Quarantined After Twenty-Six Years?

(Revised 11/13/2022)

Though the characters of this story are from The Perils of Love, this submission was written and submitted in June of 2020 as a stand-alone story for the "Loving the One(s) You're With" contest.

Though it didn't win or place, this tale was quoted in an article in the US edition of The Guardian, "From neighborly romances to Zoom sex: the boom in lockdown erotica." We're honored at the mention.

If you enjoy it, you might want to read The Perils when you have some time. It's a full-length novel and the backstory of the characters.

I've actually been keeping track.

Why? Because, as you might already know, I'm a data-driven nerd-herder. That's what having degrees in mechanical engineering and mathematics does to a person. Or, well, I suppose it's possible to be the other way around. Maybe I'm a math-heavy engineer because I'm a nerd.

Anyway, I'd just disconnected from my 475th Zoom conference of the past eighty-five days.

Eighty-five freaking days! That's how long it's been since I've sat in my own office on campus.

Yeah, I know, "cry me a river," right? We're all in this together, they say. But still. Eighty-five days? The whole freaking world has gone nuts.

I love my job. I really do. And I still have one, which I absolutely count as a blessing. My corporation was deemed essential because a number of the things we manufacture are parts of other systems needed to build medical equipment, automate factories, make warehouses and distribution centers move shipments faster, and plenty of other things.

Because of the business's status, there hasn't been a single furlough of our own employees, but a good chunk of our contracted services were terminated. After all, who needs to clean the bathrooms if there's no one in the buildings using them? Who needs to keep the vending machines stocked since no one is buying anything? Why do the campuses' landscapes need to be maintained as frequently if people aren't going to see them? The lights are all turned off, so the bulbs aren't burning out, HVAC systems are turned way back so filters aren't getting dirty as fast, so why keep ten people around to do such periodic maintenance when one or two suffice?

Simple. Those who no longer have their jobs do.

Anyway, I digress.

The 475th teleconference was, at least, beyond the norm. There were four employees on the call.

As I'm sure it is for almost every other human working from home, most participants joining conferences do so only with audio. After all, no one wants to display their messy states, overgrown hair, or uncolored roots. No one wants to exhibit their grooming, or lack thereof, or be seen in their pajamas.

On that particular call, all were friends except for one person who didn't know the rest of us at all. Despite the presence of that unknown individual, we were all on the cameras that time.

I'm a mechanical engineer specializing in automation and controls. The second participant was one specializing in robotics. Her name was Olivia Reading. Her husband, Chris, an electrical engineer in the physical facilities group, was also helping out. Chris, Liv, and I are good friends.

The most critical member of the call was one of the technicians at a remote facility. He was on the manufacturing floor with a GoPro Hero 4K video camera attached to his laptop which was connected via WiFi to the corporate network.

With our guidance, he carefully pointed the camera at various displays and subsystems of a hobbled turbine gas compressor which refused to spin at its commanded 27,000 RPM, thus forcing our Seattle factory to idle the quarter of the floor that depended on it.

In ordinary circumstances, the three of us would have flown to Seattle to do the troubleshooting and diagnostics in person. But these are, of course, far from ordinary times.

Olivia, or Liv as most knew her, conceived the idea of using the GoPro because it was tiny, like her. She thought of mounting it to a selfie-stick so the technician could cram the close-focusing camera into confined spaces and give us a remote view of what was going on inside the various subsystems.

Chris had conceived the idea of attaching a medium-intensity white LED as a source of illumination, and damn if the entire contraption didn't work quite well.

We didn't have time to waste three days going through procurement and purchase order processes, so it needed to be bought via brick-and-mortar retail. Because Washington State was a "Hot Spot," the locals found it impossible to find any electronics shop that was open, but they managed to contact the manager of a big-box store in Seattle who was willing to sell one over the phone. He drove it over to them personally, carrying a printed copy of my own business card along with the receipt to prove to any law enforcement officer that the parcel and its in-person delivery was, indeed, essential. The material required to add the light were ample at the site, and the technicians had no problems assembling the Frankenstein of a camera.

