Lockdown Love

Three weeks into lockdown and Sara had already watched everything of value on Netflix, read enough novels on Kindle to destroy her eyes and knitted a scarf long enough to wrap a tree. She was bored. No, she'd passed boredom sometime in week one. Anger and frustration had hung around for week two, and by week three, even that had given way. Now all she had left was an all consuming malaise.

Her only contact with other people was a daily phone call with her sister Robin, who was locked down with her husband and their two kids, who were both under the age of five. That meant that their conversations were punctuated by frequent interjections of “stop that”, “get down”, “oh, no, you don’t”. Initially, Sara had been thankful to have her small studio apartment to herself, but as the lockdown continued she started to envy her sister’s chaotic household.

For the first week, she'd listened patiently to Robin’s complaints about working from home while looking after the children. Bob, her husband, who was also working from home, was another source of frustration. Somehow he had successfully negotiated taking on the role of shopper and cook, thus allocating the role of school teacher and minder to Robin. Sara’s sister professed love for both husband and offspring, while simultaneously threatening them with bodily harm. Maintaining equanimity was difficult, she confessed.

From Sara's vantage point, what had initially sounded like mental torture in the first week, began to sound like a fun family holiday as her weeks alone dragged into an eternity of solitary confinement.

One day, as Robin started her usual list of complaints, Sara snapped.

“At least you have company. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be locked up alone!”

Robin quipped back.

“Quiet?”

Sara, more upset that Robin at least had something to complain about, reacted sarcastically. “You know what? I’m sick of listening to your complaints. You have a big house, a great husband and two kids, while I’m stuck in a tiny apartment all alone, with nothing, absolutely nothing, to do. If anyone deserves sympathy, it’s me, not you.”

For a minute, that contained an hour’s worth of mutual hostility, the phone was silent. Then it was Robin who broke the deadlock, retaliating with her own grievance, “Anytime you want to trade places, let me know because God knows, I could use the break.”

Unimpressed, Sara had hung up on her sister. That was three days ago, and now as daylight faded, Sara sat on her couch staring at the blank TV, watching the room sink into darkness. The thought of breaking the stalemate by calling her sister was extremely tempting. She was so tempted that she reached for the phone, then restrained herself by picking up a throw cushion instead. Savagely, she hugged it to her chest. Not for the first time, she thought how lucky Robin was to have Bob and the kids. Even before the lockdown, Sara’s love life had been pretty ordinary. Thinking about it, she laughed. Not the kind of laugh that makes you happy. It was the kind of laugh that reminds you about how unhappy you are. Who was she kidding? Her love life wasn’t just ordinary, it was non-existent. She’d tried on-line dating and after the usual flurry of text messages, followed by a phone call or two, Sara would find herself enduring a meaningless conversation with some random stranger, while they both laboured over a cup of coffee or a glass of wine. She had the kind of first dates that didn’t lead to second dates.

As street lights lit up the empty pavement outside her apartment, she stared vacantly at the high rise building opposite hers. Lights came on in various rooms as people wandered in and out and before she realised it, she found herself staring. In normal times, she would have avoided looking into other people’s windows. It was rude. Worse, it was voyeuristic. Suddenly feeling embarrassed by her own actions, she looked away from the window and stared into the gloom of her own studio apartment.

“Nothing to see here, folks,” she said to herself, curling up with the cushion still in her arms.

At some point, she must have fallen asleep because she woke with a start and looked out the window. The street lights were still on but most of the lights in the other building were off, so she thought, it must be late. She started to turn on her own light when she noticed the apartment across from hers. The light was on and she could see a young man sitting at a desk looking at his computer.

She studied him. It was difficult to judge his height but she decided he must be a little taller than herself. He wore glasses and his hair was thinning but otherwise he looked like any other man. He got up from the desk, disappeared for a minute and returned with a glass of something and sat back down. She decided to do the same, so she turned on the light and went into the small kitchen at the back of her apartment but by the time she returned with a glass of wine, his apartment was dark.

