“Relax, Mom,” I reassure her as she takes a breath, ready to ramble on about what symptoms I have and what she thinks I should do. “It’s just a cold.”
“That’s what they all say when they get the coronavirus, Olivia,” Susan scolds. “They all think it’s just a cold and then it gets worse.”
Damn. She has a point.
“Well, I’m not coughing and I don’t have a sore throat.”
She scoffs into the phone. “Olivia, people with simple headaches are testing positive for this virus. You need to go to the emergency room right now and get tested.”
I sigh. I knew she would say something like that, but I truly believe that I just have a cold and nothing more. “Mom, I don’t need to go to the ER. Even if I do have the virus, I’m young. I’m twenty-five and in perfect health. Nothing will happen to me if I do get it.”
“People are dying, Olivia! Old people, young people, people with compromised immune systems, and even children. This is not a joke and it should not be brushed off as something minor.”
I purse my lips and place a hand on my hip. I glance at Quibbles, still lingering by the bathroom door and reminding me of my low-grade fever and chills. Quibbles looks at me as if she agrees, but really. Is it necessary to go to the ER and potentially infect other people? And what about Quibbles if I do have the virus and have to stay at the hospital? Who would take care of her?
She meows, tilting her head to the side as if she’s wondering why I’m even still pondering this. I bet Petra or Mom would feed Quibbles for me if I asked. Besides, my mom and my cat are right. I should go to the ER, just to get checked out.
“Okay,” I sigh resignedly into the phone. “I’ll go.”I hate hospitals.
The smell of bleach and latex infiltrates my nostrils the second the automatic double doors open upon my arrival. To my right, a waiting room with green plastic chairs is vacant, with not a single soul in sight. The walls are so white that I squint my eyes a bit so I can adjust to the sudden brightness of the waiting room. I walk past the empty chairs, puzzled by the hospital’s silence in the midst of a pandemic. I haven’t heard of anyone in Camdale contracting the virus, but I expected there to be numerous people here.
I adjust my mask to secure it over my mouth and nose as I approach the front desk. It’s a long wooden desk with two nurses sitting in office chairs behind a plexiglass shield. Both wear colorful masks that match their vibrant scrubs, but they barely look up from their computers to greet me.
After standing in my pajama shorts and tank top for what feels like an eternity, I clear my throat and knock on the glass. “Hello? I need to be tested for coronavirus.”
At the mention of the virus, they shoot one another worried looks before glancing at me with fearful eyes. Then, the two women snap to it, asking me questions about my name, address, and emergency contact information. After answering their questions, I’m ushered into a small room with worried glances. The two women disappear quickly, clearly hoping to maintain their distance.
When the blue curtain closes, I take off my mask and inhale deeply. The look on the nurses’ faces was scary, especially since I thought the virus was nothing to be concerned about in Camdale. But the barely-contained terror in their eyes tell me otherwise, and I’m faced with the reality that this is a dangerous situation.
I think about all of the people I could have infected and my stomach churns with guilt. I should have taken more precautions. Why did I have to sneeze so many times in the office yesterday? My co-workers are going to hate me. Come to think of it, would Disdale Trout fire me because of this? There must be laws against that, right?
My leg bounces as I wait for the ER doctor, my eyes drifting from the small sink and cabinet duo in the corner of the room to the closed blue curtain directly in front of me. I wipe my sweaty palms on the sheet on the bed, my head pounding with each second that ticks by.
The echo of footsteps sounds and then stops directly in front of my room. I can hear the rustle of paperwork, and a man’s indistinct deep rumble outside. Then, the door opens and all the air rushes out of my chest because this doctor looks like he’s a movie actor, he’s so gorgeous. But he doesn’t even look up.
“Hi, I’m Doctor Monroe,” the man introduces himself as he continues to read the clipboard in his hands. “How are you feeling?” He’s still reading something, so he doesn’t see how utterly dumbfounded I am at his good looks. Thank god, because I’m acting like a dummy. I stare at him, my mouth agape for a few moments as I drink him in. Doctor Monroe has bronzed skin and handsome, masculine features. His nose is strong, with a square jaw and full lips that are almost feminine, they’re so sensual.