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It had been two months since you had moved into your new condo, and you had yet to meet the neighbor with whom you shared a balcony.
Work was hectic, and you spent many late nights in the office. It was stressful, but, truthfully, you were glad to have a blossoming career. “Job security,” you supposed. You would not complain.
But with news of a global pandemic, COVID-19, you were sentenced to working from home. You actually preferred the office — you got along just fine with your coworkers, had a decently short commute, and liked separating your work life from whatever little personal life you had.
Still, you were forced out. You packed a box, filling it with your many documents and research papers, tested your remote access, and went home.
Hopefully, these isolation measures would flatten the curve and ensure that hospitals would be able to keep up with the rising number of cases. It was a noble cause, you thought, and the quicker this would be over, the quicker you could get back to your life.
Nevertheless, even after a single day of being locked up, you started to feel a little anxious, realizing that this would be your reality over the next few weeks or months. You pushed your chair in as you paced toward the balcony door, staring at the city below.
The world was hectic outside. You could only hope it would calm soon.
You unlatched the door and stepped into the open air. It was soothing, feeling the wind on your face. You had never been outside on the balcony since you moved in, only sparing a peek long enough to notice that your neighbor had an avid green thumb, before signing the contract. Now, you took the opportunity to study the many potted plants, the garden boxes, the trellises lined up neatly in the soil.
There were flowers and vines, ferns and herbs — really, you didn’t know anything about these plants, but you admired your neighbor’s ability to nurture them. They looked healthy and cheerful, calm, despite the news of the pandemic.
“Well, hello,” someone said. “You must be _____.”
You looked behind you, not realizing that your neighbor had only their screen closed. “Oh, hi,” you said. “Please don’t mind me. I’m just appreciating your garden. I’d shake your hand, but I do believe the professional recommendation is to avoid touching others.”
“You’d be correct,” he said, opening the screen door to step outside.
You were caught off guard by how handsome your neighbor was. His red hair was vibrant, tousled gently in the evening breeze, unruly and composed at the same time. He was tall, lean, his shirt pressed and buttoned, not a collar out of place. Most notable, however, were his eyes — they were like a forest of evergreen, stretching on and on for miles.
“How did you know my name?” you asked, shaking yourself of the awe.
“I received some of your mail the other day,” he said, offering you a couple of envelopes. “Don’t worry — I wash my hands frequently.”
“Thank you so much.” You accepted the mail with a grateful smile. “So what’s your name, neighbor?”
“Shuichi,” he said. “It’s good to finally meet you. I take it you work long hours?”
“I do, but I haven’t seen you around either. You, too?”
He chuckled. “Guilty.”
“What do you do for a living, Shuichi?”
“I work at the local hospital as a physician.”
“Oh, my goodness. You must be crazy busy right now.”
“Mm. The number of cases is surging, unfortunately.”
“Is it manageable for the hospital?”
“As of now, yes, but it’s quite possible we may be inundated with more patients who require hospitalization. We’ve already started precautionary measures, setting up tents for isolation spaces and drive-through clinics for the ill. The supply chain is heavily strained.”
“I imagine you’re working lots of overtime right now. Thank you for everything you do.”
Shuichi grinned. “You can thank me by staying home. It’s possible that I’ll become infected due to the amount of contact I have with patients. I’ll be fine even so, but it’s wise to limit social interactions as much as we can.”
“Please be careful,” you said. “I’ll be working from home, so I have that part of the equation covered.”
“Good. Avoiding leaving unless you require necessities.”
“I don’t know if I could buy necessities, even if I tried. Have you been to the stores recently? It’s like they’ve been ransacked.”
“Are you in need of anything in particular?”
“Well, I am down to my last two rolls of toilet paper. Normally, it’s not a problem, but I’m not going to the office to work anymore during the day.”
“I have some I can spare,” he said.
“That’s so nice of you, but I don’t want to dip into your reserves. I’m sure you have an equally difficult time getting your hands on paper products.”
“Actually, I have plenty. My mother is well-prepared and at the first news of the virus, she dropped off far more than I need.”
You tilted your head to the side, wondering how you went two months without meeting this charming person. “Thank you,” you said. “If it’s not too much trouble, I could really use any you can spare.”
In the next few weeks, you found yourself eager to see Shuichi. You learned that he tended to his garden every evening, so you made a point to step outside during those times to keep him company as he watered and pruned.
“So what’s the recommended distance that people should keep apart?” you asked one evening.
“Six feet,” Shuichi said, sparing you a quick glance from where you sat on your side of the shared balcony. “I know you’re safe at home, but it’s wise to distance yourself from me. I work with many high risk patients, and it’s possible I’ve been exposed as well.”
“We can’t have that. You and other healthcare workers are most at risk. I hope you’re well-protected on the job.”
“We do what we can, but supplies are dwindling. That’s why it’s so important that those who can stay home stay home. Social distancing is one of the few viable methods we can fully apply during these times.”
“Flattening the curve.”
“Correct. Researchers suggest that a vaccine won’t be discovered for at least a year, and even then, production and distribution is required. That is far too long — the vaccine won’t save us. When we study the curves in question, a fast spread and a slow spread impact the same amount of people — that is inevitable without a vaccine. However, the slow spread, countered by social distancing and basic hygiene practices, allows the healthcare system to treat a manageable number of patients, those who require hospitalization. The mortality rate of COVID-19 is low, but if the healthcare system is overwhelmed or compromised, then results could be disastrous.”
“I’m glad we have people like you who are in the frontlines,” you said. “You’re taking huge risks being out there during this time. I hope you get a raise and a lot of gratitude from your patients and the rest of society.”
