Covid Quarantine

Thanks to many for the feedback on my first few stories. Decided to try another in the first person at many people's request. Hope this sounds less like a newspaper story (and yes, that is an apt description for some of my writing, I agree!) Also, being in Australia I tend to use British Australian medical terms, so for those suggesting I need a dictionary, I suggest perhaps you might like to do some further research yourself.

20/5- Have edited the story thanks to feedback- I now try and proof a lot more too! Tom is now Max to avoid confusion and I almost relented on the calloused hands ;-)

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I have always known I work for an understanding boss. The minute the suggestion was made for people to socially distance themselves in order to flatten the curve and help prevent the spread of Covid-19 she suggested that those of us in the office take whatever we needed and work at home.

Currently I work for a major city hotel as an economist. Yes, it's busy at the moment, but whilst we are still up in the air about when the tourism sector might start up again there is not a lot for me to be doing. I enjoy my work, but at a performance appraisal a few years ago my boss recognised I was missing job satisfaction. She told me the happiest she saw me was when I was talking with guests and making them feel at home.

Some might say I have had a life of loss. My father died before I started school, he went to work one morning and never came home. My mothed succumbed to breast cancer when I was in my final year of university. I married a guy I met at uni and he went on to become a top barrister, however after six years of marriage I discovered he had a thing for his secretaries and whilst we had been trying to conceive a child for four years, he had no difficulties in knocking one of them up.

I did well in the settlement and was able to purchase a lovely apartment overlooking the bay. I adore my home space and love staring out at the water either from my balcony or in my lounge or bedroom.

After my job appraisal, I rang my brother, Max and asked his advice. Max is a couple of years younger me, a doctor rising through the ranks and happily married to Sarah with a beautiful son, Hugo and a newborn, Matilda, or Tilly for short. At the time, Max and Sarah invited me over for dinner and tried to go through my options.

"Miranda, what did you want to be when you were, say 5?" asked Sarah.

"I wanted to be a nurse, like Mum. She may have only worked for a GP and she appeared to enjoy her job, but her stories of working in the hospital before Dad died always had me enthralled."

I went on to explain that career choices were fluid throughout my teen years- Mum had suggested medicine, however I hated chemistry. I thought of physiotherapy and did Work Experience in an office but soon decided this was not for me. I settled on economics and thought I might be a teacher after I was inspired by my economics teacher at school, but the idea of teaching 30 grotty teenagers repulsed me now!

By the end of the night the same career kept creeping up- nursing. Despite Max's protests that perhaps I should try for medicine, I decided that at the age of 30 I could not see myself studying for 6 years and then doing all the years required before I became a specialist.

"Plus," added Sarah, who knows when Mr Right will pop up and who knows if a family might be on the cards!"

I remember scolding Sarah. I do love her and Max dearly, however at that time especially I doubted my life would ever have a happily-ever-after moment.

So, nursing it was and I took to it like a duck to water. I have been studying part-time and working four days per week so I have had little time for a social life, however I know when I graduate I will be much better off in a job I feel betters the community rather than crunching numbers and making predictions that often do not come true.

I relish my solitude and looked forward to being able to work from home and study at the same time. I was behind on my pathophysiology coursework and looked forward to catching up and beginning to study for the exam. I already had a small home office set up in the corner of the lounge, however I did appreciate being able to bring my work chair home. I also planned to sit and listen to music gazing out my window. I do not own a television and I have always preferred music and reading to sitting in front of a flickering screen.

A couple of days into working from home, I received a call from Max, "Randi," he said, the only one allowed to call me this, "One of my colleagues, Tim Galloway, is returning from a trip hiking in Nepal and he needs to self-isolate for 14 days. His housemates are all medicos so he can't crash there, and we can't have him for similar reasons- could he crash on your couch?"

I tried to argue that my unit really wasn't big enough- whilst it had a large bathroom and kitchen-lounge area, there was no second bedroom and the thought of having someone share my space 24/7 for 14 days, plus more should he be infected did not appeal to me. I suggested I book him a room at the hotel, but Max thought he needed someone to be with to ensure he was cared for should he come down with the dreaded virus.

