Chapter 3

One year later. . .

Walking around with the phone on her shoulder, Babs chewed her lip as she pulled a copy of a news magazine with a picture of a giant aircraft carrier with the number seventy-eight on the side next to a floating white platform with a flame. The entire magazine was about the new Reagan Carrier Memorial and the five thousand sailors lost.

"I think the risk of real war is very low, I mean, the U.N. controls North Korea now and it isn't like they could bomb Baltimore or even Alaska. They don't even have enough fuel oil to heat their homes, let alone launch a missile and the Navy is standing by in case they try anything else," Babs answered her therapist's question.

"I am glad you feel that way so many of my other patients are terrified of nuclear war... Now, let's talk about the latest shutdown. We are at level three. How do you feel about the information the public is getting after it was revealed the vaccine is only ten or twenty percent effective?" Dr. Merced asked as she put the magazine in a paper bag and then books in other bags.

The resurgence of Pandemic Four's viral respiratory failure syndrome, which was an adult version of the pediatric R.S.V., along with some new pneumonia infection caused Babette to start having anxiety attacks. All she could think about was how her father died alone in his home because the ambulance took three hours to respond to his health alert emergency call.

"I just. I'm angry... I don't watch the news about it, because then I panic when I think about anyone touching the books. What if I can't get them sterilized properly? What if the 'whatever' disease can't be removed from the paper like smallpox or scarlet fever?"

"But is this about the books or your father's death? How are you processing that grief?"

Babs sighed as she admitted to her therapist. "My father was very elderly and after decades of smoking a pipe, he was in the highest risk group for VRFS. I understand why he died."

"You say that so calmly but has your heart and mind really accepted his death and that you are alone in the world." Dr. Merced prodded her carefully. Mattilda Pratt insisted that all employees have mental health support due to the stress of lockdown beginning again when the vaccinations were proven to be only ten percent effective.

"I am not really alone. I have my friends and coworkers. I still have my mother's family in California," Babs repeated what she said last time.

"Family that you aren't on speaking terms with... And you have admitted that your coworkers aren't really your friends. They have had several get-togethers without inviting you... Have you and Bill had another date?"

"We can't go out again. The shutdown..." Babs made the excuse to avoid restaurants, but it rang untrue even to her ears.

The one date she had with the grocery order manager ended with her in the emergency room and being diagnosed with another food allergy. There was a new, organic food preservative called Pharaoh's Yeast Extract that was supposed to extend the shelf life of food indefinitely but for people with yeast allergies, it was deadly. Babs had always been mildly allergic to yeast used to make bread and pastries, yogurts and cheese, and some processed meats and broths, but this new preservative seemed to be in everything from dried spices to pasta noodles and in all processed or canned foods. Because it was considered organic, many of the foods on her safe list were now toxic to her and she had to carry an Epi-pen whenever she left home. It was even being used as a soak for fresh fruits and vegetables by the mass market groceries. The only thing that saved her from starving was that it made frozen foods spoil faster once they were thawed and that there were a dozen countries that didn't permit the use of Pharaoh's Yeast for religious or cultural reasons.

"There are other ways to have a date than going to a restaurant. You are an excellent cook, why not take him dinner at work? Or go to the park for a picnic? The weather is still very nice and since you work in the same zone, you should be able to spend some time together." Dr. Merced sounded very concerned as she listened to him helplessly. Finally, he asked, "Are your medications helping, Babette?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you are doing your daily affirmations and avoiding the news?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good... I would like you to try to socialize more even if it is through the internet. Ten minutes a stop with your elderly library patrons is nice of you but it isn't a social life like someone your age normally has. Take Bill on a picnic lunch. Bake him cookies. Just be certain he understands that you do not hold him responsible for your allergy attack and tell him what you told me about your interest in possibly pursuing your friendship to the next level."

"Yes, Dr. Merced," Babette answered like a scolded child. "I do call and read to him. He is dyslexic like my dad. He didn't realize he could order audiobooks for free through the library."

"That's good, but I want you to try for an in-person date... I will call you in two weeks. Are Thursdays at the same time still good?"

"Yes, sir."

"Feel free to call me before then if you need me. Goodbye."

After she hung up, Babs sighed. Shaking her head, he didn't understand that she didn't need to have a social life or be the center of attention like the rest of her generation. She didn't even belong to any of those social media apps. That was why she liked Bill; he didn't belong to them either. Real phone calls and old-fashioned cards, that was how they connected. He had been so surprised and touched by her handwritten thank you note. Talking on the phone on the evenings she wasn't at the pharmacy working, was the only socializing she did besides Sunday tea with Mrs. Pratt.

