Chapter 3
27 March, 2020
Co. Wicklow, Ireland
Positive COVID-19 Cases: 2,121
Deaths: 22
"Joining us this morning is American author Cassandra Adler," the news anchor said as the TV screen split in half. Cassandra's face filled the other half. "Cassandra, lovely to have you this morning, have you been well?"
She nodded and smiled. "Hello! Yes, I've been well. Its been a bit of an adjustment for us, but we're doing alright."
Andrew sipped his tea as he settled deeper into the cobalt sofa in his front room. The sun was fighting a dense layer of cloud cover outside.
"You just moved to Dublin, didn't you?" the interviewer asked. "How are you finding it?"
Cassandra nodded. "We did, yes. My son and I have really been enjoying it. And we hope to get out and see more of it very soon."
"That's fantastic. Now, your latest book We Are All Born Dying has just come out and its getting rave reviews. Could you give us a quick summary of what it is about?" the anchor asked.
Cassandra nodded and smiled. "Yeah! At its heart its a story about love and connection. It follows a young man who works in memory care as he struggles to come to terms with his own father's diagnosis of dementia and his downhill journey. Its about love and loss and forgiveness as well as family."
"That's something we all could use right about now," the anchor replied. "Could you tell us what inspired you to write this?"
She cleared her throat. "Um, I don't know," she chuckled. "It sort of came to me and I went with it. I found it really interesting to explore the dynamic between father and son. And I also felt like dementia isn't really something that gets a lot of attention or that we know a whole lot about. Its also a sort of love letter to every carer out there who has taken on the extra work of caring for a family member with mental or physical difficulties. I don't think they're given a lot of credit for the sacrifices they make for their loved ones and I wanted to acknowledge them a bit."
The light came in around her head from the window behind her, casting her pale blonde hair in a golden sheen.
"That's very true. Did your experiences with your mother inform any of this piece?" the anchor asked.
Cassandra paused and Andrew could tell she was weighing her words. He tilted his head, waiting for her answer.
"In some ways, yes. But I wasn't really caring for her that much," she responded. "My dad certainly did the bulk of it and I can remember seeing the effect it had on him."
"And how is your family faring so far? They're in the USA, right?"
"Yes. They're doing alright so far, I think. Everyone's healthy and staying home," she answered with a winning smile. "We're very lucky."
"That's good news," the anchor smiled. "I know you've only just released a book, but do you have any others in the works after this?"
She nodded. "I'm always writing," she chuckled. "But having a toddler is an awfully big distraction these days. Fortunately its a distraction I love to have."
"Now, I've been told you are doing an auction of some of your works to raise money for some charities? Could you tell us a bit more about that?" the interviewer asked with a chuckle.
"Absolutely," Cassandra replied. "I'm auctioning off several signed copies of my books and a first draft of Here There Be Dragons, my first novel. All proceeds will go to the Alzheimer Society of Ireland to benefit dementia patients who aren't getting the services they need as easily right now."
"That's fantastic," the anchor said, looking at his notes. "And where can viewers bid on these items?"
"You can bid on them at the Alzheimer Society of Ireland website," she replied.
"And we'll have all of that information on our website, for viewers to learn more," the anchor said. "Cassandra Adler, its been an absolute pleasure. Thanks for joining us this morning."
Andrew turned the TV off and took another sip from his tea. It had begun to go cold. He flicked through his phone to a conversation on Whatsapp as Alex came into the room.
"Morning," his friend yawned, rubbing his eyes. "You're up early."
Andrew shrugged. "I wanted to catch something on the news," he said.
Alex waited for his friend to elaborate but shrugged when he didn't. It was too early to ask questions. "What time do we need to do that charity thing?"
"Mmmm - I think like, two or something," Andrew replied. "Maybe three? I'll have to check." He stretched his long arms over his head and scratched his stomach before standing up. "How are your parents and Pat?"
This time it was Alex's turn to shrug in a non-committal way. "They're OK, I guess. Pat's being extra careful because of Sam. But that's kind of it."
Both men had been doing circles around the real issue for weeks. The world seemed to be falling apart around them but neither one of them really wanted to admit what was going on. They were still in shock, hopeful that it was temporary and would pass soon.
"That's good. Mum said Dad's had a cough for a few days, but he's getting better. So I don't think its COVID," Andrew replied. "At least I hope its not." He suppressed another yawn.
The idea of his father catching the virus terrified him. The wheelchair already put him at a disadvantage. The news reports were saying the average age of patients being admitted to hospital was sixty-two. Both of his parents were knocking on that door. The fear had kept his mind turning late at night several times now.
"I'm sure he'll be fine," Alex said. "He's strong. Its probably just a regular cold."
"Yeah. We're all just a bit paranoid now, you know?" Andrew answered.
"I hear that," Alex answered, sipping from his own mug. "Did you make any progress on that song you've been obsessing over?"
Andrew rolled his head on his shoulders. "A bit. But it doesn't feel like its gonna stick."
Also you've been too distracted to actually write, he reminded himself.