Shuichi chuckled, setting down the garden hose. “That’s kind of you to say. We’ll all get through this eventually. Until then, we all should take reasonable precautions. It’s only a matter of time.”
“As long as everyone does their part, of course. Social distancing is most effective if everyone does it.”
“True. But you do what you can, _____. That’s all anyone can ask of you. You’re playing your part, keeping yourself secluded, preventing yourself from becoming infected and potentially infecting others.”
“I’m happy to do it because I know how much it benefits everyone, but it does get lonely being here by myself all day.”
“Of course. Humans are social creatures.” He stepped toward the railing of the balcony, staring off into the sunset. “You must practice self-care.”
You nodded, joining him, making sure to keep the recommended six feet of distance between you. “You, too, Shuichi. What do you do to relax when you come home from work? You seem to enjoy gardening.”
“It has always been a hobby of mine. I may call my mother in the evenings or read. It behooves me to stay up-to-date on the most recent medical advances. And what about you?”
“I might chat with friends or family. Maybe watch some Netflix or do some writing. I want to help out with local small restaurants, so I’ve been ordering out a lot and opting for no contact delivery. Speaking of which, I think I might put in an order now with the Thai place down the street. Do you want anything?”
He pulled out his phone. “I’ll have a look at the menu.”
Months passed. It was the same routine, day after day, and it wore on you. The long hours from the comfort of your home were exhausting. You reminded yourself to take frequent breaks to freshen your mind, and you often skyped with your friends and family to keep in touch.
You limited your time leaving the condo, only going to the store for groceries and other necessities. You ordered a few items from Amazon for your own entertainment — puzzles, crafts, video games, etc.
These were trying times.
But what surprised you the most was what you found most bothersome. It wasn't loneliness — your inner circle was in the same boat and more than happy to spend virtual time with you. It wasn’t boredom — you were quite content with your personal hobbies when you weren’t working.
You were beginning to develop feelings for Shuichi. The time you spent with him warmed your heart. His dedication to caring for others, despite the risk to himself, was touching. You saw how tired he was in the evenings; some nights were worse than others. Nevertheless, he always had a kind smile for you, letting the weariness of the day’s events melt away as you conversed.
You had dinner together often — six feet apart. You sat on the shared balcony together, admiring the stars — six feet apart. You talked about philosophy, the deepest topics you would never bring up with others — six feet apart.
There were moments you wanted to reach out, perhaps touch his shoulder or grasp his hand, especially when he seemed overwhelmed.
You wondered if he felt the same.
You made him laugh once — it wasn’t his usual reserved chuckle, but a real laugh. Shuichi had such a beautiful laugh, a sincere expression of amusement, and afterward his green eyes crinkled in fond affection as he smiled at you.
Maybe it was all in your head.
But it couldn’t be just that. He wouldn’t spend so much time with you out on the balcony if he didn’t at least enjoy your company. You held onto this belief, pressing it tightly against your heart.
March gave way to April, April to May. The government-mandated quarantine would only last for two months. However, the COVID-19 virus was still out there, as contagious as ever. At this point, analysts suggested that the economy required stimulation to stay afloat, and the research seemed to support that the healthcare system could provide for an influx of new cases. More than anything, fears needed to be quelled.
Thus, normal activities resumed — schools were reopened on a part-time basis to make up for the two months of education that were lost. Businesses continued, benefiting from government stimulus packages. The stock market picked up again, rewarding investors for their patience. Even when you went back to work for collaborative projects, you worked from home whenever you could — it was what your employer wanted.
However, the recommendation remained to practice social distancing and frequent hand-washing, if it could be helped. Shuichi was particularly mindful of this, and he insisted on staying six feet apart so he would not put you or his patients at risk.
Summer became fall. The weather grew cold, too cold to really spend time outside. Still, Shuichi tended to his plants, and you kept your conversations brief. One day, you found him setting up a small fire pit, and your evening rendezvous continued. You thought it was sweet of him to be so thoughtful.
The world seemed to calm down. The number of COVID-19 cases dropped, though they dwindled on.
It would not be until spring that a vaccine was discovered. You went to a local clinic and stood in line for it — you felt a wave of relief wash over you as soon as the nurse placed a band-aid on your arm.
That evening, you stepped onto your balcony. Shuichi was waiting for you, seated at the table. He noticed the band-aid immediately. “I see you’ve been vaccinated,” he said.
“Yeah, so I guess you could say I’ve been infected.”
He chuckled at your joke. “It’s possible that we healthy adults have been asymptomatic this whole time. I, too, received my vaccine this morning, just in case.” He stood, pacing over to you, stopping at a safe distance. “Do you feel comfortable, _____?”
“Comfortable with you walking into my bubble?” you said with a grin. “Why not? With a vaccine available, COVID-19 isn’t much of a threat anymore.”
Shuichi nodded. The moment he cleared the usual six-foot radius, you felt your heart race in your chest, thumping rhythmically. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes full of mischief and mirth. “Good,” he said as he touched you, hands on either side of your face, thumbs running across your cheeks in a tender caress. “I’ve been wanting to do this for some time.” And he leaned in to kiss you, his lips warm and soft against yours.
You fell toward him, your hands on his chest. Being able to touch him after all this time was a gratifying sensation, sating that tingling fire in your soul. It was the moment you had only dreamed about, the anticipation clear in the way you leaned into him. Truthfully, you felt relieved that he chose to express his feelings for you — it brought you immense happiness, the uncertainty that came with the possibility of an unrequited love melting away.
When he finally broke the kiss, he looked into your eyes, giving you the gentlest of smiles. “I propose we celebrate this newfound freedom,” he said. “Now that we no longer have to remain six feet apart, will you allow me the honor of taking you to dinner?”
You kissed him this time, a quick token of your affection. “I would love that, Shuichi.”