Love in the Time of Corona

by Elena Graf

  There was a little murmur of laughter in the room. Liz was always amazed that Lucy never used notes when she gave a sermon. Then she reminded herself that Lucy had memorized entire operas that went on for hours.

  “We can criticize the disciples for their disbelief, but aren’t we just as blind? In the Gospel of Matthew, we are told that Christ appeared to Mary Magdalene in the garden. And in John’s Gospel which I read today, the women told the disciples how they’d come to the tomb and found it empty. Of course, the disciples were skeptical. And after all, it was a group of women who’d brought them the amazing news. We women are used to being disbelieved. Ever take your car for service and talk about a mysterious ping? The mechanic tries not to roll his eyes, but we know what he’s thinking.”

  Lucy stopped a moment for the joke to sink in. She had perfect comedic timing.

  “We see the world through the prism of our prejudices,” Lucy continued. “We live in silos of belief. Stubbornly, we cling to our beliefs rather than trust what we hear with our ears or see with our eyes. Despite the most reasonable arguments, the advice from doctors and scientists, or the evidence right in front of us, we hear what we want to hear. We see what want to see.

  “In the era of “fake news” we hear all kinds of things that may be helpful or dangerous as we face a deadly threat to human life. Some people say the virus is a hoax. Let’s think about that. Does a hoax cause the deaths of thousands of people?

  “What to believe? Do we believe the evidence of our own eyes? Or do we doubt like the disciples? I’ll tell you what I believe. I believe it’s my duty to protect my life, the blessing of my God-given life, and the lives of the people I love. Because we are our brother’s keeper, we must pay attention to the needs of others. Some of our neighbors have conditions that make them more vulnerable—the elderly, the handicapped, the poor. We must protect them because Christ instructed us to love our neighbor.”

  “But let’s return to the empty tomb and the garden where Christ appeared to Mary Magdalene. Like her, I want to reach out and touch Him. But He says, “Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father.” How much do we want to reach out and touch our friends and family? Children and parents are separated. How do you explain to a small child that he can’t have a hug from his grandparent? But he can’t now, and neither can we. We must wait until it is safe to reach out and touch again.

  “Even without touching him, I believe that Christ has risen because I have seen Him with my own eyes in people who live right here in Hobbs. I have seen so many people reflect Christ by sacrificing themselves for others—so many front-line workers: police, firefighters, nurses, doctors and paramedics. Not only first responders and medical personnel, but ordinary people, the people who stock our supermarket shelves and man our gas stations. They have put themselves in danger for the sake of others.

  “They prove you don’t have to be hero to reflect Christ. Jesus asks that you love one another as you love yourself. You love yourself enough to stay alive, right? Here’s the good news. You can protect your own life and love your neighbor by following the rules, staying home and not spreading a deadly illness. You can love your neighbor by not giving in to your anger and being kind. God’s love is in every act of kindness, no matter how small. In this difficult time, I have seen acts of kindness that bring tears to my eyes. You know what that tells me? Christ walks among us. He is risen, and he is right here with us.” Lucy crossed herself and approached the altar.

  As the service went on, Nicki, who’d fallen sound asleep in Liz’s lap, began to snore softly. Liz dozed herself, but she woke up when Maggie began to sing the communion hymn. The feed on the TV cut to the virtual choir singing.

  Everyone approached to receive, even avowed atheist, Stefan Bultmann. After everyone returned to their seats, Lucy looked at Liz, who gestured to the sleeping child in her arms. She expected Lucy to give up her quest and get on with the service, but she approached. Her eyes were filled with such an ineffable look of love that Liz couldn’t stop herself from reaching out her hands to accept the bread.

  “The body of Christ,” said Lucy. She gave Liz a warm smile and returned to the altar.

  “Damn that woman!” Liz muttered. “She seduces everyone.”

  Erika, sitting beside her, chuckled. “Yes, she does. She’s like the Borg Queen. Resistance is futile.”