"That sucks. Sorry, man," Alex said, looking at his phone. "You've got a whole notebook full of ideas though. There's bound to be a few winners in there somewhere."
His friend was right; the notebook was full to the brim with ideas. Lyrics and phrases and music filled every page of every line, with a few absentminded doodles thrown in for good measure. He'd spent the entire tour putting any ideas he had in the journal and now he was mining for gold between the leather covers.
"I'm gonna head out for a walk. I'll be back in a bit," Andrew said, taking his half-empty mug and leaving the room.
"See you later," Alex called after him.
He made his way through the house to the back door, sliding on a pair of sneakers and grabbing a thick coat from the hooks on the wall. He shoved a stocking hat over his unruly hair and walked out into the chilly late-March morning. The wind immediately whipped over his unshaven face, sending a shiver down his spine. He pulled a pair of gloves over his fingers and took his phone out of his pocket, returning to the Whatsapp conversation from before.
He scrolled through it as he walked down the driveway. Over the past week and a half, he and Cassandra - Cassie - had been talking. Their conversations were short with sporadic responses on her end (toddlers had a way of being distracting, so he'd been told), but they were enough of a distraction to keep his spirits up.
How do you manage to write when on tour? Doesn't the performing exhaust you? she'd asked last night.
He'd waited to respond on purpose. They'd passed the standard niceties a week ago and left Instagram after a few days, at his insistence. He wasn't sure about her, but he didn't need his management team reading their conversations with her when they logged on to post something on his behalf. Caroline and Maddie were generally fairly discreet, but it still felt strange, like they were looking over his shoulder at everything he'd typed.
Andrew paused at a bench along the empty road and sat down, ignoring the gust of wind that ripped through him again. The air was crisp and clear and the sun was shining overhead. The road was empty and he could actually hear the birds twittering in the tree branches that hung out over the pavement. In the last two weeks, the country had slowly ground to a halt. It was strange to see his normally-quiet neighborhood go truly silent.
He opened the chat again and typed out a response.
It does, but its also oddly inspiring too. I think its because I'm in a near-constant state of hyper-creativity since I'm performing every night, so I'm getting hit with all sorts of ideas all the time. I might hear a riff from a band mate of mine or read a line from a book or poem and get inspired. Or some major event could happen that gives me an idea.
It was a long response and he thought about deleting it. But Cassie seemed genuinely curious about his methods, just as he was about hers. He'd first seen her work at an airport, of all places. It was in the 'Bestseller' section at a Hudson News during his first album tour and he'd been intrigued by the cover. He spent the next four hours on a cross-country flight fully engrossed in the world and characters she'd created, in lieu of the nap he should have taken.
Mind Palace had been one of his favorite books at the time. It was a thriller that manipulated his emotions so perfectly, he almost hated it. When he found out the author was only nineteen and had three other books out, he immediately felt horribly inadequate. Since then, he'd followed her career at a distance, picking up whichever new work she released and devouring it as soon as he could.
When he saw that she was doing a Live on Instagram, he thought he'd join in. The question had sort of slipped out and the second he sent it, he wanted to take it back. The last thing he wanted was to stir the pot with rumors about the two of them. Fortunately, she hadn't mentioned he'd asked anything and he was grateful for it. Nobody in the feed seemed to notice or say anything, but he was sure someone in his fan base would see it at some point.
For the last week and a half, they'd exchanged questions about their influences and favorites. She'd given him a few new books to read and he'd gotten her into Willie Dixon and John Lee Hooker. It was nice to have someone else to talk to besides Alex and his other friends. Sure they were all in the same boat, sat at home bored. But at least he didn't know everything about Cassie yet. Talking with her was exciting and invigorating in an otherwise-monotonous day.
His phone vibrated in his hand and he looked at it. She'd replied.
I guess I'm kind of the same way. I get inspired randomly all the time. I actually have a notebook that I just chuck all my ideas in and go back to when its full. Its easier that way. Messy as fuck, but easier.
He chuckled.
I'm the same way, except its a bit more organized, I think. Well, I hope anyway. I can understand it, at least.
Andrew stood and continued walking for a few minutes, enjoying the way the crisp air filled his lungs fully with each breath. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out.
Lucky. I can only ever read half of what I've written. It usually looks like random scrawls. I'm left guessing most of the time. I think my sleep paralysis demon draws in it at night.
A truck roared past him on the main road and he jumped slightly at the sudden explosion of noise. After a moment, he continued, pulling the cloth mask from his pocket as a couple began walking toward him on the footpath. He secured it over his nose and mouth quickly, giving them a nod as they passed. His glasses fogged up slightly and he took the mask off as soon as they were away from him.
Well whatever you manage to discern from your notes always manages to turn into something brilliant. You haven't gone wrong yet. He answered.
He made his way back home, enjoying the way the breeze blew the tree branches around, rustling the new leaves that were beginning to sprout on each bough. He let himself into the house with a gust of wind, fighting to close the door. His phone vibrated again as he walked inside.
This is a new record, he thought. Five messages in one day.
