20 minutes

The phone rings and vibrates on the table. Amy couldn't take it on the costume she was wearing. The most awful thing about the "clothes" was that they felt like a second skin now. It was something she was so used to now that she had to just ignore the lack of air, the painful touch of the double mask on her nose and cheeks. She had learned to do it. But what she kept forgetting was how lonely the costume was. How the people who saw her on it could barely recognise her. A nurse had written her name on the back, but still, she felt nameless, invisible even.

The door opens and a man comes in. He looks really young and has tears in his face. She then realises that he is a student. Not long ago, she had been in his shoes, but obviously not in the middle of a pandemic.

"Hey", he says.

"Are you okay?", she asks him.

"I suppose I have to be", he answers. "The old woman from the 2166 died. I have just told the family".

"I'm sorry", she says, cause there's really nothing else to say.

He nods.

The phone rings again. She catches a glance of an unknown number.

"Can you please take it?", she asks the student.

He slides right on the screen and puts on the speaker.

"Hello?", Amy says.

The voice of a woman is heard.

"Hi, this is Clare, the daughter of one of your patients. I'm sorry you probably don't remember..."

"Alan Goodwin's daughter, I remember", she says.

Of course she remembers. Alan is still in the ICU. He is bad. He doesn't have much time. She knows because yesterday she saw him. The nurses said he was getting weaker, that soon not even the ventilator would save him. She was on her way to check up on him now.

"Yes! Oh, God, I'm so glad you remember", Clare says. "I’m calling to see how is dad holding up”.

“Yes, look, I don’t want to lie to you or make you get your hopes up. He’s not well, his lungs can barely hold anymore. There is so little we can do for him now”.

Every word that comes out of her mouth feels like a punch in her throat. She is fighting so hard not to cry. The student looks at her while holding her pone. His eyes are still wet.

“I see”, Claire says. “Then can I ask you something?”

“Of course”, Amy says.

“Could my mum see him?”.

The question she is most afraid to hear lately. The hospital rules are clear: not visitors allowed. She knows it’s the best way to keep everyone safe, she tells herself that every day, every time a patient dies alone in a room or in the ICU. But it’s still so fucking hard to say no every single time.

“I’m afraid that is not allowed, Claire. I know for you it doesn’t make sense, but your dad is still positive. He i salive because of the ventilator, so he can’t go home, and if your mum gets infected too…”, Amy doesn’t finish the sentence.

“My mum is sick too, she is feeling better and she is not in the ICU, but she really needs to talk to my dad. She is threatening to stop taking her meds if she can’t see him”, Claire’s voice breaks at the end, like she is going to start crying at any time.

There is a silence then. Amy doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry, I can’t break the rules”, she says.

“I understand”, Claire sounds more composed now. “Please call me if anything changes”.

“I will”.

The student hungs up the phone. He looks at her with the most dreadful look.

“Couldn’t we break the rules, just for once. He is going to die alone”, he says.

“He is unconscious, I don’t think that poor woman should see that, besides, it’s not allowed”, Amy answers, repressing any fiber of her being that thinks this is not fair. Because she stopped believing in fairness a long time ago.

The student nods and leaves the phone on the table again.

“I have to go check on him, see you”, Amy says ready to leave.

“Can I go with you?”, he asks.

“You are not dressed, you’ll have to wait outside”, she says.

He nods.

Then they walk. She never takes the elevator while on the “clothes”, because she feels more trapped if that’s even possible, so they take the stairs. Once at the doors, she looks at the student and says:

“Stay here”.

When she enters the ICU, she takes a deep breath and starts walking towards Alan’s room. He is there, of course, on the bed. He is seventy-nine years old, but he is in really good shape. She remembers how funny he was the first time he came in to the hospital, a few weeks ago. She had been on call for almost sixteen hours and lots of rude patients were still waiting to get treated. Then she called out Alan’s name, and this old man walked to her with his blue hat on his hands and his fake teeth and said:

“I know I’m not the perfect date, but at least I have hair”, and smiled after what it looked like an innocent cough.

She couldn’t help but laugh. And that made her day. It only takes a nice patient to make your day really, to feel less miserable, even though you are still miserable and still a human being just like the rest.

Then everything started to get worse each day. More patients got sick, more masks were needed, more ventilators got used, and more people died alone. Alan kept holding on, but he got worse out of the blue. And that’s something that started to feel like normal.

She holds his naked hand with her gloved one, and she looks at the monitor, not really sure what to hope. Then, suddenly, she feels a small pressure on the hand. He is grabbing it. She knows he is dying, she is not stupid. But she hates this. She hates that he has to be alone.

A nurse comes in, Susan is her name, because her “clothes” say so.

“Doctor, we need another ventilator”, she says, looking at Alan. “A twenty year old came in today, she needs it or she dies”.

Amy swallows and looks at Alan again. She closes her eyes and lets go of his hand.

“He is the one that is worst”, Susan says.

“I know”, Amy can’t stop looking at him, at his White hair. “Can she wait?”, she asks.

“An hour maybe”, Susan answers, unsure.

“That’s enough”.

She leaves and at the door of the ICU, the students awaits for her, his back on the wall.

“What’s your name?”, she asks in a rush.

“Viktor”, he says.

“Okay, Viktor, I need you to do me a favour. You have to take my phone and call Claire to ask her where in the hospital is her mother staying, I need the room number and the whole name. Then you have to ask her if she has tested positive today”, Amy doesn’t know why she is doing what she is doing, but she just is.

The excitement in Viktor’s face is so genuine she feels even better.

“If she tested positive, I need you to dress for the ICU and go get her to her room”, she says. “Once you do that, you take her here”.

He starts nodding but doesn’t move.

“Go!”, she says.

Viktor starts running to the stairs and disappears among white halls and clothes.

She waits there for what it seems like an eternity, not sure even what to do or where to look at.

Then she sees someone pulling a wheelchair through the hall and running. The woman in the chair looks so scared and small.

“Heres he is”, Vikto says from his “clothes”. “Her name is Marjorie and she tested positive today”.

“Hello Marjorie, I am Amy, your husband’s doctor”, Amy tries to find the right words. “Alan is not well, and we need to give his ventilator to someone else. But I think I can get you to see him for twenty minutes”.

Marjorie starts to cry. Amy isn’t sure if those are sado or happy tears, because she is smiling.

“Thank you, darling. Last time we spoke on the phone, Alan said you were sweeter than you looked, but I never imagined this”, Marjorie says. “ You have no idea how much this helps”.

Amy smiles, but she cries too. Although no one can see her tears, she feels them wet on her skin.

They go inside the ICU. Amy sees how two nurses get out of Alan’s room. They see them. They can report this immediately, she thinks. But still they would have time to make it to the room. Instead, they look at them and nod. They understand.

Once in the room, Alan looks different without the ventilator. Somehow, he looks healthier, even though he is about to die. Viktor takes Marjorie’s chair as near as posible to the bed. Then she looks at Amy.

“Can I hold his hand?, she asks.

Amy nods.

“Just, like I said, only…”

“Twenty minutes”, Marjorie says. “I know, dear, that’s more than enough”.

Viktor starts sobbing and says to Amy:

“I feel like we should give them some privacy”.

Amy agrees and so they leave.

Minutes pass by. Tears are now dry on Amy’s face.

She sits down on the floor just as a monitor starts beeping and a woman’s cry fills the aire. And the tears come out again.