Only You by K.T. Quinn

36

Donovan

The Day I Fucked Up

I was so fucking stupid.

I knew we were running a risk by going out. I had taken every precaution to make sure we wouldn’t get caught: moving slowly, pausing every couple of minutes to listen for cops, not using the light on our phones. But as soon as Molly insisted on seeing more of the Oppian Hill, I folded like a cheap table. I let her take her phone out to illuminate the information signs. And then I let her convince me to go out a different way, even though it meant a longer walk home in an area we didn’t know.

As I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling and listening to Molly’s breathing next to me, my anger faded. Now I was mad at myself for yelling at her. Okay, maybe I didn’t yell at her. But I definitely took out my frustration on her. That wasn’t fair. Hell, going out into the city was my idea in the first place. She originally wanted to stay in and watch a movie. So if anyone was to blame for getting caught, it was me.

It feels like our first fight.

That thought conjured new emotions in my chest. Firsts were for people in a relationship. But what were we? Two people killing time with each other while waiting for a ticket home?

When all of this had started, I didn’t have much of a plan. There was a cute girl staying in the hotel room next to mine, and she was willing to trade wine for pasta. When we hooked up, I figured it would be a good way to spend the quarantine. Some no-strings-attached fun while we waited out the lockdown.

But Molly was so much more than that. I was certain of it now. She was beautiful, and smart, and constantly found new ways to make me laugh. I knew all of her little quirks, including the way she hummed to herself while brushing her teeth, and how she always tapped her feet happily when she took the first bite of dinner.

Molly was special, and I was falling head-over-heels for her.

But how did she feel about me? Was I just a stranger she was sharing her bed with until she could go back to her life in Elkhart, Indiana? Had I ruined my chance for something more by snapping at her?

I tossed and turned all night thinking about it.

At six in the morning I gave up on trying to get any sleep. I quietly slipped out of bed and got dressed. Molly was a dark shape under the covers, rising and falling slowly with each breath. Once again I was struck by just how gorgeous she was, even asleep. Like an angel that had found her way into my bed.

I slipped out the front door of the hotel while it was still dark out. Civilians were permitted to go to the grocery store between six and ten in the morning. Would the cops that had caught us last night still let me leave? I hoped I wouldn’t have to find out.

I walked down the middle of the street like I wasn’t doing anything wrong. The store was about two miles away—three kilometers, I corrected in my head—and I got to enjoy the gorgeous Italian sunrise on the way, filling the sky with streaks of pink above the red-tiled roofs.

A cop nodded to me on the way, but didn’t say anything. I walked a little bit faster.

I got to the grocery store early, before a line had formed. It was a relief to walk around inside without having to dodge people in every aisle. I retrieved a box of condoms from the pharmacy section and then headed to the check-out line. We didn’t need any food since the kitchen at the hotel was still stocked, but I swung by the produce section just in case.

The fresh fruits were wiped out. There was only a single orange in the bin, bruised and pitiful looking. If I brought that home to Molly it would probably make her cry.

“Excuse me,” I said to a passing employee. I pointed at the orange. “More? Um, quando?”

He looked at the stand and shook his head.

Oh well. I tried.

The check-out guy scanned my condoms and made a comment in Italian. He chuckled, so he was probably joking about how I was having a better quarantine than he was. I laughed as if I understood, then left the store.

I was tempted to go home, but it was still early. I checked the map on my phone. There was another grocery store three kilometers to the east, deeper into the city. It made a triangle with my current location and our hotel, which meant it wouldn’t be that much farther to go home if I swung by there.

I decided it was worth a try. I needed to make up for being a dick last night. Plus I wanted to see the smile on her face if I came bearing gifts.

As the sun climbed above the tiled Roman roofs, the streets narrowed and became more crowded with people. The morning rush of people going to the store while they were allowed.

Soon it became difficult to keep two meters of space between myself and everyone else. One woman behind me kept coughing into her sleeve, like she had something in her throat that she couldn’t get out. I glanced back at her nervously—everyone was giving her a wide berth.

It’s probably a normal cough because of allergies, I told myself. It felt like a comforting lie.

I hurried along as best as I could to the next store. It was about the same size as the previous one, but this one had a long line out the front. After walking this far, I figured I might as well wait. I would wait an hour for Molly, if I had to.