Chris, having seen enough to determine the issue didn't involve any electrical subsystems, remained alongside his wife to listen and observe. When Liv and I noted the heat-induced discoloration of a particular sapphire bushing assembly, we concluded it'd been fouled and needed replacement.

The discovery set the remote team on a two- or three-day adventure to tear down the turbine in order to replace the $30,000 bearing/bushing assembly. A six-pound package would be couriered by our corporate jet from the equipment company's warehouse in Bedford, Texas.

I know it seems like an awful lot of foofaraw over a simple bearing, but the factory was losing close to a million dollars per day in lost productivity. An $8,000 flight and a $500 camera enhanced with a handful of stuff the site scavenged from inventory were mere pennies in a pond.

We knew, as soon as the plane touched down, there'd be a half-dozen highly trained and well-equipped technicians waiting to replace the part and get the turbine and all the other systems back online, all while wearing annoying and cumbersome PPE.

Up until about two years earlier, Liv and I worked closely together. We had for more than ten years. She transferred out of my section to work with robotics in our assembly automation group. She's still one of my closest friends, and as was evidenced that night, her past experience proved invaluable every now and then.

Now, don't get the wrong idea. She's a great one, but she is just a friend. It almost became more than that, which would have been a devastating mistake had we let ourselves make it. Thankfully, we caught ourselves and didn't cross the line. It happened on a business trip to Phoenix, and my wedding band hasn't left my finger since I began wearing it again shortly after my return from there.

Liv and Chris Reading met at a local university's job fair at which our corporation regularly participated. They've been married about six months. Chris is as much a nerd as Liv and I. I knew him only in passing until Liv and he became an item.

Because of what happened between Liv and me in Arizona, though, it took some time for my wife to warm up to her. The fact that I was fully transparent about what occurred, though, ultimately allowed the couple to join our circle of friends.

It was nearly 8:00pm when the Seattle-based technician disconnected from the almost four-hour call. I continued to chat with Liv and Chris.

"How are you two fairing?" I asked.

"As good as can be expected," Liv summarily answered.

"Oh, come on. You can tell me," I challenged with a light chuckle. "You two are newlyweds, all locked away in your quiet, cozy house and all."

"Nuh-uh ," Chris grunted. "You've heard all those horror stories about people getting locked down on their honeymoons, or being forced to stay in their cramped little staterooms on cruise ships for damned-near a month when this all started back in February, right?"

"Of course."

"Check out the number of them that are trying to get divorces or even annulments. It's starting to feel like it here."

Liv was, of course, sitting right next to him at the desk in their study.

"Hey!" she barked before punching him in the shoulder. "I'm sitting right here!"

He laughed boisterously then gave Liv a gentle sideways hug and kissed her, restoring her smile.

"It's actually been fantastic," Liv said. "I mean, the annoyance and inconvenience is the same for almost everyone. But Chris and I—well, it's been really good for us."

I saw her elbow him playfully in his ribs, and he Oophed! comically.

"Since he was usually all over the place doing his own stuff at work, I hardly ever got to see him on campus. But now, here at home, I can watch him work, listen to his expertise, and, like today, we even can work together on certain things. It's really been enriching," she said while looking at her husband with her arm hooked under his.

I saw him smile warmly at her praise before he returned his attention to their screen.

"Yeah. What she said," he said with a grin.

They exhibited an awesome newlywed aura.

"That's great, you two. I'm glad y'all are making the best of it."

"How are you and yours?" Liv asked.

"We're doing well, but this whole thing hasn't been too good on my physique. I mean, look at me!"

I stood from the desk and stepped back a few paces which made the ten pounds I'd gained much more apparent than in my seated position. I pooched out my belly dramatically and jiggled it with my hands. I'd completed a bucket-list goal of running a marathon the month before the whole shelter-in-place call was made by the governor. I'd been in the best shape of my life, but it was quickly fading.

Liv laughed. "Well, from what they're saying on the news, you'll be able to get out there and get back in shape in another few weeks."