"That was a short walk," Alex replied, making Andy jump as he hung up his coat. "I figured you'd be gone for at least another fifteen minutes."
Andrew shrugged and ran his hand through his hair. "I got cold."
Alex took notice of Andrew's phone in his hand. "You've been glued to that thing the last couple days."
"And?" Andrew asked bristling as he opened the refrigerator and grabbing an apple.
Alex shrugged this time. "I don't know. Its just...usually you aren't so...attached to your phone, that's all."
Andrew relaxed a little. "Yeah. Its...I've just been trying to keep up with the news and everything. Things keep changing every day. I don't want to miss anything," he explained.
His friend didn't believe him. "Uh huh."
"What?" Andrew demanded. He bit into the apple with a loud crunch.
"Nothing!" Alex chuckled. "I just...since when do you get up early to watch interviews on TV?"
Andrew shrugged. "I wanted to see this one. I've read a few of her books. That's all."
Alex smirked and tilted his head. "Really?"
Andrew rolled his eyes. "Yes," he answered with a sigh. "I just like her work. I figured it was a decent distraction from the apocalypse outside."
"Fair enough," Alex answered. Andrew started to walk out of the room. "Oh - uh, did you decide what we're doing for the charity thing this afternoon?"
He stopped and turned, biting into his apple again. "Uh..." He chewed for a moment. "Let's do Cherry Wine, Eden, and Shrike. We can add in a cover or two as well. Should be enough."
"Right. Sounds good," Alex called after him.
Andrew took the stairs two at a time and rounded the newel post at the top. The wood floors creaked slightly under him as he walked down the hall to his bedroom. His bed was a welcome sight as soon as he opened the door. He collapsed into it with a heavy sigh. Before he knew it, he was fast asleep. He startled awake several hours later with Alex standing over him.
"Get up. We've gotta get warmed up for the charity thing," Alex said, nudging his shoulder.
Andrew rubbed his eyes and nose. "Mmhmmm. Yeah," he muttered inhaling sharply. "Yeah. I'm up."
"See you downstairs," Alex said before disappearing.
He yawned and sat up, rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles. He went into his bathroom and splashed water on his face, blinking rapidly as he felt the chill on his skin. He looked into the mirror over the sink as he wiped his face with a towel. A couple weeks' worth of scruff had grown into a gingery-brown beard over his jaw line. Dark circles sat on the undersides of his eyes from nights spent scrolling through news reports on his phone instead of sleeping.
He pulled open a drawer in the vanity and took out a bottle of eye drops. He put several drops in each eye, blinking rapidly. It was a trick he'd learned on his very first press tour - eye drops removed redness and made him look well-rested, even when he'd been going on four hours of sleep for three days straight.
This would be the fourth charity event that he'd done since the pandemic started. It gave him a sense of purpose to know that he was helping these organizations out. It helped silence the voice in his head that told him he was powerless every single day. He might not be working in healthcare or researching the virus or solving any of the other problems in the world, but at least he was doing something.
Alex had originally planned to stay for a couple days to work on new material for the next album but when the virus began gaining traction, they decided he should stay for a couple weeks until things cooled down. Except things only seemed to be heating up. It ended up being a blessing in disguise to have Alex stay, though. They'd been able to get some work done and he came in handy when Andrew agreed to do some charity streams. Plus the companionship was nice as well.
He enjoyed having his friend around even more, now that he couldn't go out and meet other people. Or go see his parents. The last time he'd seen them, they'd braved the cold March winds and sat on the patio behind their house for an hour, wearing fabric masks over their noses and mouths, shivering in their coats. He was too scared to hug either of them for fear that he might somehow pass COVID-19 on to them. The only other socialization he had was when he rushed into Tesco or Dunne's for groceries and that was always hurried and cautious.
His friends in America had told him how chaotic it was over there. People were fighting each other over toilet roll and hand sanitizer. It was turning into an every-man-for-themselves scenario and it was genuinely terrifying for him. He'd even asked Cassie if she knew anything about the situation since some of her family was still in Ohio, but she couldn't tell him much more beyond what was reported on the news.
Andrew had spent several days wondering if he should just have his parents move in with him, just so he'd know that they were safe. But his house wasn't set up for his dad's wheelchair and he lived further from hospitals than his parents did. Even if he could somehow reconfigure the house, they'd have to move everything his dad needed over as well. It was just more than they could manage on their own without proper movers.
The charity stream was fairly painless and straightforward. He played a couple songs and answered a couple questions and within half an hour it was over and he was left with a sense of accomplishment he knew he didn't deserve. Alex went to start dinner - they alternated who cooked each night now - and Andrew pulled his phone out to call his parents. They'd started daily calls to try to keep up morale, but so far all it had done was depress him. Seeing his parents and the uncertainty on their faces made him feel useless. But the daily conversations seemed to brighten their spirits, so he wasn't about to take that away from them. He caught sight of a notification from his conversation with Cassie and opened it.
That's nice of you. My editor agrees even though I always feel like I'm releasing total shit.
He smiled and typed a reply.
Nah. That's not true. Your editor probably has the easiest job in publishing.