  After the service, everyone gathered in the dining room for Easter dinner. As much as Liz complained about religious holidays, she enjoyed the excuse for relaxed family dinners. While the adults cleaned up after the meal, the children watched Easter movies. They began with Peter Rabbit and went on to Hop.

  Liz was reading the Times on her iPad, when a call from her service came through. She climbed over Erika’s legs and headed to her office to take call.

  “Dr. Stolz?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Dorothy Bergeron called for you. She thinks she may have the novel coronavirus. She sounds really distressed. She was so upset she couldn’t remember her own phone number.”

  “Thank you. I can look it up in my files. Happy Easter.”

  “Happy Easter to you too, Doctor.”

  Liz opened the secure portal to access the patient files. She found Mrs. Bergeron’s telephone number right away and entered it into her phone. As it rang on the other end, Liz reviewed the patient’s details in the file. Mrs. Bergeron was eighty-six. She had no family nearby and no emergency contact listed. A year ago, she had been hospitalized for a case of pneumonia.

  “Dr. Stolz. Thank God! I can’t breathe.”

  “Mrs. Bergeron, if you can’t breathe, you should call 911. Do you want me to call for you?”

  “No! I don’t want to go to the hospital and get the virus. It’s not safe!”

  “But if you can’t breathe, you need to be in the hospital.”

  “Please, Doctor. I know you don’t make house calls anymore, but I really need you to come.” Liz debated what to do. She knew she should call an ambulance, but she felt sorry for the old woman, who was all alone and sounded absolutely terrified.

  “All right, Mrs. Bergeron. I’ll be there in few minutes.”

  After she hung up the call, Liz pulled her medical bag out of the cabinet in the credenza. She left it in the hallway while she went into the media room to tell her wife where she was going. “I need to see a patient who’s old and very frightened. I’ll be back soon,” she whispered into Maggie ear.

  Maggie slid her hand down Liz’s arm and grasped her wrist. “Honey, be careful.”

  “Always.”

  She looked up to see the concerned looks in Erika’s and Lucy’s faces. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”

  Liz climbed in her truck and started the engine. She was glad it started up right away. It had been sitting for weeks. She had to back up carefully because there were so many vehicles in the driveway. As she drove to Mrs. Bergeron’s, she decided to ask the ambulance crew to stand by.

  “You sure you don’t want me to call them in?” asked the dispatcher.

  “Not yet. It’s a holiday and they’re with their families. I’ll let you know if I need them when I get there.”

  When Liz arrived at Mrs. Bergeron’s house, she noticed that the old Cape really needed a paint job. It was down to the bare wood. House painting was so expensive nowadays that many elderly people simply couldn’t afford it.

  Before Liz went into the house, she looked in her bag for a mask. Unfortunately, she found only the flimsy paper surgical masks with the elastic stapled to the sides. Better than nothing, Liz thought as she put the lower strap over her head. She put on nitrile gloves before she tried the door handle. Fortunately, the door was open. Many people in that part of town never locked their doors.

  “Hello?” called Liz as she found her way inside. Somewhere, a cat litter box desperately needed to be emptied. Liz wrinkled up her nos
e. She hated that odor. She could smell piss, vomit, open bowels and a host of other vile human smells, but the stench of cat piss was something she couldn’t stand. Otherwise, the house looked tidy except for the pile of newspapers on the kitchen floor and some bottles on the counter. “Mrs. Bergeron? It’s Dr. Stolz,” called Liz. Despite her insistence on informality, she still used her title with older patients because they seemed to prefer it.

  “In here!” called a raspy voice. Liz had only to follow the sound of the coughing to arrive at her destination.

  Liz’s eyes took in the situation in a glance. Mrs. Bergeron was nearly blue from lack of oxygen. Liz took out her phone and called the ambulance dispatcher. “Send them over.”