"Yeah, I'm not sure. It's hard enough to breathe when running long distances even without an N95 mask plastered to my face."

My wife stepped into the home office at that particular moment, quietly bringing me a plate of food with a mild scowl on her face.

"Are you still working?" she silently mouthed.

I shook my head in the negative.

Liv chuckled. "I see Sunny's reflection in the window behind you. She doesn't look happy."

I disconnected my headset and motioned for my wife to come to the other side of the desk. When she did, her expression brightened when she saw whose faces were on the screen. I adjusted the camera so it included her in the frame.

"Oh, hey! Are you two to blame for keeping Gary away from dinner?" she growled playfully.

"No . Blame it on a turbine pump in Seattle. We finished troubleshooting a malfunctioning compressor a few minutes ago," Liv offered, her voice then coming from the speakers connected to the dock.

"How are you two?" Sunny asked.

"We're hanging in there. I was just telling Gary we're sort of enjoying this, as crazy as that might sound," Liv answered.

Chris surreptitiously shook his head and mouthed, "No, no, no ."

Liv, seeing my wife laugh, looked over at her husband and smacked him which made him laugh again.

"That's good to hear, Liv. I'm anxious for this business to end. I miss talking to y'all face-to-face. As soon as this thing is over, we're all going out to a nice dinner."

"It's a deal," Liv said. "How are your kiddos?"

"School ended a couple of weeks ago, of course, but it was so anticlimactic for them because they've not been in their classrooms since February, you know?"

"Yeah, I can't imagine how weird it's been for them," Chris said. "I'm kind of curious about something if you don't mind me asking. What would it be like if your kids were younger? Like preschool or something?"

"Oh, jeez . I don't even want to think about it. They've been resilient. They're old enough that they can take care of themselves, and we allowed them to manage their schoolwork however they chose.

"Their teachers loaded them up with the week's plans and assignments each Monday, and they could manage their own time and priorities as long as they had everything turned in by noon the following Friday. Our only requirements of them were that they turned in their work on time and keep their grades in the A to B range. That sort of time management is a life skill they wouldn't experience in the ordinary school setting where everything is structured just so."

"So true," Chris said. "That'll even set your eldest up with such experience when she heads to college in a few years. Hell. Y'all know college professors don't nanny students like secondary school teachers do."

"Yeah. Good point," I said. "Hey. My dinner's getting cold, my kids are getting ahead of Sunny and me, and I don't like to lose."

"Are we still on for a game this weekend?" Liv asked.

"Count on it," my wife and I said in unison before I ended the conference.

I picked up the plate of food and brought it with me to the table where my daughters were already eating.

That evening, as they say, represented the "New Normal."

My work hours have become largely unscheduled. Instead of my typical 8:00am-ish to 6:00pm-ish schedule, I work whenever. Sometimes it's in the middle of the night helping folks overseas. Sometimes I don't work a day at all other than maybe one or two hours. I still average fifty or so hours per week, though.

I've lost track of which days are which. They all seem to blur together, you know? The only things which anchor the days are the all-hands Monday staff meetings, and our monthly game night with the Readings.

I sort of envy Chris and Liv a little. The ability to spend such time together as newlyweds seems an ideal relationship strengthener. I can see why some folks might be broken apart by it, but Liv and Chris are really good for each other.

Unlike those newlyweds, my wife and I have been married a little over twenty-six years.

She didn't return to the workforce after a trauma she experienced a few years before, and I certainly didn't want her to if she didn't feel ready. Our relationship was severely tested during that time, but we managed to move past it.

We're still financially stable, which is a status we know is becoming rarer in these times.

We do our best to support the community around us. Delivery drivers are given bigger tips. The restaurants which have promotions for free meals or reduced prices for first responders are our top choices when we do curbside pickups or deliveries.

Our neighbors, five houses to our south, are both registered nurses working five twelve-hour shifts per week at a hospital thirty miles away, and we have meals delivered to them several weekends a month.

