Calvin Sumner
I don't sleep well these days.
Which isn't to say I have trouble falling asleep because I don't. At all. In fact, I have more of an issue staying awake. If I sit down and close my eyes, I'll be out. But my sleep doesn't feel at all replenishing. It mostly feels like I'm wasting my time because I wake up feeling just as tired as I was when I went to sleep, if not more. Maybe it's a result of the crushing fear that seems to live within me now. Maybe it's because I just want to be back in my bed with Dres.
Either way, it is and isn't a burden to be up early Wednesday morning. I don't think any amount of sleep is going to actually cure how tired I am. It makes no difference if I sleep all day or get up early. The act of dragging myself out of bed and getting dressed is still arduous. But it's a grocery day, which means it's also a Dres day. That gives me the push I need. The sooner I deliver groceries, the sooner I see Dres.
On my list are my cousins, Dolores, Dolores's neighbor and our resident Covid-Updates Blogger, Polly, Ms. Vivvie, Jack, and Tasha, one of Dres's employees. The groceries have already been ordered and filled. When I get to the store, I just have to lug all the bags to my car and then play Santa Clause with the deliveries. I do my locals first, heading to Tasha's, who lives within a few blocks of the grocery store. I leave the bags at the door of her complex building and then call her, waiting in my car till she comes down to get them. She's wearing a lime green mask and waves at me before she grabs her things and heads back inside.
From there I go to Ms. Vivvie, who lives a few blocks off of Dolores and Polly. Ms. Vivvie has an old wooden wrap-around porch with rocking chairs and a swing and tons of plotted plants. In the last four weeks, I've seen more and more potted plants show up so her porch now resembles a nursery. I leave her bags by the door, ring her doorbell and move backwards till I'm standing on the sidewalk.
Ms. Vivvie answers the door and I don't realize I'm holding my breath till she does. It's no secret Covid's been targeting and taking out older people. But Ms. Vivvie looks good, dressed in a vibrant chiffon robe. She has on a floral mask that matches the head wrap she's wearing.
"You're a godsend, Calvin," she calls to me. "You see my sign." She points at her yard. I wouldn't have noticed it if not for her pointing, considering she planted some new bushes. But in the foliage is a sign that says Thank You Covid-19 Warriors.
"That's a great sign, Ms. Vivvie," I say grinning even though she can't see it. "Stay safe."
She points at me warningly. "You stay safe."
I deliver Polly's groceries in the same fashion and then stop at Dolores's. Amelia usually gets the door. Dolores and Charles wave at me from the window in the living room, calling hello. They don't wear their masks from that distance. They look good, skin pink and healthy. No signs of cyanosis. I don't know why I think they would have that. Maybe I just can't stop seeing it now. I look at people and imagine what they'd look like entering my ER without even meaning to and then I have to force the thought away. They aren't going to get sick. I'm not going to watch them die.
Amelia's wearing a thin blue medical mask. Clinical. She's in sweats, her hair a messy bun on her head. She's sitting on the front steps when I walk up. She gives me a small wave as she calls out, "Hey!" I walk as close as I can before I drop their bags and then I back up to the sidewalk. Amelia is slow to rise and bring the groceries back up the porch. Dolores comes to the door, pulling the bags inside.
"How are you, Cas?" Dolores says from her bent over position.
"I'm good," I respond nearly screaming so she'll hear me through my mask and the distance. "Are you guys doing okay?"
"We're right as rain," she says, smiling at me as she disappears back into the house.
Amelia's eyebrows move and I think she's just rolled her eyes. "Trouble in paradise?" I ask.
"I'm losing it, Cas," she says dismally. "I wish Dres had another bed... Though I'm really about to forfeit and just pitch a tent in his backyard or something. Being back home after moving out is just..."
"You're telling me," I mumble.
She looks up at that and maybe she's frowning, I can't tell. "Ugh, I'm sorry," she says quickly. "I'm an insensitive asshole."
"What if I get like a, I don't know, blow up bed? Would you go stay with him if I did?"
