Rumours

Marla was still walking every day, despite the “stay at home” order. Exemptions for exercise and shopping and the like were permitted, so she didn’t feel like she was doing anything wrong by walking Malakai and checking in with her neighbours (so long as she yelled up to them on their porch or in their garden from her safe distance on the sidewalk).

This morning, she had gotten a text message from her granddaughter and couldn’t wait to share. She’d rushed out, having only finished half her tea and not even put on socks, she was so excited to share the news. Her rush was wasted, though, and not only because of the blisters she was developing on her right toe and left heel. She’d done nearly her whole neighbourhood tour, and she hadn’t come across anyone. Not even Mrs Smith was out, and she sat in her rocker, nursing her tea, until the ground froze and stayed solid all day. 

Turning the last corner, the one to her street, Marla was pleased to finally find someone to share her news with. Mr Campanello was pulling plastic grocery bags out of his ancient station wagon. He must have gotten up early to take advantage of the “senior” hours the supermarkets had tacked onto the beginning of their days. 

“Hello, Mr Campanello,” Marla called, hoping not to startle him. Also hoping he wasn’t in too much of a hurry to get ice cream or something else perishable into the fridge.

“Mrs Camps,” he returned the greeting. “How many times do I need to tell you, it’s Paul.”

“One more than I need to tell you I’m Marla.”

“Well, hello, Marla.”

“And good morning, Paul. If you’ll allow me to be nosey, how are the stores looking these days?”

“It’s not noseyness, it’s information gathering,” Paul told her with a conspiratorial wink. “Not too bad, actually, if you get up at the crack of dawn. I even found a pack of toilet paper! Not the nice kind we usually get, but the Mrs will be pleased nonetheless. I can get some for you tomorrow, if you need.”

“Oh, no, but thanks for the offer. Misha, that’s my granddaughter, remember her? She did a run for me, and even on her bike, she got more than I usually would for a month!”

“She’s keeping out of trouble, these days, I hope.”

“She is, indeed. Not like when she was a kid. She’s running a restaurant these days. I think the work keeps her honest. But speaking of, she shared something interesting this morning.”

“Well, now you’ve got my attention. Spill the beans.”

“Misha says, and you’ll forgive the lack of details, that’s all on me, But she says that they’ve found a cure. A real one this time, not like the fish tank stuff people were eating last week.”

“And that is good news, isn’t it!”

“Sure is. You have a great Tuesday, Paul.”

“And you, Marla.”

And with that, Marla and Malakai headed home to do that day’s crossword with a  warmed up cup of tea (Marla) and to take a nap on the sofa with dreams of catching a squirrel (Malakai).

***

Re-gathering the bags of groceries he’d put down while chatting with Marla, Paul headed inside.

“Beth,” he called into their (now a little too large) bungalow, “I’m home.”

“In the kitchen,” she answered, setting down her cup of tea (knowing that she’d need her hands free to put away the new provisions).

Paul bustled into the kitchen, the bags having bumped and scraped across the wallpaper all down the hall. He heaved them up one last time, and set them heavily on the table, before turning to a cupboard, producing a mug, and filling it from the coffeemaker that Beth had left on for him.

Unfurling the first bag (which contained a jumble of mismatched items including celery, a can of evaporated milk, a box of granola bars and a few loose pears that might ripen by the end of the month, if she was lucky) and putting the items away, Beth tried to get the scoop on how things beyond her front door were going.

“How was the store?”

“Hm? Oh, not bad, really.”

“Well, that’s very detailed,” she said, working now on the second bag.

“But you know what? I heard something interesting.”

“On the radio?”

“Oh, no, nothing new there. All of the stats, all the time. You know what it’s like - you’ve been watching the news nonstop since you’ve been cooped up.”

“So are you going to tell me, or not?”

“Of course, dear. It’s really quite something.”

“I’ll bet.”

“You know the lady with the dog?”

“I know many ladies with dogs, but I assume you’re talking about Marla.”

“That’s the one.”

“I hope you kept your distance while you were gossiping.”

“Of course, dear. But it wasn’t gossip, just a neighbourly ‘hello’ and and she passed along something from her daughter. Maybe it was her granddaughter.”

“And then she swore you to secrecy?”

“No, of course not.”

“So, spill the beans.” Beth was leaning back against the counter now, having finished putting away the groceries, and contemplating her own mug of coffee, if only to keep her going through the current conversation.

“Marla says they’ve found a vaccine.”

“You don’t say.” Beth decided in favour of her second warm beverage of the morning. 

***

“Hello?” inquired Sophia, answering the phone in her home office. She hadn’t been getting much work done, but she had rearranged her computer and her TV so she could stay on top of the news about the current situation in the past few days. 