My elderly and widowed nextdoor neighbor to the north is incredibly spry and also a gifted green thumb. Her lawn is gorgeous , and I've been mowing it for her because she hasn't left her house since the life of her husband of fifty years was taken due to the virus.

We don't feel guilty being stable, but we try to ensure that those who might struggle aren't left high and dry. It's as simple as that.

Our daughters, Amanda and Anna, have been very much the troopers through this whole social-distancing thing. I swear, though, they'd probably have come unglued a week or two into it if it weren't for the ability to FaceTime with their friends.

My family of four sat together for dinner and had a conversation. We'd decided a few days before that, hoping the "stay at home" order would be lifted within a few more months, we'd take a road trip to a cabin in the mountains. Our conversations for the intervening days would be talking about what we'd do and what we'd need to bring. It gave the girls hope for something fun outside, back in the world, even though we'd still be "socially distanced."

It wasn't more than an hour or two after dinner that everyone headed to their rooms and into bed.

Sunny was asleep within fifteen minutes, but I stayed awake for another few hours, reading, because my circadian rhythm was still completely off kilter for reasons I'll explain shortly.

Chris and Olivia are a little less than a decade younger than us. Chris is Liv's third husband and Liv is Chris's second wife. Neither had children from their previous marriages.

Sunny and I have been married to each other almost half our lives and have lived in the same house for almost as long. Though we came perilously close to divorce three years ago, we worked through it.

To say these days are routine would be putting it mildly. To say they're stagnant would be stretching the truth because they aren't.

Even though we can't go out "in public," my wife and I challenge each other with weekly date nights. Given the events which transpired several years ago, we're determined to keep our marriage tight, intimate, and fulfilling.

One evening, our daughters got involved. They dressed in nice finery and played the roles of waitresses and hostesses, as well as cooks, as they served us macaroni and cheese with sliced frankfurters mixed in. Yeah, we even stretched the law a little when we allowed them to pour us glasses of wine to go with the meals they'd prepared.

Their jobs completed, they made themselves scarce in Anna's room where we allowed them to watch movies past their normal screen-time limits. It was an evening we all enjoyed, especially as it ended with my wife and I partaking in tender and comforting intimacy in the solitude of our own bedroom behind its locked door.

A month before, we'd finished dinner as a family. Sunny and I cleaned up the kitchen while the girls completed their chores. When all was completed, I showered, shaved, and dressed for the day.

No, that's not a typo.

That night was yet another consisting of conference calls with many of my counterparts in Asia and Europe. I'd adjusted my body's clock to work from 9:00pm to 6:00am for that stretch. I would go to bed at 6:30am or so and sleep until just after 1:00 or 2:00pm local time.

Though it was difficult, my family adapted to my odd schedule, but it was particularly stressful for me. Not the work, so much, but adapting to a graveyard shift was well-beyond my recent experience. Other than international trips earlier in my career, I hadn't needed to rotate my clock in quite a while.

As I dressed for work, my wife dressed for bed.

"Oh, I keep forgetting to ask you. Do you have any idea what happened to that little whiteboard we used to have on the side of the fridge?"

"I think it's in the closet in the office. Why?"

"Part of Mandy's final in math needs her to draw some graphs while Zooming with her teacher. She wanted to use it because she lost the stylus which came with her tablet, and she has a hard time drawing precise things with her fingers."

I went to the office and found it tucked in next to the wall behind the closet door. I brought it and a few dry erase markers to Sunny. She kissed me before she climbed into bed with the TV's remote.

"Good night, babe," I said. I turned off the overhead lights and closed the bedroom door as I departed.

Once in the home office, I set up all my files and presentations then logged in via VPN to begin my day.

It was about two hours later when I saw Sunny approaching the office carrying the whiteboard and a can of soda.

From the doorway, Sunny held up the board. On it was written only two words: Take it .

A few smiley faces accompanied the words.

I shrugged my confusion and ignorance with my brows furrowed.

She sat the board in a chair and walked toward the desk. I noticed she was checking how the webcam was placed, maybe to ensure she wasn't casting visible shadows in its field of view.