  “Oh, Dr. Stolz!” cried Mrs. Bergeron between coughs, “Thanks so much for coming.”

  Liz took her temperature with a temporal thermometer. Up three degrees. The woman’s skin felt clammy to the touch. Through her stethoscope, Liz could hear the distinctive crackling sound of congestion.

  “Your lungs are really congested,” said Liz. “I know you don’t want to go to the hospital, but you really have no choice.”

  “Can’t you…just give…me…medicine?” asked the old woman, the words coming out staccato between her breaths.

  “There is no medicine,” said Liz. “I called the ambulance. They’ll be here soon.”

  “But my cat!”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure someone takes care of your cat.”

  “Okay. Okay.” The woman closed her eyes. They were sunken from dehydration. She panted shallow breaths.

  “You might breathe better if you sat up,” Liz said and reached into the woman’s armpits to help her up. The woman’s eyes shot open, wide with fear. She grabbed at Liz’s face, catching the strap of the mask, which broke.

  The mask dangled uselessly as the woman coughed directly into Liz’s face.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  From the kitchen window, Maggie could see the light go on in the loft over Liz’s woodworking shop. She could see movement, but it was too far away to make out anything but shadows. She guessed that Liz was getting ready for bed. She had everything she needed in her design studio. She’d built a Murphy bed into the wall. There was a shower and toilet, a refrigerator and a microwave, even a coffee pot. Sometimes they put extra guests in that little studio, but mostly it was Liz’s place to hide from everyone when she needed time to herself.

  It had been five days since Liz had self-quarantined. They were still waiting to see if the old woman would test positive for covid-19. Liz had gone directly from Mrs. Bergeron’s house to her workshop and locked the door. She wouldn’t let Maggie near her when she’d come home that night. She texted a list of the things she needed and asked Maggie to leave them outside the door.

  Is there anything else you need? Maggie had texted to Liz before she brought down the items she’d requested.

  Beer and salty snacks.

  Okay. Is that it?

  You. I lust for you.

  LOL!

  I’m not kidding. I’m going to miss you.

  Liz had talked about her own risks if she contracted the virus. She had smoked for years. Like so many surgeons, she was a daredevil who thought she could defy the odds. Maggie knew that Liz exposed herself to disease as a doctor, but there had never been anything like this pandemic before. On the news, they saw footage of the horrors in the New York hospitals where people by the thousands had the virus. The emergency rooms and ICUs were overwhelmed. It was like something out of a disaster movie.

  How lucky they were to be in Maine where there were fewer than a thousand cases. Their new governor seemed like a sharp, level-headed woman, who made reasoned, smart choices. She’d shut down the state before the first case appeared. Every day she held a news conference with the state CDC director, a calm man, who explained things in language everyone could understand.

  They’d had a few nice days after Easter. Maggie had taken the sling chair she used at the beach and sat outside the window of the workshop. She could see the big machines inside, the duct work and tubing to collect the wood dust when Liz built furniture. Liz’s workbench was near the window for natural light. When they talked by phone, Liz sat on the bench top with her long legs dangling. Before they parted, they always mirrored their hands on the glass that separated them and gazed at one another wordlessly.

  After she finished washing the dessert dishes, Maggie turned off the water and folded the dish towel over the faucet. An arm came around her waist and gave her a half hug.

  “Oh Maggie, I know how you must miss her,” said Lucy, leaning her head against Maggie’s shoulder.

  “I’m scared.”

  “I know. I’m scared too. But Liz is healthy and strong. She’s young for her age. And she’s a doctor. She knows how to take care of herself.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  Lucy chuckled. “No, I wouldn’t. Sometimes she’s too stubborn for her own good.”

  Maggie didn’t know why that perfect assessment of Liz suddenly brought tears to her eyes, but she turned into Lucy’s arms and cried. Her friend soothingly patted her back until Maggie stood straight and dried her face with her fingertips.

  “Will you pray for her?”