Amelia's eyebrows crease. "I mean, I - I don't know that Dres really wants..."
I nod my head vigorously. "I really think he does. And needs it, honestly. He's been alone for four weeks."
"Well then, yeah, if he's fine with it. Dolores and Charles are basically on a honeymoon. And if I have to watch another episode of Deal or No Deal I am going to go AWOL."
"Alright, I'll broach the subject with him and get back to you."
Amelia stands, wiping the back of her sweatpants. "You don't think you're going to be able to move back in anytime soon?"
I shrug, disheartened. "I have no idea, honestly. The numbers are still rising. ICU's full. ER is taking the overflow. I don't think there's an actual moment during my shift where I don't cross Covid's path."
"Damn, okay," Amelia responds. "I'm happy to do it if he wants me to. But you know what he really needs is you, right?"
"I do, yeah," I say quietly, not really concerned if she hears me or not.
There was a time in my life where hearing something like that would've sent me over the moon. It's not a question anymore, of Dres needing me. I think the last eight months have proved as much. I need him just as much, if not more. And the moment, the second, it's safe enough to go home to him, I will. Until then, this is the best I can do.
"I'll text you," I call to her.
When I get to Jack's, he's standing outside on his phone. I step out, walking to the middle of his front path, where I drop his bags and then wait for him to finish his call on the sidewalk. He's wearing basketball shorts and slippers with a button up and tie. He doesn't have a mask on and gives me a sheepish look as he tucks his phone into his pocket and walks out to get his groceries.
"The lifesaver himself," he greets with a small smile. "Sorry bout that. Dealing with about a million things here."
On his front lawn is a sign that says Honk! An Amazing Teacher Lives Here. Jasmine teaches grade school, fifth grade. I can't imagine how hard online schooling must be and with their own kids at home. I understand why Jack's looking a little worse for wear.
"How are you?" he asks. He hasn't backed up that much and I'm uncomfortable with the lack of space between us, even though it's at least six feet of distance.
"You know," I say with a shrug.
Jack raises an eyebrow questioningly. "No, I don't know. S'why I asked."
"Are you gonna run back and tell Dres? He's worrying enough as it is," I say after a moment. Maybe that's a bit pointed but I'm not in the business of mincing words at the moment, a side effect of being absolutely bone-weary.
Jack laughs at that. "No, your secrets safe with me."
I shrug and nod at the same time. I'll take his word for it, I suppose. "Well than in that case I'm absolutely shit. I honestly feel like a newborn baby? Because all I wanna do is cry. About literally everything. Cry because I'm tired, cry because I'm angry, cry because it feels like there's no end in sight here, and our government is shit, and this situation is shit, and am I ever going to be within less than six feet of Dres again?"
Jack is looking at me a little wide-eyed.
I rub the side of my face, taking what I hope is a calming breath. "Fuck, I'm sorry."
"No, no you just answered my question. I had a feeling you were bottling some shit in," Jack responds quickly. "I know this is hard, Cas. And even saying that I'll never really know it the way you know it. The way you're seeing it. But you can't keep all that stuff inside of you. You look like you're ready to implode."
"Yeah, but I don't want Dres to..." To what exactly, I don't know. Worry? Do something stupid like break quarantine? That last one, I think. I can't stop him from worrying but I can keep him safe.
"Dres can handle it," Jack says. "You don't need to tiptoe around him."
"He already feels helpless being stuck in the house. I don't want to give him a reason to break quarantine."
"He's more likely to break it if he thinks you're hiding stuff than if you just tell him that things suck right now and you're not okay. You're both pretending like it's all fine and dandy and it isn't."
I furrow my brow. "What do you mean he's pretending?"
Jack falters for a second, looking like he's thinking over what he's said. "Uhm."
"Did he say something to you?" I ask. Because he hadn't said anything to me. Dres has been aloof, at best. He sits on our FaceTimes and nods and listens to me vent about patients, about people not taking the mask-wearing seriously, about people who come in thinking they're going to be fine and leave in a body bag. He listens and he says nothing about what's going on with him and I'm the idiot that just lets him, fuck.
