Little Chance

It’s 4 am in October of 2021 when Julie abruptly awakens in terror. The air feels thick and she can hardly breathe. The sheets are soaked with sweat and the pain in her stomach consumes her. She scrambles towards the toilet and retches loudly and fiercely. Eventually, there is nothing left and she falls back against the wall. Breathing unsteadily, she wipes her face with shaking hands. “God, please, please. Why me? Help me! I can’t go on this way!” she screams. The panic attacks have been a daily occurrence since that night. She cries for half an hour before sinking onto the floor into sleep.

The alarm buzzes 3 hours later. Julie drags herself from the bathroom floor to the nightstand and hits snooze. She sits there reeling from last night before grabbing the picture that sits by the bed and gazes at the man in it. His dark green eyes and chestnut hair glimmer in the sun as he smiles, red wood trees towering over him. That time of happiness seems so far away now. Julie pulls herself from her reverie, knowing it’s time to go. She goes to the bathroom and in the mirror sees puffy brown eyes and matted, oily black curls. She flings open the medicine cabinet and shakes a few Zoloft into her palm before sticking her mouth under the faucet.

Once she’s cleaned up and dressed, she puts on a pot of coffee and sits at the kitchen table. The house is cold, but she can’t afford to put the heat on for more than a few hours a day. This house wasn’t always like this. When she and David bought it in 2015 it was much more alive. The wood flooring was authentic and shined, now it leaves but a dull flicker in the eye. The sun used to hit the windows just right to cast beautiful natural light through all the rooms. Now, not a single ray seems to permeate the darkness. She imagined children running through the front door after a long day at school and reading stories to them in their bed while David washed the dishes.

Again, Julie shook herself from her fantasies, knowing these things would never happen.

There hadn’t been a single known COVID-19 case in the country for three months, none in Boston for five. Everyone is trying to move on, but the city doesn’t look the same. The streets once lined with cars for miles have been replaced by dust, with only few cars making their way about. Probably people looking for jobs, just like she’s been for months. Her stomach still turned, but she had to make this interview. Unemployment had run out, and her savings were close behind.

 She took a right on Wellman Street, scanning the buildings until she saw a dingy brown sign reading “Bean Town Cafe”. It was a tiny building wedged between a dirty laundromat and a closed jewelry shop. She parked in front since there was no one fighting her for a spot. She checked herself in the mirror, grabbed her purse, and went to the door. Though rough on the outside, the interior was quite charming. The worn brick walls were plastered with coffee-related artwork, Red Sox memorabilia, and old black and white photos of the city. Tiny brown tables lined the walls and a tufted leather couch sat in the corner beside a large wooden table hidden by magazines and books. The paned windows were lined with exotic curtains of red and purple and a large serape area rug older than the building made the whole room cozy. The place was quiet with only a few customers sitting at the tables. She walked up to the counter and looked into pastry window. Banana muffins, blueberry scones, everything bagels. The smell of java crept up her nose and gave her a buzz.

“Can I help you?” the young blonde barista asked dully while stocking cups.

“Hi, my name is Julie Silva, I’m here for an interview with Billy,” she said.

The girl looked towards her and said “Sure,” disappearing into the back.

Julie waited only a moment before a robust, gray haired man with large glasses came towards her.

“Miss Silva, hi thea, nice to finally meet ya!” He gruffly grabbed her delicate hand with his large rough one. “Wanna cuppa cawffee befaw we take a seat hea?” His Boston accent was thick. Her having moved from Connecticut 10 years ago to attend UMASS, she didn’t carry the accent herself, but she could understand it well. David had the most beautiful Boston voice she ever knew.

“Oh, I’m fine thank you. Just had one before I came,” she replied.

“Nawnsense, one cup’s nawt enough!” He scurried his fat bottom behind the counter, poured two black coffees into cracked mugs and topped them with cream. He waddled to a table up against the paned windows by the door and Julie followed.

“Suga?” he handed her the caddy. She smiled and took a few packets, ripping them open and dumping them into the caramel colored liquid.

“So, Miss Silva, let’s see that resume,” he placed his chubby hands on the table.

Julie slid it across to him, deciding not to correct him that she was Mrs. Silva, or maybe Ms. She wasn’t sure what she should call herself.

He perused the papers briefly before setting them down.

“When did you lose it?” he asked.

She assumed he meant her restaurant and not her marriage.

“Almost a year ago,” she answered.

“Man, I sweah, best clam chowdah in the area” he said.

Julie remembered the huge pots of homemade chowder David had made. The thick white cream, entangled with soft potatoes and rich clams.

“Yes,” she smiled weakly and looked down into her cup.

Billy stared at her before saying, “Listen Miss Silva,”

“Please, call me Julie,”

“Ok, Julie. I know and you know that you could run this whole place, probably even bettah than I run it. Hell, I don’t know how I’ve stayed alive during the last couple yeahs.”

“People get addicted to coffee, not chowder,” she quipped.