His mum answered on the second ring when he called her. She was sitting in the front room and Andrew could see the last family photo they'd taken together on the wall behind her. It was from the week before Church had blown up. The last time his life had ever been "normal".
"Hey, Mum," he said, forcing a smile. "How are things?"
His mother sighed heavily. "They're...they're alright, I suppose."
Andrew blinked, his interest piqued. "What? What's wrong?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. Dad's doing better now. His cough is better."
He nodded. "That's good, right?"
"Of course," she said.
"So what's wrong, Mum? Is something else going on? Are you OK?" he asked. "Do you need anything?"
His mother shook her head. "No, no. Nothing like that. It's just...its been an adjustment. Your father can't see his physio. So his back has been bad. I thought he had an appointment this morning, but they had to push it because of the virus. I guess one of the people got ill so they shut everything down."
He sighed and ran his hand over his face. His father's physiotherapy appointments helped control his pain immensely. Without them, he'd become more reliant on pain medication. "I'm sure things will get back to normal as soon as they can. Its only temporary."
She sighed and rubbed her eye under her glasses. "Yes, I'm sure it is. They didn't reschedule the appointment, though."
"I'm sure they'll phone you when things settle down. Is Dad OK?" he asked.
"For now. But you know how he gets when he misses his appointments," she answered.
Another wave of hopelessness washed over Andrew for a moment as he realized there wasn't much he could do. He tried to change the subject. "How - how's Jon? I've been texting him, but he doesn't respond."
"Oh, you know him. He's always busy with some project. I talked to him last night," she replied with a dismissive wave. "He's been working on a script or a project and was sucked into a writing wormhole or something. At least, that's what he said. Could be drugs for all I know."
He laughed. "I'm sure he's just writing. I'll give him a call tomorrow."
"How are you keeping?" she asked. "Is Alex still with you?"
"Ehm, yeah. We're doing fine, I suppose. Just doing some writing," he answered. "We played a thing for a charity a little while ago."
"How long is he staying with you?"
"I dunno. We haven't really talked about it," Andrew sighed. "I figure he'll leave when he wants to."
"That's good. I'm glad you've got someone over there with you," she said. "But I'd feel better if you were here with us."
He sighed again. "Mum, there's not enough space."
"They're talking about going into lockdown, Andrew," she said. He could hear the uncertainty in her voice. "We might not be able to see each other. You should come here and Alex should go to his family."
"Mum, relax. Everything will be alright. I know you're worried. But I promise, everything will be fine," he assured her.
His mother sighed. "That's what your brother said last night."
"Even better for me not to come stay with you," he replied. "If Jon were there, there'd definitely be no space. We'd have to share a room. No offense, Mum, but I'm not ten any more."
"Can you blame me for wanting my children under the same roof when there's a pandemic on?" she countered, annoyance rising in her voice.
"Okay, okay," he relented. "I hear you. Look, I'm fine here. We're taking precautions. We're not going anywhere unnecessary. We're wearing masks, washing hands, all that. I'm grand here, Mum. Don't worry."
"Its my job to worry, Andrew," she answered with a sigh.
"Mum, relax a bit. Give it a couple weeks and I bet everything will be back to normal," he said. He watched her nod and heard her sigh of frustration. "Is there anything you need me to do? I can go to the shops and drop things off at your door so you don't need to leave the house."
"No, no. We don't need anything. We're alright," she replied. "Would be nice if we could get a new appointment for Dad's physio, but that's out of our control."
"Let me see what I can do, okay?" he said. "I've gotta go, Mum. Talk tomorrow."
He ended the call and ran his hands over his face. The sun was starting to set outside, sending golden light through his front window. He dragged his fingers through his hair and rolled his head on his shoulders, his mind still focused on his parents. The sounds and smells of cooking drifted into the room from the kitchen and he could hear Alex on his own phone call.
Andrew walked through the house as quietly as he could, the old hard wood floors creaking slightly. Alex stood at the stove, phone in hand, as he stirred a pot of something with the other. Andrew looked over his shoulder and gestured that he could take over so Alex could finish his call. It looked as though his friend was cooking a stew of some sort. Potatoes and leeks floated in the pale goldenrod broth. Several chunks of meat bobbed up and down as the liquid boiled.
This had been their nightly ritual since Alex had moved in. After a day of writing (or whatever the hell they got up to), one of them would cook dinner and they'd sit at the table and talk about anything but the world crumbling around them. The person who didn't cook had to do the washing up. It would have been a nice existence if he was sharing it with his wife or girlfriend, but with Alex, it just felt sad.
Andrew heard Alex end the phone call and looked up. "How's your mum?"
Alex nodded and adjusted his glasses. "She's fine. Just worried. Apparently the Taoiseach is doing a press conference or something tonight. Big announcement, I guess."
"My mum seems to think they're announcing a lockdown or something," Andrew said. "Is this finished?" he asked, nodding to the pot.
Alex shook his head. "Needs another twenty minutes. How's your mum?"