The next day she slept in, then treated herself with a trip to the local supermarket and fixed a late lunch. That was followed by an afternoon spent wandering aimlessly through YouTube videos. She never thought the day would come when she got tired of cat videos, but then again, she’d never imagined being locked up alone in her apartment for weeks on end either. Exhausted from doing nothing, she placed her phone on the charger and this time wandered aimlessly around her tiny apartment. She stood at the window, staring at the occasional passerby, trying to remember what normal felt like. Eventually, she found herself in the kitchen staring in the fridge. Figuring it must be time to eat again, she made a simple skillet dinner, which she stood at the stove and ate straight from the pan.

Dinner finished, she poured herself a glass of wine and sat in the dark watching lights come on in the apartments across the street. She watched a young woman about her age, dancing in her living room. In another apartment, the blue light of a TV shown on a couple snuggled together on their lounge. A mother stood looking out her window, baby at her hip, looking the way Sara felt. Then a smile. Movement on the street caught her eye as a man walked towards the entrance to the high rise. He paused, looking up, waved to the woman and child then disappeared into the building opposite. Sara glanced at these portraits of life and wondered if anyone noticed her looking out of her own window.

She’d almost finished her third glass of wine when her attention was peaked by a light coming on in the apartment opposite. The one she’d noticed with the man sitting at his computer. She sat up, watching him as he walked in and out of the room, first removing his jacket, then walking over to turn on his computer, then setting his phone down on the desk. When he disappeared into another room, she became anxious, relaxing only as she saw him return with a plate.

Likewise, she went into her own kitchen, turned on the light and filled a plate with leftovers from her earlier dinner. Returning to her couch, she ate watching him while he ate watching his computer. When he finished and took his plate to the other room, she did the same, but she stopped to pour another wine and turn off the light. Sitting in the dark, she imagined having a conversation with him. First, she would ask how his day had been. Then, she would listen attentively as he told her an amusing story about one of his colleagues. He would undoubtedly ask about hers and she would find something funny and interesting to make him laugh. Together, they would finish off the bottle of wine.

When he turned out his light, she got up and stumbled to her own bed. As she crawled between the sheets, she reimagined her evening. Now, instead of having dinner together, she pictured him working late, which explained why she was going to bed alone. Moving to the edge of the bed, she considerately left his side of the bed empty, but felt a twinge of resentment when she reminded herself that he would probably be up and gone before she woke.

“He works too hard,” she mumbled as she drifted off to sleep.

The next night she set two places at the small kitchen counter that separated the kitchenette from the rest of the room. She moved her bar stool around to the kitchen side of the counter, leaving his on the living room side. She poured two glasses of wine and waited for him to come home.

The clock read 8:15 pm. Dinner was waiting on the stove and she was getting hungry. Staring at the darkened apartment across the way, she fumed, He’s late tonight. I wish he would call when he’s going to be late.

No sooner had she thought these words, then her phone rang. For a moment she stared at the phone thinking, Is that him?

Hesitantly, she picked it up and pressed answer. At the other end she heard Robin’s cheery hello. Sara, relieved to hear from her sister, but not eager to admit it, responded in a neutral tone. “If you’re calling to apologise, it’s OK.”

Robin, unfazed at being made out to be the faulty one, continued, “So tell me you’re not still sulking?”

Actually, Sara had all but forgotten about the argument. “No, of course not. I’ve been keeping myself busy. That’s all.”

Immediately, Robin’s voice became interested. “Busy? Busy doing what?”

“Well, I was going to wait and tell you in person but I've met someone.”

Sara waited for her sister to respond with the appropriate squeals of delight but instead her sister asked suspiciously, “You met someone? How do you meet someone when we’re in lockdown? Don’t tell me you met someone on the internet. You know that never works out for you.”

Sara ignored her sister’s misgivings.

“He lives in an apartment across the hall from mine. We talk in the hall and in the elevator. It’s no big deal.”

“But you haven’t been in a confined space together, have you? Unmasked, I mean. That’s why we’re all in lockdown. Are you taking the necessary precautions.”

While Robin got herself worked up working out the logistics of lockdown romance, Sara saw the light come on in the apartment across the street.