"Randi, honestly, Tim is one of the nicest guys you will ever meet. He's a top doctor and he will help you with your pathophysiology work, plus he's willing to buy all your groceries, pay some rent and get take-away every other night!"

What Max did not add was that Tim was exceptionally good looking and had had similar hardships in his life to me.

"His flight gets in at 11 tomorrow morning- could you grab him from the airport, please? It would mean so much to me!"

I was used to my younger brother getting his way- I was a willing babysitter, however I also knew that whenever Max said jump, I simply asked how high. My couch converts into a bed which Hugo has often slept on, but someone else in my space did not sit that well with me. Still, I had agreed with my brother and as I had told him, he now owed me one. Well he owed me lots, but I do love him, and he is the only family I have.

I was at the airport the following day with a sign with Tim's name on it. I did not really know what to expect, however figured a doctor living in a share house was probably one of the juniors and he was unlikely to be older than his mid 20s. I was pleasantly surprised then when a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties started walking towards me. He was tall with an athletic build and blonde wavy hair. It was his deep blue eyes that captivated me though.

"Miranda?" He smiled and offered his hand, "I'm Timothy, well everyone calls me Tim, and, wow, thank-you so much for offering to put me up, and, oh, fuck, we aren't meant to shake hands are we, sorry. Um, I wanted to stay in a hotel, but Max wouldn't allow it."

His smile caught me off guard. I tried to be angry with my brother in my mind, but Tim had put me at ease. I figured that at least I would have a little eye candy to stare at for a couple of weeks.

I am usually relatively reserved, however on the drive to my apartment, Tim was easily able to get me to open up about my career, my studies and even about my ex-husband.

"Tim, I'm so sorry, but my apartment is really quite small. Hugo finds the couch comfortable, but he's not as tall as you, but if you aren't comfortable then I can probably sleep on it and you can take my bed." I tried to explain as we took the lift to my digs.

Tim would not hear of this however and told me I had already gone out of my way to take him in and he would sleep on the floor in a corner if he needed to. He explained he still had his sleeping bag and mat from his trek, and he was willing to sleep on those for another fortnight.

"Miranda, I'm so sorry to place you in isolation too," Tim clarified. "I really will try and keep out of your way- I just hope you may have a book or two I could borrow to read!"

In my mind I reasoned he actually seemed to be a decent guy. When I opened the door, Tim was floored. He kept telling me what a stunning apartment I had. He was extremely taken by the three huge bookcases and made all the right sort of noises about the view. I showed him the bathroom and where I had cleared space for him in there. I mentioned that there was room in my bedroom closet for him to store clothes, but I also added that I would prefer if I could keep my bedroom to myself.

Tim agreed and said he had never assumed he would go anywhere near my bedroom. I have never considered myself to be beautiful, but I will admit I have the curves in the right places and several times that day I caught Tim catching a glance of my rear in my jeans.

I fixed a salad for lunch and Tim raved about it- fresh vegetables was what he had missed most hiking. He told me about his trip and how the hike had been cut short because of the emerging pandemic and he had decided to fly home early which was fortunate as the borders were about to close.

Max texted me and said he had picked up some groceries and was going to leave them at my door that afternoon. Tim and I sat down and did some meal planning and Tim put in a grocery order himself to tide us over. I insisted I had plenty of food in my pantry, but Tim was unrelenting, plus he also insisted he would be the chief cook for the week, giving me more time to study and work.

The doorbell rang around 5pm and I saw Max at the other end of her passageway- he waved and gave me the thumbs up. I laughed and took the two bags of groceries inside. One bag contained salad items and two rib eye steaks- my favourite, and the other was tied at the handles. Tim was helping me unpack the groceries when he saw me freeze and heard, "I'm going to fucking kill him."

Tim peeked inside the bag himself and laughed as he pulled out three packets of condoms.

"I'm so sorry, Miranda, but please understand I did not ask Max to get these." Tim clarified however I was angry and upset.