Andrew walked around the island and sat on the black bar stool, letting his long legs dangle toward the floor. "Dad's physio appointment was canceled. They haven't made a new one. If we're going into a lockdown, Mum thinks they might not make a new one."
Alex hissed. "Shit, that's bad. How's your dad?"
"She said he's fine for now, but if he doesn't have his therapy appointments, he'll have to go back to pills to manage things," Andrew sighed, running his hands over his face. "I think I'm gonna see if I can find a physio that makes house calls or something."
Alex nodded and several minutes passed in silence. Andrew saw a new notification from WhatsApp. Cassie had responded.
That's for more generous than I deserve. There are still things I want to change about the stuff I have out.
Andrew shook his head. He knew the feeling. Walking away from a completed song was always hard because he was never quite sure when it was finished. He had to learn when to step away over the years. He replied.
I know that feeling. Its so hard to know when to step away. My first producer basically refused to continue to work with me if I kept making changes. I remember being so nervous about the album and thinking it had to be absolutely perfect before anyone could hear it.
He exited the conversation and pulled up a search for physiotherapists. He had no idea where to start and the idea overwhelmed him. After scanning his phone screen for a moment, he gave up and clicked it off.
"The Taoiseach's thing is on at seven. Want to watch it?" Alex asked, reaching into one of the dark green cabinets for a pair of bowls.
"We should, yeah," Andrew answered. "My mum's all freaked out, so at least I'll know what she's up about."
Alex doled out two bowls of stew, sat two spoons on the granite work top, and sat next to him at the island. The two men ate in relative silence until Alex spoke again.
"Hey, d'you remember that show in Cologne in that church?" he asked. "Last year?"
Andrew thought for a moment, trying to place the memory. Then it hit him. It was an intimate show in a 19th century neogothic church. The acoustics had been incredible and he'd loved looking at the architecture before the show.
"What about it?" he asked his friend, chasing a lump of potato around his bowl.
"Do you remember when that girl threw her knickers on stage?" Alex asked.
Andrew blinked before the memory crashed into his mind, making him burst into laughter. "Oh Jesus, yeah. I totally forgot!" he exclaimed.
"They were cute, though," Alex chuckled. "Almost makes me wish we'd found out who they belonged to."
Andrew nodded in agreement. "I dunno. Maybe not knowing is a bit better. She could have been a total minger. Maybe its best to just leave that one unknown," he laughed.
"True," Alex agreed. "I don't understand the logic in it, though. Like...why toss them up on stage? Is it supposed to get your attention?"
"Presumably," Andrew sighed. "If they knew how little time we had on tour, they'd probably think twice though. Save 'em instead of throw 'em."
"I hear that," Alex smiled.
"Yeah, last tour, I barely had time for a piss each day," Andrew chuckled. "If I had five minutes to myself, it sure as fuck wouldn't have been spent with a woman, no matter how nice her knickers were."
Tour life was grueling. Exhaustion caused days to blend into one another and you didn't realize how much you depended on your tour manager and all the tour staff to keep you organized until you were on the ass-end of a four-show streak with your only day off spent flying across the world. The highs from stage were amazing, but the lows hit the hardest.
"This is good," Andrew remarked, nodding to his mostly-empty bowl. "Where'd you get the recipe?"
His friend shrugged. "Dunno. Just put shit in a pot. Figured it can't be too hard to make."
Andrew ducked his head and slurped the remaining broth from the bowl. "Well, you make a hell of a stew."
"I'll add it to the rotation," Alex chuckled. After a second, he spoke. "Uh...how much longer do you think you'll need me here?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Ehm...d-do you want to leave?" Andrew asked, pushing away from the island and standing.
"No!" Alex said quickly. "I-I just wanted to know if you had any other stuff booked for us. I thought I might go back to the city, you know, to check on a few things with my place."
"Right. If they do a lockdown, you'll be stuck here," Andrew grabbed both of their bowls and moved to the sink. "No, its fine. I'll - maybe I'll take a whack at getting some more writing done while you're gone. No worries."
"Are you sure? I'll probably only be gone for a couple days," Alex said.
"Yeah, go for it. Its fine," Andrew assured him. "You've already stayed way longer than you needed to. It'll be grand."
Alex nodded. "Its not like I'm leaving the country. Just going into the city. If you need me again, I can come back."
"Yeah. No big deal," Andrew replied, offering his friend a smile as he loaded the dishwasher. He tried to ignore the uncertainty surrounding the potential isolation.
"Cool. I'll - uh...I'll go pack," Alex said.
Andrew emptied the pot of its contents into a storage container and left it on the work top to cool. He loaded the remaining dishes into the sink and began to fill it with warm water and dish soap. The bubbles rose up quickly, filling the air with an artificial floral scent. He dipped his hands into the suds and started scrubbing. He found the process of washing the dishes oddly therapeutic. It was mindless and he didn't need to focus completely whilst he did it. The sound of running water was soothing as he ran the rough sponge over the cutting board before putting it on the rack to dry. He let his mind wander back to the night Alex had mentioned earlier.