“Ha, you’d be surprised,” Billy laughed. “But I tell ya, it hasn’t been easy. I’m barely making it, but I do need a responsible person to watch the shop a few days a week. I’m just not as limbah as I used to be,” he smiled patting his gut.

Julie smirked, “I think I can do that,”

“Great, can you staht today?” he asked.

“Right now?” she asked.

“Unless you’ve got somewhea else to be?”

“No, no, I just,” she began.

“We all gotta staht somewhea to get back to normal,” he interrupted.

Julie wasn’t sure what normal was anymore, but she said, “Ok,”

She spent the day training with the blonde, Kate, learning how to use the espresso machine, the oven, and the register. Having worked in the industry for years, Julie picked it all up quickly. Business was steady and by the time 5 pm rolled around it was time to close. Kate finished up her duties and left for the day. Later on, Billy showed Julie how cash out and lock up.

 “So, you think you got it all down?” he asked as they stood outside locking the doors.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Great, I’ll see ya tomorrah, 5 am shahp,” Billy replied.

“Thank you,” Julie rose and shook his hand, “You have no idea how much I appreciate this,”

“You have no idea how many duds I interviewed befoah you came in,” he laughed.

Julie smiled, “Well, good night.”

Three weeks passed and Julie was enjoying working at the Bean Town Café. Billy was always coming and going so it was like she had her own place again. One night after work, she was sitting at the table eating Chinese food. She was on her 2^nd glass of merlot when the phone rang. It was her mother.

“Hi mom,” she answered blandly.

“Julie, good you answered. What’s wrong?”

Julie rolled her eyes. Her mother was oblivious that everything was wrong. “I’m fine mom, what is it?”

“Oh, I just wanted to make sure that you got the invitation to your sister’s wedding,”

“Yes, I got it,” she answered.

“And you’ll be coming down in two weeks for a fitting?”

Julie sighed, “Mom, I just started a new job, I don’t think I can get it off in time, so just have Jess stand in for me, we’re the same size,” she said of her sister.

“You got a job! Honey, that’s wonderful! Where?”

“It’s nothing special, just managing a coffee shop a few days a week,” she answered.

“Well, that is something special! You should be happy!” her mother exclaimed.

“Mom, it pays $600 a week, it’s barely enough.”

“Well, if you sold the house,” her mother suggested.

“Mom, stop,” Julie interrupted. “I am not selling the house.”

“It’s too big for you. It’s a home for a family, and well,” she trailed off.

Julie’s face burned. “I gotta go.”

“Oh Julie, don’t be upset. You’ve got to start moving on, get your life back on track,”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that!” And she hung up before turning the phone off.

Julie threw her dishes in the sink and went upstairs. She took another two Zoloft and crawled into bed. She knew she shouldn’t drink while taking it but she found it hard to care. She missed David so much it hurt. She knew she had to sell the house. There’s no way she could keep paying for it. But it was their home and she still prayed it was all a nightmare. That he would come walking in the door.

In December 2020, David became sick with COVID. He stayed in bed while she slept in the guest room, meeting his every need. He was a healthy man of 32 and they saw no reason to worry his illness would be severe. During that time, she took over the restaurant. Business steadily declined, even with their reputation of being one of the best restaurants in the city and eventually they had to lay off most of their workers.

One night, about a month after the restaurant closed for good, Julie came home and found David in bed struggling to breathe. She ran to him, “David, baby, what’s wrong?” She cried. He was chalk white and translucent. He couldn’t speak. She pulled back the sheets and gasped in shock at how frail his body had become. She immediately called for an ambulance and tried to soothe him, but his breathing became slower. When the ambulance arrived, two EMTs dressed in Hazmat suits rushed into the room and placed his limp body on a stretcher.

“I’m coming,” Julie cried.

“Not with us,” said one EMT. “You can’t be near him, get in your car and follow us,”

“He’s my husband, I’m not leaving him!” she shrieked.

“Ma’am, you are at risk. Please listen to me,” he insisted.

“But,” she tried.

“Let us do our job!” They lifted and carried him down the stairs. Julie followed, stealing a glance from David. His face hidden by a bag valve mask. “David, I’ll meet you there! I love you,”

He stared at her, reaching his hand toward her. She rushed to touch it when the EMT pushed her back, “Stay away, Ma’am, he is deathly contagious!” They moved through the door, loaded the ambulance, and left. That was the last time she ever saw him.

Once at the hospital, she was forbidden from seeing David. She screamed and pleaded, but the medical directors said anyone with COVID was forbidden from visitors. She was so hysterical that they had to remove her, and the next thing she knew, she was strapped to a table by her ankles and wrists. She wailed until they stabbed her with a needle and everything went black. When she awoke, she was in a plain white room. The nurse was there.

“Where is my husband, what’s going on?” Julie asked her desperately.

“I’ll get the doctor,” the nurse replied.

Soon the doctor came in and told her that she was being kept in the facility due to hysteria.