I read the news on my phone while the line slowly crept forward. Cases were spiking in the big coastal cities back home: New York, San Francisco, Los Angeles. Boston wasn’t as bad as those, but cases were still rising steadily. Hospitals would be at capacity soon, a Boston Globe article predicted.

As I reached the front of the line, I noticed a woman standing by the entrance. She had a baby in one arm, and a cardboard sign in the other. I translated the sign on my phone: Need money for diapers.

Fuck. I couldn’t imagine going through this sort of global event with a baby. It was a reminder that in the grand scheme of things, I was lucky as hell. Camping out in a four-star hotel wasn’t so bad.

I fished around in my pocket for Euros, but then a police officer ran up to the woman and started yelling. He gestured, and she quickly scurried away from the front door. When she was across the street, she resumed bouncing the baby and holding up her sign.

“Signore? Mi scusi?” the man at the front of the store called to me.

I apologized and let him scan my forehead temperature.

Even though the stores looked similar in size on the exterior, this one was much smaller on the inside. The ceiling was lower and the aisles were more narrow. But they were allowing the same number of people inside, crammed into a smaller space.

I stood in the entranceway and debated what to do. This definitely felt more risky than my other grocery trip. Every instinct was telling me to turn around and go home. But I could see the produce section to my right, and it was stocked.

For Molly, I thought stubbornly.

I weaved through the displays in the open produce section. One woman had a face shield covering her entire head like a plastic welding mask. Another couple hastily grabbed avocados while scanning their surroundings, eyes wide and fearful behind their masks. The butcher was next to the produce, and there was a long line that snaked through the entire section. I had to backtrack and circle around to avoid getting close to anyone.

As I picked my way through the building, I felt my anxiety rise. My pulse throbbed in my temple like a drum. I got caught between two people by the onion display and had to wait for one of them to move. A man nearby suddenly sneezed, which made me jump and then squeeze past the woman blocking my way.

Finally I reached the orange display. And oh baby, it was worth it. There were individual Valencia oranges stacked high, and big bags full of them underneath the display. I grabbed one bag, then grabbed a second one. If Molly was serious about how much she loved oranges, then one bag wouldn’t last very long.

Time to make a break for it. The checkout lines were short right now, if I could get through the crowd in time.

I started that way, then stopped.

There’s one more thing I need to do.

I made a detour deeper into the store. It was crowded, and I couldn’t avoid getting within one meter of several customers, however I found what I was looking for near the back. When I returned to the front of the store, the checkout lines were longer than before. I decided it was still worth it.

I exited the store and walked across the street. The woman with the baby and cardboard sign looked longingly at the box under my arm. I could see the desperation in her eyes, and the pride she was swallowing just to be outside, begging.

“Mi scusi,” she said in a shuddering voice.

With my hand holding the bags of oranges, I pointed at her sign. Then I held out the big box of diapers I had purchased. Her eyes jumped from the box, to my face, then back to the box. She babbled a question to me in Italian.

“Um, per te, I think?” I said. “These are for you. That’s what I’m trying to say. Per te?”

Tears ran down her cheeks and the cardboard sign fell to the ground. She took the box of diapers with one hand, placed it on the ground, and then lunged at me, hugging me tightly with her free hand while clutching the baby in the other.

“Grazie,” she whispered through her mask. “Grazie, grazie, grazie…” The baby was pressed between us, and he looked up at me with big blue eyes, wondering who this strange man was.

Alarm bells went off in my head. Aside from Molly, this was the first physical contact I’d had with anyone in weeks. In terms of pandemic safety, it was the worst thing I could have done.

But she clung to me like I was her savior, and I couldn’t bring myself to push her away. “You’re welcome.” I patted her on the back with my free hand.

I didn’t like praise. It felt immodest taking credit for a good deed, or bragging about an accomplishment. I did it to help her, not to give myself a pat on the back. If there had been a way to give her the diapers anonymously, I totally would have done that.

She finally let go of me, then scooped up the box under one arm. Even though most of her face was covered by her mask, the look in her eyes was unmistakable.

Happiness. And hope.

I waved goodbye and slung my oranges over a shoulder.

It’s just a hug, I thought while walking home. It was worth it to help her.