Alex hadn't seen the woman, but he had. She'd been a tall, thin brunette with brown eyes and an easy smile. The whole night, he'd kept an eye on her, watching her reactions to songs. If he'd thought more, he'd have invited her back to his room. But he didn't. He'd been too self-conscious to say anything. Even in a surefire scenario, he still couldn't close the deal.
He finished washing up and wiped his hands on a tea towel. He saw his phone light up on the island and reached for it. It was a text from his brother, asking if he knew anything about their father's physio appointments. Andy answered with what their mother told him, but didn't provide any other information. He was halfway through asking how the script was coming along when Alex came back.
"All packed?" he asked, tucking his phone into his pocket.
"Yep. I'll probably head out in the morning," Alex replied, running his fingers through his hair.
"Cool. Sounds good," Andrew nodded.
Alex paused in the doorway. "Are you sure you'll be alright here on your own?"
Andrew rolled his eyes. "Fuck, you sound like my mum."
Alex sighed dramatically. "Fine. Stay out here in the countryside by yourself in your giant house where nobody will find you for years after you die," he joked. "Maybe you should get a cat so it'll eat your face or something."
"That's disgusting," Andrew laughed. "Why would I get a cat if it would do that?"
Alex shrugged. "I'm not sure. At least then your body gets used for something other than maggot food."
Andrew shivered at the thought of insects crawling over his skin. "I'm not going to die here all alone," he insisted. "I'll be fine."
"I'll be back in a week anyway," Alex said. "You think I like being all alone in my flat in Dublin?" He walked through the house to the front room. "Besides, you have a fucking swimming pool and no neighbors so we can jam as loud as we want."
"Right - is your man in the flat below still banging on the ceiling?" Andrew asked, settling on the sofa.
Alex sighed. "Unfortunately." Andrew turned on the TV. "Am I a terrible person for wishing this thing would just take him out?"
Andrew tilted his head. "Ehm...I wouldn't say that out loud to anyone else," he chuckled.
Alex nodded. "Right."
"I mean, you're not wrong, like," Andrew laughed. "The man's a giant ass."
Alex smirked. "When he saw me leave with my bags, I think he may have been praising God."
Andrew laughed again. Alex's downstairs neighbor was a cantankerous old man who lived by himself with three cats. He'd complain about noise anytime Alex would walk, let alone play any instruments. They'd had an ongoing battle for years; the old man would bang on the ceiling at the slightest noise and Alex would run the hoover at six in the morning periodically. At this point it was really a battle of wills as to who would last longer.
The channel covering the press conference was playing a series of interviews from doctors and politicians discussing the state of the country and world. Covid-19 numbers were rising across the globe and the WHO was making regular statements, listing out precautions. There was a ticker of case numbers by country running along the bottom of the screen. Andy's phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it as the Taoiseach came on and the press conference began. The Taoiseach walked in front of the cameras and stepped up to a podium.
"Good evening everyone," he greeted the reporters. "Tonight I want to speak to you about the next stage of our national response to the Coronavirus Emergency. And I want to start by expressing my condolences to the families and friends of the three people that passed away today, one of whom we understand was a healthcare worker."
"Jeysus," Alex said under his breath. "Three more."
The Taoiseach continued, thanking everyone at home for continuing to abide by the public healthcare directives.
"At the beginning of this emergency, I told you there would be difficult days ahead," he continued. "We knew that the virus would spread in our country, that tragically, many of our citizens would suffer, and that some would not survive." The room was silent as the man continued to speak. "I said that we'd do all that we could to protect the health of our citizens, to prepare our Health Service and support our healthcare staff, to try to cushion the blow to our economy, our businesses, and your livelihoods."
Andrew stared past the Taoiseach, at the dark emerald background behind him, his words going unregistered.
"Today, with cross-party support, the Rialtas has passed further emergency legislation. This will help businesses to keep their staff in work, increase social welfare payments to those who have lost their jobs as a consequence of the emergency - including the self-employed - and payments under these new schemes have already commenced. In addition to that, rents are frozen, and there will be no evictions."
Alex let out a noise stuck between a cheer and a sob and Andrew smirked without looking over at him.
"When I spoke to you on St. Patrick's Day, I said that more actions would be required in the coming weeks to slow the spread of the virus," the politician continued. "Over this month, we've seen the numbers of people falling ill increase every day, and we've seen loved ones and colleagues die." Andrew felt a small ball of nerves begin to collect in his stomach. "Guided by the expert advice of our Public Health Emergency Team, led by the Chief Medical Officers, we believe that now is the time for these further actions."
Andrew's stomach dropped in anticipation of the announcement. His heart began to race. He dug his finger nails into his palms.
"I said there would be a calm before the storm," the Taoiseach continued. "And the aim of every single action we've taken is to reduce the impact of the storm in our country. To slow the virus down, to push it back, and to contain it. Throughout all this, the government has acted on the advice of the Chief Medical Officer and the National Public Health Emergency Team, an expert team of public health doctors, virologists, and scientists."
Andrew felt the nerves in his palms scream slightly at the pain, but he ignored it.