"Look, if I'm not going to tell him what you just said then I really can't tell you anything he's said. Just talk to each other, okay? Communication is your only life line with him at this point."
I rub at my eyebrow, feeling a headache coming on. "Yeah, okay, you're right. I gotta head out and get the last of these groceries done so I can get to his place."
Our place. Fuck. This pandemic absolutely blows.
Dresden Gibson
Cas is late and I know I shouldn't be mad but I am.
Days like today are the closest we have to normalcy. This is the only time where our relationship gets to exceed telecommunication. I can't really justify being angry, though, when he's out delivering other people's groceries in the middle of a pandemic, after working a full twelve hour shift saving people's lives and exposing himself to this disease. I feel like absolute shit about it.
But I'm still angry.
I know the anger is really just me missing him. I do, logically. I've had this conversation with Ashley during our telemedicine sessions. Fear can manifest differently for everyone, and it can manifest differently for you every single time you face it. There are some days where my fear shows up as a symptom. My stomach will churn acid all day and I won't be able to keep any meals down. When I was watching the news and reading articles and the tweets (Cas made me a twitter), I would get all hot and itchy and my skin would be covered in hives like I was actually allergic to the facts of this pandemic. I've started avoiding the news now.
It's late afternoon when Cas texts that he's here. I rush for the door, pulling it open. He's standing a few steps back from the bottom of the stairs which is the closest he's gotten in a while. There are four freezer bags outside the screen door.
"You should put those away real quick," he says, his voice muffled by the mask. I hear him but I'm not really focused as I try to absorb him at the same time. He looks drowsy, his eyes droopy and low. He's only in jeans and sweatshirt, no jacket, but it's warm today, sixties, and warmer in the sun. Today would've been a nice day for a hike.
"Dres?" Cas says after a moment.
"Right, yeah." I push the screen door open and slide the bags inside. "I'll be a second."
"Take your time," he responds and it's too casual, making me suspicious. Cas hasn't moved his hands from behind his back, rocking on his feet.
I bring the bags into the kitchen, wondering what he's up to. I'm quick to put the groceries away, shoving everything that needs to be refrigerated onto the shelves. I can organize them later but I've got a limited amount of time with Cas and I'm not wasting it.
When I get back to the door, there's a bluetooth speaker siting on the top stair. Cas is looking down at his phone. "What's this?" I ask and he jumps.
"Oh, shit, that was fast. Wait one sec, one sec." He hits something on his phone and music starts playing. At first, I don't recognize what it is. Until Marvin Gaye's voice comes through. I know this song well but what I'm wondering is how Cas knows this song. I'm confused what's happening until Cas starts dancing.
Calvin Sumner
I am dancing publicly for this fool that is how much I love him.
Dresden Gibson
"You're not going to let me dance alone, are you?"
"Cas," I say slowly, unsure what I'm evening trying to say.
"Dance with me, big guy."
Cas's eyes are shining and in the sunlight like this, it hurts to look at him. It hurts to not be able to close the distance between us, take him into my arms, and sway to the music. He's right, though. I'm not going to let him dance alone. Not when he's asking like that and the closest he's been in weeks.
I start moving, shaking my shoulders to the beat. Cas has his hands in the air, but not completely. They're in line with his shoulders and he's moving his hips side to side. It's the most on-beat I've ever seen him dance, like he's been practicing.
"You're better at this than I remember," I say after a few songs. Cas is panting a bit, crouches and then just takes a seat at the bottom of the stairs.
"I took a dance class," he says between big breaths. The mask gets sucked into the hollow of his mouth and then blows out like a bubble. "How did I get so out of shape in four weeks? I want a refund."
I sit down on the floor. There's a screen door, four steps, and the length of the front stoop between us. "You took a dance class?" I ask.
"Yeah, college. My last year. I had met my requirements so I decided to take a blow off class. Naturally I was the comedic relief for everyone."
