to stay out of range because I don’t want my clothes and hair contaminated. No offense, of course. The cannulas and tubing are in one of the bags. That’s chicken soup I made yesterday. Maggie sent you a blueberry bread.”

  “Thank you,” Cherie murmured, still admiring Liz in her dress-up clothes. Her hair and makeup were perfect. “You look so different. Is this how you used to dress when you were chief of surgery at Yale?”

  “Yes, unfortunately,” said Liz, “but after all those years of playing grown up, I try to avoid it if possible.”