  Lucy’s sympathetic eyes gazed into hers. “I always pray for her…and you. I love you both. But my prayers aren’t magic or more powerful than yours. You should pray too.”

  Maggie nodded. She knew that.

  “Now come out and watch the chess masters face each other down. It’s kind of like watching paint dry, but the facial expressions are fascinating. How many ways are there to deadpan?”

  Lucy always knew how to cheer her. Maggie followed her into the living room where Emily and Stefan were locked in a death stare with the chessmen.

  As they sat down on the sofa to watch, Lucy whispered to Maggie, “This is worse than baseball.”

  “Nothing is worse than baseball,” Maggie whispered back.

  The staring match with the chessmen continued. Finally, Emily moved her bishop.

  Erika’s phone rang. “It’s Liz. She wants to know who’s winning.” Erika’s fingers worked to compose a reply.

  “What are you writing?” asked Maggie.

  Erika looked up. “I am writing that she would be winning if she hadn’t thrown the match to me. She has no patience.”

  “Tell her I’m winning,” said Emily.

  “Yes, you are, my dear,” said Erika. “My poor father has no idea what he’s up against.”

  “Oh, I do,” Stefan said, wagging a finger. “I always study the skills of my opponent. It is essential to good strategy.”

  Erika’s phone pinged again. “It’s Liz. She’d like to Skype with us. She says she’s lonely.” Erika raised her blond brows. “Oh my. That is a big admission for the mighty Liz.”

  “Why don’t we go into the media room?” suggested Lucy. “We can see better on the big TV.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” said Stefan. “I wouldn’t mind delaying the inevitable. I am about to be defeated by a mere girl.” He gave Emily a threatening look.

  They went into the media room. Alina used her laptop to open a Skype call on the big screen.

  “Oh, it’s so good to see you guys!” Liz said, looking at each of them one by one. Her lips flattened into a thin line. Maggie realized she was trying to hold back tears.

  “Liz, old girl, how are you doing out there?” asked Erika in a hearty voice.

  “It’s not what I’m used to, but I’m managing.” She picked up a guitar. “Hey, Mag. Bet you didn’t know I have my Martin out here. How about a song?”

  She began to strum an old Judy Collin’s song: “Who knows where the time goes.” She stopped in mid-phrase and adjusted the pegs to bring the guitar into tune. “Sorry but it’s hot out here during the summer.�
� She began the song again. Maggie joined in and then Lucy. Liz smiled. “Lucy, you’re too good for this.”

  “No, I’m not,” protested Lucy. Soon the three of them were singing the song, splitting amazing harmonies from the melody as Liz repeated the coda. There was enthusiastic applause after the song ended.

  Emily headed to the piano and began to play “Both Sides Now.”

  “Where did you learn that?” Lucy asked. “It’s decades before your time.”

  “My adoptive mother really liked it. Sing, Maggie.”

  Maggie began to sing, and she saw how Liz’s face changed. Her eyes, looking directly into Maggie’s, became misty.

  “That was wonderful,” said Lucy, patting Maggie on the shoulder and nodding in her daughter’s direction.

  “That’s sweet of you to say, Lucy, but none of us can hold a candle to you,” Maggie said.

  “No disrespect to my beautiful wife and her many talents, but your voice keeps me going, even here in jail,” said Liz. “I’ve been listening to your recordings on YouTube.”

  “I’m glad my voice comforts you, Liz. Would you like me to sing something for you?”

  Liz’s smile of delight was instant and almost childlike. “Marietta’s Lied from Die Tote Stadt?”

  Lucy took out her phone and scanned her playlist to find the accompaniment. When Lucy began to sing, Maggie saw Liz’s eyes close in ecstasy. She knew she could never compete with the talent of this woman. Lucy had a sublime, once in a generation soprano. It was just criminal she had given up the operatic stage.

  “Je t’adore,” said Liz, touching her fingers to her lips when Lucy had finished the aria.