"Naturally," I say grinning.
Cas turns, pressing his back against the banister so he's lying across the stair. I turn and sit back against the doorframe so we're at different ends. I want to ask him to take the mask off but I know he won't.
"Can I say something?" Cas asks after a moment of silence.
I nod my head. Cas is quiet. Then he says, "When this is all over, like really over, I want to go away, I think."
I hum thoughtfully. "Go away where?"
Cas looks up into the sun, closing his eyes as the rays warm his skin. "Europe. But I'm not talking like four days away. I'm talking a whole summer."
"Okay, so we'll go away for a whole summer," I respond simply.
Cas opens his eyes at that, looking over at me like he's wondering if I'm bluffing or not.
"We could start in London," I say. "Stay for a few nights. And then we'll go to..."
"Brussels," he says excitedly. "I have always wondered what the hell is going on in Brussels. Do they eat brussel sprouts there? Or absolutely hate even the suggestion of it? Brussel sprouts? How tourist, how gauche."
I laugh quietly. "Okay, Brussels. And then from there we could probably take a shuttle down to Paris."
"Paris, yes, yes. I love that for us. And since we're already in France, we might as well go to Cannes. Probably would only need a day there. And then!" Cas stops dramatically. I wait. "Italy."
I nod enthusiastically. "Milan, maybe. Definitely Bologna. Venice. The Amalfi coast."
"All of it. Add it all to our itinerary. Florence, Pisa, Rome. Go big or go home, right?"
"So then why stop at Italy? We'll go to Spain next. Barcelona and then Madrid. You'll love it."
"You've been?" he asks.
"When I was, I don't know, thirteen maybe fourteen? Dolores's family lives in Valencia."
"Are they still there?" he asks and I nod. "Great, then Valencia, too."
"Portugal's right there. A hop skip and jump to Lisbon."
Cas's eyes are pinched, the only indication I have that he's smiling. "Are we getting predictable with this trip? I would hate for us to be like every other tourist." He says tourist like it's an absolute insult.
"We'll throw something unconventional in, then. I don't know...." I'm imagining a map of Europe, trying to decide where we could go from Lisbon that would make sense.
"Morocco," he says quickly. "What about Morocco?"
"I think Fester would want us to visit Fes," I say cheekily.
"Fester would demand it of us. Add it to the list."
"We'd need something relaxing to end the trip with — an island." I think for a moment before saying, the same time Cas does, "Greece."
"Wow, look at us. So simpatico," Cas says with a laugh. "Cas and Dres take Europe. Light at the end of this freaking tunnel."
I pause at that, staring at him curiously. He's hard to read in a mask. "How are you doing? Really?"
Cas looks over at me at the question, surprise in his eyes. He clears his throat. "I think it's stupid that we try to spare each other's feelings."
I tilt my head questioningly. "What?"
"Jack told me you've been pretending that everything's fine?"
I fight back the urge to make a comment about Jack involving himself when he has no right to because what he's said isn't untrue and honestly, Cas is right too. It benefits no one if we can't talk about what's really going on.
"So yeah," Cas says when I don't immediately respond. "I think we can just say that things suck and this isn't easy and I fucking miss you. A lot. Even though you're literally six feet away from me."
Calvin Sumner
Dres's expression opens. He says, "You don't have to be six feet away, Cas."
I frown. He can't tell that I'm frowning though. I'm wearing my mask. "Yes, I do."
"What would you do," he says slowly. "If I just opened the door—"
"Stop," I say quickly, interrupting him. "That's not an option."
"I mean, it is an option. It's just not one you approve of."
I sigh. "I told Jack this is why I don't say anything to you. Just because I'm sad and I'm scared and I'm frustrated, doesn't mean — I don't want you to do something drastic, okay? I get that this is just how I'm going to feel for a while. It's all worth it because at least I know you're safe."
