This is a fictional story. All names, places, and viruses are used fictitiously. Resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, past or present, are intentional.
If you haven’t read from the beginning, please start at Chapter 1 here.
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Due Date: 75 days away
She was hot.
Yes, she was pregnant and had put on some weight.
Yes, she literally had a small human growing inside of her.
Yes, her eyes were puffy from an afternoon of restless sleep.
But she was laying facing the other way, the opposite of how she usually slept. Peeking in from the doorway, I didn’t see extra pounds, baby belly, or dark circles. I saw my wife. The woman I married. The mother of my children. The blanket showing off the shape of her hip for me.
After taking her temperature, I had told her to go back to bed. And keep the door closed.
She didn’t question that.
I heated a can of off-brand, chicken noodle soup and poured some ice water for her.
Standing at the door, fever food in hand, peering into her nest, I wondered if she was even still awake.
“Elizabeth,” I whispered, approaching softly, “do you want this?”
She didn’t stir.
“Elizabeth,” I repeated. I set the bowl and glass on her nightstand.
I placed my hand on her shoulder. Even through her dress, I could feel her burning up.
Or maybe it was all in my head. How hot do people get under covers normally?
She rolled over, squinting at me. In a room full of light, her eyes had already adjusted to being closed.
“You can’t be in here,” she said.
“I know.”
“Someone has to watch the kids.”
“I know.”
“No, really. You can’t, if you’ve been with me.”
“I know.”
I did. We’d talked about this moment. If not out loud, like we should have at some point over the past month and a half, we certainly had in the subtext of our conversations. If one of us got sick, the other had to keep our children healthy.
So it was me then.
“You should eat,” I said. “We’ll be outside.”
I made a sign language Y with my hand, held it to my cheek, and mouthed, “Call me.”
Her face relaxed. She rolled back away from me, messing up her blanket as she went. I untucked the part twisted under her back and draped it over her. Kenneth and Shepherd were standing at the doorway when I turned around.
I held up a whisper finger and brought them back out to the living room.
“Come on, guys. We’re going to camp outside tonight.”
“In the tent?” Kenneth said.
“Yep. Go ahead and grab the sleeping bags and pillows from your room. I’ll get everything out from the garage.”
I washed my hands first.
We hadn’t used our tent since last year. It had been too cold and damp. Even in early May, I knew the night would bring a chill and waking up to it could be miserable. I made sure to grab extra blankets from the living room closet.
We spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for the night: building a fire, stashing snacks, running an extension cord out to the tent to keep our phones charged. That’s how I checked in with Liz, more than I should have. She needed the rest, but I wanted her to drink and eat too. I really just wanted her to feel fine in the morning, so we could go back to normal levels of pandemic panic and concern. Marshmallows weren’t the same without Liz.
Three hours after the sun set, I fell asleep with Kenneth on one side of me and Shepherd nestled into my rib cage on the other. I’d stayed up way later than I should have watching YouTube videos of what I should’ve done.
The last I heard from Liz, she texted, “I finished my book.”