I explained I needed a break and headed for my room and closed the door. Why did Max do things like this? He knew I was busy working and studying and what my ex had put me through. I texted Max, 'Why do you always have to be such a dick? Why the condoms? Did you suddenly assume that you put two people in a house together for a fortnight and they'd be fucking like rabbits all the time? Tim is lovely, but I don't have time for a relationship, and you know that.'

Max's reply stung. He told me that he didn't want me ending up like our mother, alone for all those years after Dad died. I lay on my bed and cried. I knew Mum had been lonely, but as a teenager I did not know how to introduce her to new men.

After pulling myself together, I came out from my room. I could not help but laugh. Tim had blown up so many condoms into balloons and decorated the lounge and kitchen with them.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, "but I thought the place could do with some decoration. Max also included some chocolate and wine in that bag so here is a glass, now go and sit whilst I get going with dinner. I've already got a potato bake in the oven and have made a salad and will cook the steaks when the potato is almost done."

I sat on the couch and sipped my wine. I pressed play on the CD player, not remembering what was in there. It was John Coltrane.

Tim was pottering in the kitchen and I looked over to see him humming to the music. "You don't mind jazz?" I asked my cook for the evening.

Tim explained he loved jazz and used to play the trumpet growing up. I told Tim that I had played piano and became interested in jazz when I was studying economics. I told Tim of evenings in jazz bars, but also mentioned my husband hated the genre so I had stopped listening to it for years and had only recently begun again.

"You know there's an amazing jazz club about three blocks east from here," Tim explained, "I suppose being quarantined we can't go, but perhaps when this is over, I mean, not as a date or anything, but I could take you out for an evening to say thank-you."

That did sound nice. Tim cooked the steaks to perfection and added a creamy garlic sauce to them. "I knew it was going to be us only and no one else would have to experience our garlic breath so I added more than usual, I hope that's ok?"

Another smile came to my lips. My ex had hated garlic and I used to include it in recipes despite his protestations, often with him being oblivious to this. With the bottle of wine finished I felt a little more courage growing.

"So, I am hopeless with ages, but I will be honest and say you don't look 25, so why a share house still?"

It was Tim's turn to open up. He explained that medicine had not been his first career. He started studying science and worked in a lab for a few years before he realised it was not helping people and he went back and studied medicine. He explained it did not come naturally to him and he had to work very hard at each subject. He too was married, but after a year or so, his wife did not appreciate him going back to uni and resented supporting them both. Like my ex she had sought the attractions of others and he returned home early from a placement to find her in bed with one of his good friends.

Tim explained that he focussed on his medicine and could not be bothered arguing with his ex over material items. She got the house and mortgage and he was left with nothing. He moved in with another couple of students and they had stayed in a share house despite him having worked for a couple of years as a doctor.

"I'm 37 and I know things won't stay the same- Johnno's getting married next year and Simon is spending more time at his partner's place than in the house, but I have been saving and I should be able to buy something in the next 12 months, that is unless I travel more!" Tim explained.

We talked of where we had each travelled and where we wanted to travel. Before long it was midnight and I helped Tim convert the couch and make the bed.

As I lay in bed, I thought about how genuinely nice Tim was. He listened and did not interrupt and could understand what it was like reinventing your career. He was an amazing cook and he did not look 37. I thought about his kind eyes and how his long fingers delicately gripped the wine glass. I also chastised myself for thinking of my houseguest and reminded myself 13 more days only.

The smell of bacon woke me around 8am. I had not set an alarm, and this was later than I usually slept. I wrapped myself in a robe and went to investigate.

"Good morning, Miranda, I hope you don't mind, but I was hungry! Oh, and I made myself a coffee, would you prefer a tea though?" Tim instructed me to sit down as he made me a coffee.

Over breakfast we planned our day. Tim said he had asked Johnno to drop over some clothes for him because he did not feel like wearing his hiking gear for the next fortnight. He said he was so impressed with my library and had already grabbed a Terry Pratchett book to read if that was ok with me.