"Today, they informed the government that the number of confirmed cases has now exceeded two thousand one hundred, that sadly, the number of deaths' is now twenty-two, and there is a day-on-day increase in the number of admissions to Intensive Care Units - in fact, the number has doubled since Monday," the politician paused for a moment. "Transmission in the community now accounts for more than half of all cases, and there continues to be an increasing number of clusters - many of which are in nursing homes and residential care settings."
"Fuck me, two thousand?" Andrew heard himself say. Two thousand cases in about a month. And it was growing daily. The Taoiseach continued.
"Earlier today, the government received further recommendations on the actions that we need to take to protect our people. These are in addition to all the existing measures that are already in place." The room went totally silent in anticipation of the leader's next words. "So with effect from midnight tonight, for a two-week period, until Easter Sunday April twelfth, everybody must stay at home in all circumstances, except for the following situations..."
Andrew went deaf and his ears began to ring. The words drowned out and his stomach sank. They were really locking everyone down. The country was fully coming to a standstill. For two weeks. Anxiety began to rise up in his chest, clenching down on his heart.
"I need some air," he said hurriedly, standing and rushing into the courtyard off the back door. He didn't give Alex a chance to respond.
The cold night air hit his lungs so hard that it sucked the oxygen from them. He struggled to breathe, taking big gulps of air as his eyes watered.
Breathe. Inhale, exhale, he thought. Its two weeks. Just two weeks.
Darkness had fallen and the silence was eerie. He could hear the TV still going in the front room, the Taoiseach's voice drifting through the open door. The cold from the cobblestone was seeping through his thick socks. He focused on the cold, feeling it rise through the fabric and settle on his skin in pinpricks. It spread slowly, moving across the soles of his feet like ice melting.
"Andrew?" Alex's voice startled him and he spun around.
"Y-yeah?" he asked, forcing a smile.
"You alright?" his friend asked skeptically. "You're not wearing shoes."
"Yeah, I'm...I'm fine. Just needed some air," he replied. "What's up?"
"I was gonna head home tonight instead," Alex said, thumbing the air over his shoulder.
"Right - yeah, you should, with the lockdown and all that," Andrew said, crossing his arms over his chest. The chill was starting to creep up his legs to his knees and nip at his chest through his jumper.
Alex paused. "Are you sure you're okay? I don't have to go."
Andrew shook his head. "Don't worry about me. I'll be grand. Go home and check on things. Its just two weeks," he insisted, forcing another smile.
"Sure," Alex said. "Well, I'll phone when I get in."
"Yeah," Andrew answered. "Safe home."
Alex nodded and disappeared back into the house, leaving the door open. Andrew looked at the empty space where his friend had been standing a moment beforehand. He sighed and ran his hands over his face. The anxiety had been getting worse each day. The lack of control he had on everything around him was driving him mental. A fox cried in the field behind his house, bringing his attention back around.
After a shuddering, cleansing breath, he stepped back inside and shut the door after himself. The heat from the house felt good against his frozen skin and slowly, he began to regain feeling in his extremities. The house was silent and dark and he had a sudden urge to fill it with light and sound.
He went room by room, flipping light switches and turning on lamps. He stopped in his study and turned on his record player, selecting several records from the bookshelf and setting them on the table. A moment later, the sounds of The Staple Singers drifted out of the speakers. He relaxed slightly and sank into a armchair by the window, enjoying the way the buttery brown leather felt on his palms.
He jumped slightly when he got a notification on his phone. It was too soon for it to be Alex, so he figured it was probably Jon or another friend. To his surprise, it was Cassie.
Did you see that press conference? she asked.
He sighed and answered. Yeah. Its mad. Two weeks of lockdown.
And then suddenly his phone was ringing - a video call was coming through from her. Andrew scrambled to turn the volume down on the sound system. He answered quickly and her face appeared on his screen, surprised and slightly embarrassed.
"Oh - sorry. I didn't - clumsy thumbs," she said sheepishly.
Her blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she worse a pair of black square-rimmed glassed that made her bright blue eyes stand out. A slight blush colored her cheeks.
"It's fine," he chuckled. "Probably easier than texting."
She relaxed slightly. "Right," she said, an awkward silence passing between them. "So...hi," she chuckled nervously.
"Hi," he sighed with a smile. "How are you?"
"Tired," she answered, stifling a yawn. "I've got a deadline on Monday and I'm short about two hundred pages."
"Jesus," he answered, letting out a low whistle. "Well, maybe now you can ask for an extension or something," he offered.
"I'm gonna have to," Cassie said. "I can't seem to get more than a couple hundred words done a day, with Finn here."
For the first time, he remembered she had a child. It was hard to see her as a mother because she was so young. Hearing her talk about him made him real.
"Right," he commented. "How is he doing?"
"So far he seems fine. But its getting harder to keep him entertained," she sighed. "I feel like a terrible mother for letting him just stare at the TV all day. But what am I supposed to do, you know? I need to get this stuff done."
"Could you get someone in to watch him during the day?" he asked.
"I could," she replied. "But I just...I worry that having someone come in and out of the house all the time would be exposing us too much. And I don't know anyone well enough here to have them move in."