Dres looks away, dropping his head so he's staring at the floor. "Yeah but what about me?" Before I can ask what about him, he goes, "I worry about you. All the time. I wake up worrying about you, I go to bed worrying about you. I watch the news and I worry about you. I don't watch the news and I still worry about you. I hear these horror stories about the PPE shortages, people wearing the same masks for weeks, doctors having to intubate without any PPE..."
He tips his head back and it thuds against the door frame, this soft sound as he gets quiet. His head tilts my way after a moment. His eyes are glassy. "I just worry about you."
I don't know what to say. He should worry, I think. This is the most unprecedented situation and my hospital is at capacity and I'm exposed to Covid every single day. There isn't anything I can say that changes these facts.
So I say, "Well I'm not dying any time soon. I'm not done with you just yet."
"Oh, you're not, are you?" His tone is flirty. Good. We can drop this then.
"Uh uh," I respond. "For starters, there are seven countries we're going to bang in. It's on the bucket list now, which means we have to do it."
Dres is smiling. "What else is on this bucket list?"
"Marriage," I say before I've even thought about it. It's too late to take it back now and if I've frightened Dres, his expression isn't letting on. The silence weighs on us.
"Kids?" he asks finally.
I breathe a laugh, relieved. "Kids are definitely on the bucket list."
"So then we'll need to get a bigger house," he says.
I groan. "That'll be your job, big guy. I cannot go through another bout of real estate shopping."
"It'll need to have a pool," he says. "And I think I'd like a place with a farmhouse kitchen."
"I have no idea what a farmhouse kitchen is but I am down if it means we can have chickens," I say grinning.
"You have no idea how to raise chickens," he says.
"I'll learn obviously! Why does everyone claim to love me but always denies me the pets I want?"
"Chickens aren't pets."
"They could be. I'd put collars on them. I'd walk them around our backyard. I could even teach them to swim."
"I am concerned by all of what you've just said. How about a cat?"
"A cat is not a chicken, Dres," I say haughtily.
Dres rolls his eyes. "That's kinda the point."
Dresden Gibson
Cas is falling asleep on the stair.
Admittedly, I'm letting him because I'm content to watch him sleep. But I know he's tired and he has work tomorrow so I finally say, "Cas." But he doesn't budge at that. "Babe, wake up."
His eyes jolt open. "Babe?" he says loudly like he was not just fully asleep. "Did you just call me babe?"
I did, mostly because I knew it'd get his attention.
"Come on," I say ignoring the face he's giving me. "Go home and get some sleep."
He raises his hands into the space between us, clenching at the air. "I could strangle you right now, Dresden Gibson. Calling me babe when I can't even get near you. Un-freaking-believable."
I raise an eyebrow questioningly. I can't cut the amusement out of my voice. "I didn't call you babe to turn you on, Cas. It's not my fault literally anything gets you going."
"Yeah well if this was your ploy to get me to break the six feet rule, it's not going to work. I once edged for a whole month. I am a pillar of self control."
"I was just trying to wake you up," I say innocently, because I am innocent. I can't get edged for a month out of my head. This kids going to be the death of me. A thousand little deaths.
"Likely story," Cas says as he stands. He stretches his arms over his head and his sweater rises, revealing this sliver of skin above the line of his jeans. I drink it in because it's all I get, peaks of skin, memories of touch. "Alright, I was kinda saving the best for last. Well, for the sun to go down actually cause I thought that would be more romantic. In my search for some dance music, I came across this song and I was like wow, okay, this is perfection and so this is my dedication to you."
"Wait what?" I ask but Cas is already turning the song on. It's The Spinners. Cas snaps his fingers, swinging side-to-side. As the chorus starts, he makes a fist, holding it to his mouth as he sings. "Whenever you call me, I'll be there. Whenever you want me, I'll be there. Whenever you need me, I'll be there."
I sing the next verse, quietly at first and then louder. Cas shakes his head. "Of course you know this song."
"It's a great song," I say fondly.
"It is," he admits, shaking his shoulders on beat. "It makes me think of us."
When the song ends, I say, "It makes me feel hopeful."