Quaranteam

Quarantine started right after I moved to Portland. It was unfortunate timing given that I’d moved across the country on my own and was living without roommates for the first time. I was more alone than I’d ever been in my life. What was supposed to be a fun adventure was turning into a free fall and just when I thought I had hit rock bottom I found that I could fall further.

I was okay at first. I worked remotely and stayed kind of on a schedule. Every morning I changed from my night PJs to my day PJs. I stayed online for about 8 hours, then would go outside for some fresh air, call a friend and cook dinner. While it felt a little rough, it truly wasn’t that bad. Work was keeping me busy and sane. 

Business had slowed down so I should have expected being furloughed, but I was frankly blindsided when it happened. The call came two weeks into the crisis. A sinking feeling overtook me - what would I do with all of this time alone? 

Things went...downhill from there. I found most simple things to be very complicated. I was starting to have a pretty tenuous grasp on sanity. Getting up from bed felt like climbing Mt. Everst. Washing my face took every last ounce of energy I had. I would begin to berate myself for not doing more but then I would think -  “Why?” or “What’s the point? And “There’s nothing you have to do.” And so it went, day after day after day. It was an awful, self-fulfilling cycle. I could see the sun hitting my balcony and I would open the door to let in some fresh air, but I couldn’t actually muster the motivation to go outside. 

About a week after this started I realized that I needed to do something to break this cycle. I decided to spend some time on my balcony and create a goal for this quarantine (just to have something to do). I immediately wrote down “go to grad school.” It’s something I’d been dreaming about since I had graduated college about a decade ago. I wanted to study strategic communications. With that degree I hoped that I would be able to make the world a better place by assisting nonprofits in communicating their stories. Now I might have enough time to figure out if I could make this dream a reality.

I was staring off into the hills next to my apartment (spring blooms were just starting to peek out and I could see the brilliant colors and seductive blossoms), when I heard a sound to my right. I looked over and saw a guy sitting on his balcony. 

“Oh hi,” he said, “I hadn’t realized that someone moved in next door.”

“Just a few weeks ago!” I said. “It’s nice to meet a neighbor.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he said. 

We went back to our respective activities. I wanted to keep talking but wasn’t sure what to say, he was so cute that I was nervous! I kept stealing glances over at him. He had a single dimple on his right cheek that appeared whenever he smiled or laughed and it made my heart melt.

I was trying to be nonchalant but as I was reaching down to take off my shoes I accidentally spilled some wine down the front of my shirt. I glanced over and he seemed to be totally absorbed in his book. Time to go back inside before I made a more obvious fool of myself. I gathered everything up, waved quickly in his direction without even looking over to see if he had waved back. 

The next day I got up and took a long shower, put on some makeup and jeans (!!). I picked up groceries, cooked, and cleaned.

Finally, when I had burned as much time as I could, I poured myself a crisp, cool, refreshing glass of rosé and walked out onto my balcony. I was reading a book but kept glancing up to see if he had come out of his apartment. I probably read the same paragraph a hundred times. Maybe he wasn’t coming out at all, possibly I was wasting my time. 

Finally, after what felt like ages, he walked outside. I glanced at my phone, it was a little after five - he must be working remotely.

“Hey!” I belted out, far too loudly for the perhaps ten feet that separated us. He smiled and said, “hi.”

“Fancy meeting you here.” I followed up with. Oof, I cringed inside, that was a horrible joke. I could feel a warm, bright red blush creeping up my cheeks.  He, nicely, chuckled at that and I was slightly less mortified. Our conversation started out slowly, haltingly, but pretty soon we were talking like we’d known each other for years. At the end of the night I practically danced back inside.

The next day, to kill time, I researched grad schools. I pulled up my old GRE score (thankfully I took that before we went into quarantine). My math score was meh, but reading was almost perfect. I hope that’s good enough to get me into a decent school. I found some really great programs including an Ivy League option (Columbia University). That’s an insane, unrealistic goal but it’s fun to dream about.

That night, Balcony Boy or BB (as I’ve started referring to him in my texts with friends) and I decide to try virtual trivia. We’re calling ourselves the Quaranteam. We’re a surprisingly good match. When I don’t know something it comes to him with ease and vice versa. 

We hang out again the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that. 

I’ve started saving my evenings to be with him, telling friends and family that I'm unavailable to talk. Fortunately, this is easy because everyone I’ve told about BB is rooting for us to get together. 

Meanwhile, even though I’m still not sure how I’ll pay for grad school, I’ve started pulling together an application. I spend my days contacting references, writing my personal statement, looking into FAFSA, trying to find scholarships. 

That night, when I see BB he tells me to go check in front of my door. He waits outside, on his balcony, while I go back into my apartment. He’s left a care package! It’s a bottle of rosé, a pizza and a slice of chocolate cake. When I came back out, grinning like a maniac, he said that he thought it would be nice for us to have dinner together. It’s official, I’m falling for him and I’m falling hard. We cheers across the divide as though life were normal.

At this point we’re spending every evening together, without even needing to say anything. As soon as he’s finished with work we meet on our respective balconies. I look forward to hearing from him, seeing him, laughing with him.

During the day, I’m still working on graduate school applications. I’ve narrowed it down to five schools. I’m putting the final touches on the applications and then I’ll submit them! I’m including Columbia because, well, I might as well try. Plus, I’ll feel worse if I’ve rejected myself (by not applying) before they even get a chance to do so.

I’m debating having “the relationship talk” with BB. I’m not sure if I should since we’ve never even been in the same room together, let alone kissed. But I decide to go for it.

“So, where do you see this going?” It felt stupid coming out of my mouth, I’m blushing. He doesn’t look surprised or taken aback, instead, he smiles, “I’d like to introduce you as my girlfriend.”

I have a fantastic boyfriend and I’ve submitted my grad school applications. BB and I are having a great time. Since he’s helping out his family sometimes and seeing them a bit, we’ve decided to wait to meet up in person until after quarantine is over. 

A few weeks later, on a Monday, I get the call from work to come back. BB and I have made plans to go do trivia together at a bar next week (this is the first time we’ll hang out in person!). 

The next day, Tuesday, I received a large envelope from Columbia University. I’m trembling while I open it, holding my breath unconsciously. I slip the letter out and let my breath out in a whoosh - I’ve been admitted with a full ride scholarship! I’m elated but the feeling is bittersweet. I’m not sure what to do - should I stay in Portland with BB or go to NYC? Except, deep down in my gut, I know what I need to do. I just don’t want it to be the answer, I want there to be another option - one where I don’t have to choose and I can have everything. But that’s not how life works - at least not in this moment and not in my life. 

When I tell BB the news he is sweet and understanding and happy for me. Our relationship has an end date, soon I’ll move to NYC. I’m devastated but I feel grateful for the few months we shared, that we found one another when we needed each other the most.