“Robin, everything’s fine but I need to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Disconnecting, Sara sat at the counter eating and watching her neighbour. She drank her glass of wine, then looking at the second glass, she said, “John, aren’t you going to finish yours?”

She had decided his name was John and that he wasn’t going to finish his wine because there were more important things on his mind. She finished his glass in three swallows.

“I think you’re trying to get me drunk,” she said as she cleared the plates off the counter and poured another glass of wine. Tottering towards the couch, she flicked off the light switch. “Oh, you are in a mood, aren’t you,” and fell onto the couch spilling wine on her blouse. “Oops.”

She took another large gulp of wine and set the glass on the floor next to her. Staring across at the apartment, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall open. With one hand she picked up her glass while the other slipped inside her bra, cupping and massaging her breast. She placed one leg over the back of the couch, took a drink, then put the glass back on the floor where it tipped over. Imbibing the smell of wine as it spread across the floor, her mind projected an image of John undressing in front of her.

She closed her eyes, imagining him on top of her, then inside her. The impact was intense and once released, she fell back and stared at the ceiling. As she caught her breath, she was amazed at how caring and responsive he'd been to her needs. It was almost like he'd read her mind.

The next few nights progressed in the same manner. She was in love and it was wonderful. Sara found that waiting all day for him to come home was both a joy and a pain. Joy came in the shape of fantasies that took on new dimensions. There were the fantasies where he would call her several times a day to talk about what they would do once lockdown ended. And the ones where she picked out the places they would visit together. The pain set in when she realised that in her mind, things were getting serious. She wanted him to introduce her to his friends and she wanted him to meet her family. The problem was, he didn’t know that she existed.

One day, as she came home from her regular shopping trip, a sudden cloud burst forced her to dash towards her building. She hadn’t noticed the man who was making a similar dash until they collided. Both their grocery bags fell to the ground, spilling and intermingling their contents. As they fumbled to retrieve the items that had escaped, the man apologised and Sara said that it was as much her fault as his. She picked up an avocado, which he said he believed belonged to him and he handed her a melon that she said was probably hers. In all the confusion, she barely gave him a second look. She hardly noticed when he smiled politely, and made a joke about social distancing. Once the groceries were sorted, there was a brief interlude where they stepped in each other’s way, but that was sorted with appropriate nods and hand signals and so they parted company as innocently as they had come together.

The shopping bag incident had been a comedy of errors but it got Sara thinking. Perhaps she could orchestrate a similar ‘chance encounter’ with John. In other words, she had decided it was time for her and John to meet for real. What she needed to figure out was how to orchestrate this ‘serendipitous meeting’. She’d seen a short film where a man and a woman in opposite office buildings exchanged greetings holding up signs for each other to read through the window. That was out. She certainly didn’t want him to realise she’d been watching him all this time. What if she waiting in the lobby of his building and said when he came in that she’d lost her key? No, that wouldn’t work. He’d probably suggest calling the super and then she might be arrested for trespassing. Maybe she could come out of her lobby as he was heading towards his door, then she could accidentally bump into him. Imagining that scenario, she discarded it as she envisioned herself running towards him and tripping so that she wound up falling at his feet. Every scenario had a flaw but the biggest obstacle of all was the lockdown. Even if they met, how could they get to know each other when they had to remain isolated?

A week later, Robin called. “The lock down is easing,” she declared. “They’re talking about allowing social bubble buddies.”

“And what is that?” asked Sara.

Robin explained that it allowed singles to have another single friend come to visit.

“Aren’t you excited,” enthused Robin. “This means you don’t have to be alone all the time now. I can come visit you.”

Sara listened but she wasn’t thinking about her sister visiting. Instead, her mind was conjuring up other plans.

“That sounds great,” she said, “but didn’t you say it was only for singles?”

“Yes, but I’m sure we can skirt around that limitation.”

“Robin I’d love to see you but I’ve got someone else in mind.”

“Are we talking about that guy in your building?”

Sara redirected the conversation with Robin but setting up a social bubble with John was exactly what she had in mind.