“Soph. It’s me. Beth.”

“How are you doing, sis? Hanging in?”

“Actually, I’ve got good news.”

“You’re getting divorced?”

“No, sis. Not that. About this virus.”

“He got it?”

“No. They’re testing a vaccine. Probably on VIPs for now, but that means-”

“It’s right around the corner for the rest of us. That’s fantastic! You know, I really thought that the stuff the president was going on about last week would be the thing to save us.”

“Until it killed a bunch of people-”

“Ok, so it was a mistake. Even the best scientists do that sometimes. But a vaccine, can you imagine?”

“I know. Just to be able to go for a walk, or go window shopping or eat in a restaurant!”

“It'll be amazing. First weekend we’re out and I’m not working, I’ll drive up, and we can do a barbeque.”

“Deal. You bring the burgers, I’ll bake a cake.”

“Alright, sis, you’ve got yourself a deal. But I better get back to work, you know how it is.”

“Sure, I’ll let you go. Take care of yourself, Soph.”

***

Sophie hadn’t been out of the house in almost three weeks, not that that was unusual for her. Everything from groceries to toilet paper to house paint to IT help could be delivered these days, and her home office even brought her work to her humble abode. But she wasn’t disconnected.

-Joey!

-Yes!

-Good. I hate it when you leave your screen on and walk away.

-I know!

-I just heard something.

-A bear? Owl? Backfiring car? Giraffe singing opera?

-No. About the virus.

-New death count?

-No. They figured it out. They’ve got a vaccine. It’ll be out soon. 

-Dude. That’s awesome. Link?

-Not yet. Still looking for the official word. But my sister heard it straight from the source.

-Dude. That’s awesome. ETA?

-They’re hitting the heavies now, so I assume a couple weeks at the most. Probably less for you, because you’re in a big city. 

-Good news, finally. Thanks for sharing.

***

Joey had sent an email to Joel, his editor, an hour or so before. He was one of the rare people that had been finding the new work-from-home orders an improvement over the regular get-up-in-the-morning, put-on-a-suit (ok, let’s be honest, khakis and a clean polo on a good day), and hang-around-an-office-all-day gig. Sleeping in (after staying up until way-too-late watching the news or playing video games, or finishing an article) and typing up his articles with a fresh mug of coffee, in his pajamas, and on his sofa was way more his speed. He’d met all of his deadlines (for maybe the first time ever) and he’d even made page 3 this week. His phone binged with a response from Joel: “Sounds good. Write it up, get it in by 8 and you’re on the cover tomorrow.”

Joey, strangely without any pre-writing ritual, put his phone on silent, and pulled out his laptop. The words seemed to flow effortlessly, as if they were writing themselves. Within twenty five minutes, he was running his spell-checker. Then he re-read the article, making the cuts he could anticipate Joel demanding, and making his 500 word limit easily. 

He took a final deep breath, made sure he was attaching the correct article to his email, and sent it off, knowing it would make the cut. He’d finally written his cover story.

***

Marla was heading up her driveway again, Malakai in tow. Or, rather, Malakai was heading home for his first meal of the day and dragging Marla along with him. She was never in a hurry to get to the park, to pee, to smell the smells or even to get back inside for breakfast. These days, she couldn't even be convinced to spend a couple minutes in the park. Malakai hadn’t had a good run in ages, and he certainly hadn’t had a chance to chase a squirrel. Maybe Marla was getting old. She sure seemed to need the rest recently, she’d been staying home all the time and seemed particularly anxious. She didn’t smell sick, but maybe she needed a visit to the vet, just to get everything checked out. Malakai didn’t know what he’d do without Marla. She was his person. He needed her.

Finally, heading home, she seemed to pick up a little steam, and even cracked a smile when she saw the paper in the mailbox.

“Mal,” she said scooping up the plastic bag wrapped bundle of paper, “it’s here before us. Isn’t that great?”

He urged her forward, and she relented, opening the door and kicking off her shoes before unhooking Malakai’s leash. He headed for his water bowl and had a quick drink while he waited for his kibble. Marla, however, didn’t take the hint. She sat down at the kitchen table, unwrapped the paper and spread it out in front of her. 

“Call Your Local CVS and Get Vaccinated Today!” the headline implored.

“Mal,” Marla called to him, “wouldn’t you know. They’ve got a vaccine and a cure, in less than a week.”

Thankfully, she got up, got the tupperware of kibble, and filled his bowl before making herself a plate of toast and scrambled eggs. 

***

The next day, Malakai had a long run in the park and chased three squirrels. If he’d been a hair faster, he just might have caught the grey one.