"What about your parents? Or...?" he asked. Cassie shifted uncomfortably and he panicked. "Shit, I - I'm sorry. I didn't..."
"No, its fine," she answered. "One of the reasons I left England was because I wanted to do this on my own. I feel like its too much to ask. Plus, its just two weeks. By the time they got over here and settled, it wouldn't be worth them coming."
"Right," he said, glad she hadn't been put off by his mistake. "Two weeks."
"How have you been handling things?" Cassie asked. "How is your family?"
Andrew raked his fingers through his hair. "They're fine - well, mostly. My dad's physiotherapy appointments have been postponed. He needs them to help manage his pain. Even two weeks of missing them can cause really big issues."
"Is there anything you can do to help out? Maybe you could go stay there for the next two weeks," she suggested.
He shook his head. "There's not enough space. He needs a physio that will come to the house. I tried to look for one earlier, but there's way too many things to filter through. If I could find one, I'd feel a hell of a lot better about how things are right now."
Cassie blinked and tilted her head. "I know one," she said simply.
Andrew's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you serious?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Uh - he's the dad of a kid in Finn's class."
"Does he make house calls?" he asked, his mood picking up slightly.
"I think so. He has his own practice in Monkstown, but I'm pretty sure he's told me he's done house calls in the past," she answered. "I could get you his number if you like."
"Fuck, Cassie, that would be fantastic," he said eagerly, relief rushing through him. Finally he at least had some type of control over something. "You have no idea how much that would help."
"Sure," she answered. "Let me send it to you."
Her screen went blank for a moment as she sent the message. His phone vibrated and he saw the contact info in their conversation. She reappeared a moment later.
"Thank you so much, Cassie," he sighed. "I'll have a look at that later."
She smiled. "Its no big deal. I'm sure he will be happy to help. He seems like a pretty sound guy."
"Yeah, hopefully," Andrew replied. There was a lull in the conversation as they stared at each other through the screen. "Did you watch the press conference?" he asked, realizing as soon as the words were out of his mouth that he'd asked that already. A blush rose on his cheeks. "Sorry," he chuckled, slightly embarrassed.
"Its fine," she laughed lightly. "I have the memory of a gnat at the moment, so I probably would have forgotten anyway," she ran her fingers through her hair.
"That bad, huh?" he asked.
"It feels like I'm crawling through sludge in January. Frozen sludge," she groaned.
He chuckled. "It can't be that horrible."
Cassie sighed. "Andrew, I'm two hundred pages short," she chuckled wryly. "I'm beginning to think there's no saving it."
"I figured you'd be doing press for the latest book," he remarked. "I didn't think you'd be writing again so soon."
"Yeah, its a weird arrangement I have with my publisher," she answered with another sigh. She ran her fingers over her eye lids, underneath her glasses.
"I didn't think authors got a lot of pressure on releases unless it was for a series," he said.
"I've been with the same publishing house since I started," Cassie explained. "When I signed, they asked me if I had any other pieces in the works. My agent told them about this notebook I had, full of ideas - the one I mentioned before. And they got really excited. I didn't sign a multi-book deal, but they basically said as long as I keep it coming, they'll do the rest. So its been a pretty steady amount of work for me."
"That sounds exhausting," he chuckled. "I don't know how you keep that pace up."
She shrugged. "Its nice to have the distraction of work most days. Especially..." she stopped talking.
Andrew tilted his head slightly in anticipation. It was as though she caught herself before saying something else. When she didn't say anything else, he assumed she'd forgotten what she was going to say.
"My label never pressures me for anything, thankfully," he said. "I get to work at my pace, at least."
"That's nice," Cassie said. "I mean, they aren't pressuring me for anything. But they sort of built their whole release schedule around my newest piece, so they kind of want it done, you know?"
"Ah. Yeah, that's problematic," he smiled. "Well it sounds like they're just going to have to wait."
"Guess so," she answered. A pause came to their conversation. "Um - what - what are you doing?"
"Oh - just listening to music," he said. "My friend, Alex, had been staying here for the last couple weeks and he left after the press conference. So I'm just adjusting to being alone again."
"Oh OK," another pause. "Uh...what are you listening to?" she asked.
He reached over to pick up the sleeve. "The - uh...Staple Singers." He held the sleeve up for her to see. "Its a good one. You should give it a bash."
Cassie stifled a sudden yawn behind her palm. "Wow, sorry," she apologized. "I've just been up since, like, six AM. You're not boring, I promise," she added with a nervous chuckle.
"You should get to sleep," he smiled gently.
"Yeah, I think I will," she answered. "It was nice to finally chat," she smiled.
"Definitely," he said. "Maybe...maybe we could chat again another time. Its certainly faster and easier than texting," he chuckled lightly. "We've probably said more to each other in the last five minutes since we first started chatting."
Cassie laughed lightly and he noticed how the mole beneath her nose disappeared into her laugh lines.
"For sure. Its nice to talk to an adult," she said. "Goodnight, Andrew."
"Night."