Love in the Time of the Pandemic: A LitArtHub Flash Fiction Collection

Sunshine by Paola Cabaluna

I read the notes meant for her as I watched her sleep. There was never a day her family and friends have missed showing their undying love and encouragement for her, and so did I. I gently stroked her long and beautiful hair. That's the most I could touch her without ever harming the both of us.

Slowly her eyes opened. They twinkled with joy that she had again witnessed another day to embrace the hope of life. Yet they were brimming with unshed tears, of sadness that she had to endure again the pain of living in isolation, of seeing only me every day in this tightly closed, white room.

"Good morning." Her chest heaved high and low as she took a deep breath, afterwards shutting her eyes firmly. When she opened her eyes, they seemed to wander around the room until they settled on me, near the window. Her lips called me underneath the mouthpiece.

"Nurse Niko."

I pointed to the tray sitting at the table. "Time for breakfast."

She stretched a shaking arm at me, and I exactly know what to do. I grabbed her arm as she lifted herself up to sit on the bed. She pulled her mouthpiece down and put the medicine tablets in her mouth. The mornings became a routine since her confinement with coronavirus.

She stretched out her other arm with a forced smile. My eyes lingered on her tired yet beautiful face. I flashed a gentle smile behind my layers of mask and face shield, hoping she could see through them. With steady hands, I traced the old wound from the previous one with the syringe's needle as I drew blood from her arm. I read the statistics and jotted down the progress in her profile.

"Thanks," she murmured as she read all the recent notes, careful not to touch them.

I took out my pen again with a sigh, ready for the special service I give her.

"Tell me what you want to tell them, Jenny. I'll make sure they get across."

As quick as the unexpected rain, her tears fell. "Will you?"

Oh, if she only knew. I will do anything so she won't feel sad and I will fill all the empty spaces inside her heart for her not to feel alone.

"Please tell them I always read their letters, and that I am sorry I couldn't write one back. Tell them I miss them, and it won't be long before I come home. Please tell them."

I wrote them all, not missing a word, as I felt my shoulders shaking. I put the note in the pocket of my protective gear and left her room to attend to the needs of other patients suffering the same situation as her in this pandemic. I realized I have never hated quick visits until now. I want to extend these private moments with her. I didn't know whether I was selfish or selfless.

The next day, I surprised her.

"I'll comb your hair." I showed the brush I was hiding in my PPE. A beautiful and brave woman like her deserved a queenly treatment.

She averted her eyes, and her face reddened. I snickered and stood behind her as she sat in the chair.

"Aren't you afraid? You might get infected."

I shrugged. "I am not touching you directly."

She nodded in understanding. She pointed to the brush I was holding and then to the trash bin.

"Throw it away afterwards."

More than anyone, it is I who was in pain when she treats herself like a virus. She crushed my efforts of pulling her back from the uncertainty of living whenever she spoke of yielding to the evil that has stripped away our freedom of action.

It was the same freedom that allowed us to sense the tenderness of love – a love that can be found in another person.

"Do you do this, too, with other patients?" She pointed at her hair through the mirror.