A Series of ‘Coronic’ Events Episode: 2
Incubation
I had put it there.
Appa’s frown between his eyes disappeared. “So?”
I blinked twice. “So? That Aunty was the one who gave me that envelope. She’s the one who tested positive right?”
Appa shook his head. “No, no. She’s not the Panchayat member I was talking about.”
“What?” My voice was unbelievably calm.
“Yeah. This one is someone else.” Appa said dismissively.
“But she must’ve given it to this lady and she’d given it to me na!” I wondered out loud.
“The local health official had called me yesterday and had described everything,” he said affirmatively. “The one who tests positive is the primary case. Everyone who comes into direct contact – as in within less than 6 feet distance or remained in close proximity for more than 10minutes to her becomes secondary.” He pointed a pen at me. “So YOU become tertiary, while I am mostly a secondary case.”
Oh. I didn’t know how to respond to the lengthy truth Appa had just told me.
“Do you have to get tested?” I asked.
“Yes, in five days.” Nodding, I got up from the bed and walked two steps towards his desk.
“Stop,” Appa’s voice was firm. Slowly, it dawned on me. The fact that he was still a possible active secondary case, meant that he’d have to isolate within our home till his tests come back negative.
“Okay;” I put my hands up and backed out from the room – but not before giving him a thumbs-up. “You’ll be fine Pa!”
He smiled and patted the left side of his chest.
The next few incubation days passed slowly. The house felt like a music album on pause. Appa had to be given a separate cup, plate, spoons, towels, bed sheets and pillows.
For me, the habits of being a-daddy’s-girl had to be unlearned and relearned – for your safety – as Appa would say every time I came close to giving him a punch or a hug or a poke.
Our family prayer sessions were still half-an-hour but the number of calls on our telephone decreased from ten to two or three. Except my grandparents and uncles, it seemed like no-one was interested anymore in what became of the Johnson’s family. The family friends who were so passionate about getting me hitched were actually ghosting. To be honest, I wouldn’t want to change this after COVID-19 passed.
The newspaper guy threw our copies over the fence instead of our doorstep. The milkman asked Amma to keep the milk bottle outside overnight before he came with the next day’s quota and the local butcher offered us home-delivery only with online payment. I guess the beef that week did taste better than usual.
It was another Sunday. My brother and I were in the kitchen trying to figure out who had the better playlist to help with the chores when Appa’s phone rang in his room.
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