Part 9: Wait for it

The story thus far: The pandemic changed every aspect of life in Pleasant Glen, including the way people kept track of time.

Two weeks.

Julie was used to waiting. Or, at least, she thought she was.

When her daughter Emily went to off college, Julie had learned to wait. She waited for Family Weekend, for Thanksgiving Vacation, for Winter Recess, for Spring Break. She learned that if she was patient, she would be rewarded with some small amount of mother-daughter time, even if it was only a laundry date.

The virus changed all that. Schedules were in a constant state of flux. Plans were made, only to be postponed. Patience was rewarded with more delays.

Julie tried to hide her relief when Emily's school-sponsored Spring Break trip overseas was canceled because of the virus. She tried to hide her disappointment when Emily decided to stay with friends in Chicago during break instead of coming home. Julie tried to hide her relief when the Illinois “stay-at-home” order shut down Rush Street, making Chicago no more attractive or fun than little Pleasant Glen, Iowa.

Then the school announced that classes would be moved online, and Emily's return to Pleasant Glen was assured. Even that relief was short lived.

Since Julie's new job as Miss Irene's delivery girl put her in contact with people at high-risk from the virus, and Emily's grandmother was high-risk because of her age, Emily's homecoming included two weeks of self-quarantine – just to be on the safe side. The very situations that necessitated that quarantine, made finding a place to quarantine challenging.

Fourteen days.

After much fretting, Bob offered the apartment above the Bar as a home (not far) away from home. In lieu of rent, Emily was tasked with making the space fit for habitation by sorting through boxes of memorabilia from bands that had played the Bar over the decades.

Julie was relieved to have her daughter home – or almost home. Julie was disappointed that seeing her daughter up close-ish involved sitting on the rickety fire escape outside the apartment – especially since Julie was afraid of heights.

Eventually Emily's quarantine came to an end, unlike Joe's seemingly endless quarantine – or rather his series of quarantines.

Joe had been caught in New York when the virus struck and left him scrambling to find a flight back to Iowa. Once home, he began a two-week quarantine at his rural Des Moines home/office. Nine days in, his father suffered a heart attack. Joe headed to Arizona to re-start his quarantine and lend socially-distant support from the safety of the detached in-law suite at his sister's house, while his mom temporarily moved to the “big house.”

Joe's father recovered and was discharged by the end of Joe's first week there. By the end of week two, although happy to see his son – from across the yard – Joe's father was more happy to return to his own bed in the guest house. Joe returned to Iowa to begin yet another quarantine – this time in the recently cleared and vacated apartment above The Bar.

Three hundred thirty-six hours.

Since Joe's quarantines were all precautionary or travel-based rather than exposure-based, Julie and Joe bent the rules a little. There was a very private concert with Joe on stage at The Bar and Julie seated at the far end of the building, and a Romeo and Juliet moment with Julie on the landing outside her apartment and Joe at the base of the stairs.

Julie was counting down the days – two – until she could talk with Joe from a distance less than one story. While she waited, she worked. The weekend collection drive for the food pantry had been an overwhelming success and now it all needed to be put away. It was a Monday, and there was work involved, so volunteers were scarce. Julie's lone helper was a high-school age stock boy who hadn't had the good sense to look busy when the manager entered the back room. Jimmy was on loan from the local Mom and Pop grocery which had hosted the food drive, and his main duty was to make sure the store's delivery van was returned A.S.A.P.

They worked quickly – huffing behind their masks – to unload the van and stack the goods in the crowded storage room. They were nearly done when Jimmy received a phone call:

His girlfriend, with whom he had spent the majority of the weekend, had tested positive for the virus.

While the virus had slowed many aspects of Pleasant Glen social life, it had fertilized the already fast and efficient gossip grapevine. Jimmy had just left and Julie was locking up when her phone rang.

“You know what this means.” Miss Irene didn't need to say more. Julie sighed heavily before replying:

“Twenty thousand, one hundred sixty minutes.”

To be continued...

Julie decides a little quarantine time may be just what she needs.