That evening, she poured a glass of wine, turned off the light and watched as John turned on his computer. By now, Sara knew his schedule and was already planning how they would casually meet. Tomorrow, when he left for work, she planned to come out of her door. She would casually stroll alongside of him and mention how happy she was that the government was allowing singles to meet. Once she confirmed that he too was single, she would jokingly suggest that perhaps they should form a social bubble since they lived so close. It was all starting to take shape in her mind as she watched him leave the room. He was gone for about fifteen minutes and she started to worry but then he came back. Instead of walking to his desk, however, he went to his door. Sara straightened up. Her soon to be boyfriend was answering his door. Standing aside, he allowed another young man to enter. Relieved Sara sat back on the couch and sipped her wine. Then as she watched, her boyfriend hugged the other man. OK. With a growing sense of dread, she watched as a kiss on the cheek quickly progressed to more passionate kissing and groping as the two men disappeared into another room. Sara stared in disbelief that quickly turned to outrage.

“That two-timing, no good bastard!”

Furious, she called him every name she could think of as she paced around her room until at last, she threw herself into the middle of her bed, taking up as much room as she liked, and cried herself to sleep.

The next day she consoled herself with a trip to the local grocery store. While she listlessly fingered the avocados, trying to decide which was ripe enough to eat, she reached for a likely candidate only to have it snatched away.

“Sorry. Were you going for the same one?”

Sara looked up and recognised the face but she couldn’t quite place it.

“Hello again.”

Sara still hadn’t placed him.

“It’s me rain man.”

Sara looked at him and he blushed and said, “Not Dustin Hoffman rain man but the guy who bumped into you, in the rain.”

Now, she placed him. “Of course. Sorry I didn’t recognise you,” she wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence, but concluded, “You look different when you’re not,” she started to say clothed but instead said, “drenched.”

“You too.”

Sara felt a bit embarrassed but she wasn’t sure why. She ran her hands over the avocados, pretending to concentrate on them.

“By rights, I should give you first pick of the avocados,” he said, catching her attention again, “but I’m afraid that would spoil my plans.”

“Of course,’ she replied. “Let me guess, you’ve got a date with your social bubble buddy.”

“Exactly,” he said turning his attention to the avocado in his hand. “It’s just that, well, I’ve got a bit of a problem.”

“Haven’t we all,” sighed Sara as she decided to give up on the avocados.

“You see, I’ve been sort of watching someone from a distance and well, meeting her has been difficult.”

“Don’t I know it,” she said turning to leave.

“I mean I’d like to ask her but what if she already has a boyfriend?”

Sara looked back at him and thought he seemed like a nice guy so she said, “Well, I think you should ask her anyway. You never know your luck.”

“Sounds like good advice,” and with that, he gave her a boyish grin. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” she replied. Then almost as an after thought she said, “And good luck.”

He held up the avocado and his smile broadened. “By the way, what are you doing for lunch?”

This confused her.

“Now that I know you like avocados,” he continued, “I was wondering if you’d like to share one for lunch. That is, if you don’t already have a social bubble buddy.”

“No, I mean. No, I don’t have a social bubble buddy.” Her voice trailed off.

“Good because I live in the building next to yours, so maybe you could come to my place for lunch.”

“How do you know where I live?”

“Aside from knocking you over in the rain, I’ve seen you around. Actually, I should confess that I’ve been hoping to meet you. Lock down’s been pretty boring so the highlight of my day has been watching you when you go out shopping.”

He looked a bit sheepish and added, “I hope you don’t think I’m some kind of voyeuristic pervert. I haven’t been staring in your window or anything. It’s just that I look out of

my window and it’s nice when I see you pass by.”

Sara smiled, “What’s your name?”

“Jonathan. And yours?”

“Sara. And yes, I’d like avocado for lunch.”

That night, Sara called Robin. As they were about to hang up, her sister asked, “How’re things in your social bubble?”

Sara looked out her window. A few floors below, in the high rise across the way, she saw a young man standing at his window, looking in her direction. She waved and Jonathan waved back.

“They’re looking up,” she said.