I explained I would check work emails but there was not a lot to do for work, however I needed to knuckle down with my pathophysiology coursework. I said that I would not be walking my usual 10,000 steps around the apartment so I thought I might challenge myself to some other exercises and planned to do 100 push ups per day. Tim thought this was a great idea and asked if I would mind if he pushed up beside me.

Sitting at my workstation, I put my headphones on. I clicked play on the video lecture and started taking notes. As the lecture finished, I noticed a glass of cold water was placed next to me with no comment. I looked up and smiled at Tim and thanked him. He was engrossed in his book.

Groceries were delivered later in the morning and Tim put them away. He tossed an apple to me at one stage which was greeted with another appreciative smile. Over lunch he questioned me about my studies that morning and gave some great tips on remembering the content. I discovered I genuinely liked having Tim there cooking for me and waiting on me hand and foot.

At 4.30, Tim suggested I put the books away and we do some more push ups. We had completed 50 after lunch. Push ups turned into sit ups and other ab exercises that I had not done for years. Tim was obviously fit, however it was difficult to see a lot of muscle definition behind his long pants and long sleeved shirt despite the cuffs being rolled up a little.

The doorbell rang and I checked to find clothes dropped off for Tim and a carton of wine with a bow on it and a card. I carried the deliveries inside and opened the card. It was from Max who had dropped it off at some stage during the day apologising for the condoms.

Tim chose another jazz cd from my collection. He opened a bottle of wine and poured me a glass suggesting I sit and listen to the music whilst he went and showered. When he reappeared, I was shocked. Tim was buff! His legs looked like tree trunks and I could see his shoulder and arm muscles through his singlet top. Tim reminded me that he would be buying take away for dinner that night, but I said I would be just as happy with his cooking. Tim whipped up a quick stir fry and it was yummier than anything that could have been delivered for dinner.

After dinner conversation again flowed with the help of the wine. We discovered we had both been divorced the same time around 5 years. Talk turned to dating and I said that I had been on a few dates when I was newly separated, however I soon discovered I liked having time to myself. Tim noted that in his late 30s it was hard to find people to date who weren't married or had children.

"I'm at least 10 years older than most of my peers and whilst some of them are lovely, I could not imagine dating any of them! I'd like to have children one day, but I'd rather raise my own than someone else's even if that makes me sound bad." Tim rationalised.

I explained most of my friends were married with children and I had lost touch. "I will say, Tim, that it has been lovely just chatting with you these last couple of days."

Tim agreed. I knew I had found a friend in Tim regardless of what happened after our quarantine, however I wondered if perhaps there might be more.

The next few days carried on in similar veins to the past. I studied, Tim read, cooked meals for us and the two of us chatted in the evenings. I knew I was developing feelings for Tim, but I was unsure if he felt the same way. Each evening he talked of friendship and perhaps, I thought, that would have to be enough.

Later in the week in the wee hours of the morning, I woke from a nightmare and let out a scream from my room. Tim knocked on my door. "Miranda, Miranda, are you ok? It's Tim, I'm here if you need me."

I opened my door and dissolved into tears in Tim's arms. I was wearing a shoestring nightgown, however in my distress I did not notice that Tim could see the shape of my nipples through the thin top.

"Come, let's sit down and you can tell me about it," Tim suggested. He grabbed me a glass of water and we sat on the couch, or as it was, Tim's bed and I talked. I had dreamt Max and Sarah had taken Hugo and Tilly and were refusing to let me see them or talk to them because I did not like letting people into my life.

Tim reminded me it was just a dream and suggested I head back to bed. He stroked my hair and kissed me on the head. At one stage I wondered if that was a bulge growing in his pyjama bottoms.

The following morning, I tried to apologise for my outburst in the middle of the night. As I had done every morning since Tim's return to the country, I took his temperature looking for signs of the dreaded Covid-19. Tim admitted he felt well and did not think he was showing any symptoms of the virus. I told Tim I did not feel like studying and thought a day off might do me good. I too grabbed a novel and sat on the couch to read.