“I am not hysterical,”

“You were, Ms. Silva,” the doctor answered.

Julie corrected the doctor, “It’s Mrs. Silva. I’m married, and my husband is sick. They took him. Where is he?”

The doctor stared at her, “He's gone, Ms. Silva,”

She fell back in shock and couldn’t eat or drink for days. The facility became her home for the next 2 months.

When her mother brought her home, the house looked as it did the night David was taken to the hospital. The bed still held the indentations of his body. Julie crawled into the spot where her husband once lain and cried for days.

The next morning, Julie went to work. She sat with a cup of coffee, the room spinning. The door opened.

“Morning,” Kate said, hanging up her jacket. She turned around and saw the specter that was Julie. “Damn, you don’t look so good,” she asked.

“I’m fine. Just a little too much juice last night,” Julie answered.

“Been there,” Kate answered. “There’s some aspirin in the office.”

“Thanks,” Julie went to the office with its usual piles of papers and half full mugs of old coffee. She opened up the cupboards finding the aspirin along with a picture frame. It was an old photo of a woman, about 20 years old, with short brown hair and an infectious smile. She looked familiar to Julie, though she didn’t know why. When 6 am came, Julie unlocked the door. They were steady and at 10 Kate went on break.

Soon, a middle aged woman with a pout came in. “Small mocha to go,”

Julie nodded. Once made, she set the cup on the counter. “That’ll be $3.25.”

The woman held up her hand, nose twitching, before sneezing directly at Julie.

Julie stepped back, “Are you serious?”

The woman wiped her nose with her hand. “Excuse me?”

“You just sneezed on me!”

The woman chuckled, “Oh, I’m not sick. It’s obviously dusty in here.”

Julie spoke louder this time, “What does that matter? You don’t sneeze on other people. There’s a pandemic!”

“Oh, right the pandemic. Just as likely to get hit by a lightning strike,” she said derisively.

“What the hell do you know?” Julie raged.

“Excuse me? Let me see the manager!” the lady yelled back.

“I am the manager.”

“Really? They let an imbecile like you in here,”

“Leave now, I’m refusing you service,” Julie said gravely.

“Because of sneezing?”

“No, because you’re rude and inconsiderate,”

“Ha, I’ll do what I please. COVID is over, and I won’t be restrained by it any longer. Now give me my coffee,”

“Fine, here,” Julie removed the lid and poured the coffee over the counter, throwing the cup to the floor. She stormed to the back when Billy walked in. The woman was steaming. Kate had just returned and he told her to get the woman what she wanted on the house. He went in the back to find Julie sitting on a pile of sacked coffee beans, crying.

“What’s going on?”

“That woman sneezed on me! Is she crazy? With COVID going on? What is she trying to do, kill me?”

“Julie, COVID is over. There haven’t been any cases for months,”

“Maybe it’s over for you, but not for me,” she answered.

Billy took a deep breath and sat next to her, “If losing your wife to it means it’s over…”

She looked up.

“Yes, I lost Helen. Would’ve been 42 years this summah,”

Julie cleared her throat and stared into the man’s light blue eyes. “I lost David, my husband. We’d only been married for 5 years. We wanted to start a family.”

Billy took her hand. “Anyone who thinks COVID was nothing, obviously lost nothing. We can’t change their minds.”

“But why do they get to go on like everything is fine?”

“I’m not sure darlin’, but everyone has hurt waitin’ for ‘em. It just ain’t thea turn yet,”

Julie dabbed her eyes with her sleeve, “I’m so sorry about your wife,”

“Yeah,” He sighed. “But if she were hea, she’d probably’da dumped that mocha on her head.”

Julie laughed, then he laughed, and they were lost in humor for a bit.

“So, you hired me because Helen used to help you run the shop?” Julie asked.

“Yep, she was the boss. And when I saw your resume in my stack, I knew I had to choose you. She always raved about you,” he answered.

“What? How did she..?”

“You made the best chowdah in town. She used to go there every Saturday for lunch.”

Julie remembered her from the photo now. It was a much younger Helen, one of their regulars.

“Helen,” Julie said. “She always tipped too much,”

“That’s her,” he chuckled. Then more seriously, “I’m sorry about David,”

“I don’t know what to do Billy. I thought my life was just beginning, but now I’m just waiting for it to end. I can barely get out of bed most days. My family carries on like everything is fine. They want me to move on, but how? How come we survived and they died?” she asked.

“Only God knows. We have to live on because we deserve to,” he said.

After months of therapy, she finally felt understood by someone. They had been connected without her knowing it, and from that moment on, they became good friends.

Two nights later, Julie sat on the couch, feeling the happiest she had in months when she turned to the news.

“Coming in, the new strain of Bird Flu which has rocked Beijing, infecting over 2,000 people, killing half. The first case in the US is purported to be in Boston,”

Julie’s throat clenched, she dropped the remote, and fell to the floor.