Social Distancing

Chapter 15: Quarantine

Three days later, my phone finally rang. I answered immediately with the hope Noah had called me.

"Maggie?" A worried voice spoke into the phone with me.

"Mom?"

Great.

There was only one person I wanted to talk to, and it wasn't her. I'd called and texted Noah almost to the point of being obsessive, but he'd sent no answer. I only assumed that he was as miserably sick as I was.

"Are you okay? A hospital, UCH  I think, called us."

"It's the University College Hospital. I'm here, but I'm fine." UCH was the teaching hospital associated with UCL. Since it was the closest hospital to the lab, I'd been brought here. My arrival hadn't been exciting and rushed, poor Amy and Dr. McKenna sat in the urgent care lobby with me for an hour before I'd vomited again and passed out.

"Then why are you in the hospital?" Mom's voice was full of unnecessary concern.

"I have flu-A," I replied flatly.

"Oh, we thought... well, never mind. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I repeated as I wished nothing more for this conversation to end. "Thanks."

"Okay..." She replied quietly. "Call if you need anything. Love you."

"Bye Mom."

I'd spent the last thirty-six hours here. The first twenty-four hours were the most stressful, and unfortunately when I was also the least incoherent. From conversations with the nurses and doctors, I came in with severe dehydration, vomiting, and a slight fever. Once they pumped me full of the European equivalents of Zofran and Tamiflu, my vomiting immediately stopped and fever disappeared.

However, once that happened, my awareness of my quarantine within a hospital increased and my anxiety spiked. And the longer I went without contact from Noah, the more frequently I stifled away the panic attacks. Despite how my nerves felt frazzled, I refused additional medication that would make my brain incoherent and instead settled for a mild sedative.

I still shuddered when I remembered how I'd vomited at the lab. That was definitely one example of where my memory was not a good thing. My illness also shut the entire building down during the same duration of time, with instructions for everyone to self-quarantine for flu-A for five days. The restrictions made me incredibly appreciative for the stockpile of food items Noah had given me and the only thing I wanted more than out of this hospital was to hear from Noah himself.

Noah...

I worried about him every minute of every day. He was immune-compromised after he'd gotten the vaccine, plus with asthma the flu-A was potentially more dangerous to him.

My frazzled nerves pushed me to the point where I needed to talk to him. Every flu-A infected cell in my body needed to talk to him, but he hadn't answered his phone.

So I did the next logical thing a person stuck in a hospital with no entertainment did; I attempted to track him down. I had not anticipated there being six hundred and fifty-seven Evans families in Kent, but only forty-two of them were within the geographic neighborhood of Canterbury that he had described to me. Since I had nothing to do for another forty-eight hours, I essentially became a telemarketer for Noah.

"Sorry, wrong number love." Another strike out buzzed in my ear. My call-spamming efforts had proven to be futile, but at least they were time-consuming.

I hit an unexpected result on the twenty-sixth Evans.

"Hello?" An elderly woman's voice answered.

"May I speak to Noah Evans please?" My throat felt dry from the previous twenty-five calls, so I reached for my ice water cup.

"There's no one here by that name." I was about to thank her and hang up when she said, "What did my grandson do this time?"

I sat upright in my bed and spilled my cup all over my lap. I ignored the cold, wet puddle that soaked into my hospital gown across my abdomen as my heart beat skipped faster.

Did I just reach... ? His Gram? The Gram?

"Is this Noah's Gram?" I searched my brain for her name, but my memory was a little foggy from the sedative.

"I have a grandson named Noah, yes," she replied with suspicion in her voice. "That's all I'll give you love."

"He's a third year at UCL, studying math?"

Maybe I should be sedated more often, this sounds like a normal conversation.

"Yes," she answered but then hesistated as if she anticipated me to continue. So I did.

"My name is Maggie Stevens, I'm a... friend of his."

"Maggie! Noah's girl?" Happiness immediately poured through the phone. "So nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too." I settled back against my bed pillows as the first smile of hope flashed across my lips. "I'm sorry, Noah only ever called you Gram."

"Everyone calls me Gram, so that includes you."

I was beginning to think his reassuring personality was a shared family trait, and hoped she could shed light on his present condition. "Gram, I haven't been able to reach Noah. Have you heard from him?"

"I haven't Maggie, I'm sorry." Her tone immediately softened.

I paused as a constricting filling tightened my chest. My find feared the worst and my right knee twitched, especially when she continued with, "I would think not, considering."

"Considering?" The single word tore me open inside. "Is he... okay?"

"He came home very sick. He's in the hospital right now. We don't know if he's going to make it, love."