A tap on the window made her turn. The new bank style teller drawer and speaker let her talk to patrons without letting them inside.

"Hello, Mr. Smith. I have your book and magazine order ready," Babs said as she gave him her best smile. "And I included something new. A book on micro-wind turbines just translated from Danish. It has a lot of engineering diagrams and schematics I thought you might enjoy."

The lines around his eyes, above his mask crinkled as he nodded. "You always find me the best books, Dr. Bland, thank you."

She placed the bag in the drawer and slid it out as she leaned forward, faux-whispering, "I got two copies, I hope you can explain it all to me when you finish reading it."

"I would like..." He coughed into his mask then thumped his chest. "I can't wait to get over the after-effects of this virus. See you next week."

"Feel better." She waved, "See you next week."

As he walked away, tears leaked from her eyes. Mr. Smith had survived and recovered from VRFS. Her father had not been so lucky. She missed him so much it hurt like a punch in the chest. She tried not to sob aloud in the empty library as she took Mr. Smith's returned books to be sanitized. The bell by the window chimed and she wiped her face quickly before going back to the window and giving the next patron a perfect smile.

"Welcome to Enoch Pratt Free Public Library, what would you like to read today?"

^..^

Friday morning...

Driving to the grocery market in the library's electric car felt like she was taking advantage, but rain from a dying hurricane was trying to drown Baltimore. Babs also wanted the cookies she made for Bill to stay warm. They were moving slowly into dating, and it felt wonderful. She had never really dated anyone. He was hopeful that there would be a lifting of restrictions soon with the new vaccine due in the fall. Both wore their masks and gloves as he loaded her car and accepted the Tupperware container of cookies.

"I called the Asian Market and Mr. Tran said they had noodles without that yeast stuff."

"Bill, it wasn't your fault. I didn't know either, and I was having a really nice evening until I almost died," she teased, and he laughed.

"It was. That's it... Thank you for the audiobook recommendations," Bill said as his eyes crinkled with smile lines above his mask. "I never thought I would use a library after I graduated from high school because I don't read books."

"I'm glad you like them. Audiobooks do count as reading books, it is just someone else reading them to you," she reminded him.

"I like it when you read to me over the phone." His voice grinned at her.

"I like it too... and thanks for finding noodles I can eat. I'll stop at the Asian Market on the way back." She started to say more but two cars were waiting and one honked, so she said, "Chapter eleven tonight?"

"Don't you have to work at the pharmacy?" Bill asked.

"They are no longer open overnight so I will be home until the restrictions lift again," Babs shrugged, glancing over as the car honked a second time. The man inside was coughing violently.

"I'll call you tonight." He nodded then hurried to get the grumpy man's order.

A few blocks away, she parked in front of the Asian Market. Going inside, she waved at Mrs. Tran behind the plexiglass screen. "How are you today?"

"I am well. And you?" Mrs. Tran asked as she went into the back and came out with three bags for Babs instead of her usual one. "Bill called from Lerling's and said they no longer carry the ramen you can eat. I do not know what is wrong with these food producers! There is no yeast in Ramen noodles or Soba Noodles. They crazy! Pharaoh's yeast makes the noodles taste bad. Who wants to eat old noodles? Nobody. Fresh is best." As the elderly lady ranted in her this Filipino accent and rang out Babs' purchase, Babs was glad she couldn't see the smile behind her mask as she tapped her credit card before she accepted the bags.

"Thanks again for ordering extra noodles for me. See you next week." Babs expressed her gratitude then rushed out to her car through the rain.

She drove back to the library and parked under the overhang out of the deluge. Carrying her groceries inside, she put them away, looking at the labels carefully to make certain her new allergy hadn't gotten home with her. She changed the list of safe foods in her notebook and on her phone. Grumbling under her breath, she went upstairs and got a few books on making noodles. She was grateful they hadn't started putting Pharaoh's yeast in the different kinds of flour yet. With no pickups or deliveries, she had the weekend to herself to learn to make her own ramen and soba noodles. Other than calling Bill and reading a few chapters of a book aloud to him, she saw no one and spoke to no one until Monday afternoon since Mrs. Platt cancelled their usual Sunday Brunch and Tea.

^..^

The next two weeks passed the same as the previous two. The only change was the steady decrease in the number of patrons picking up books and the number of deliveries. After making her few deliveries and pickups, Babs walked through the library checking the doors or sweeping or dusting. Without watching the news, she took her once a week morning walk to the George Peabody library. She was sad to find it closed indefinitely. Washington Monument Park was empty and so was Preston Gardens Park. There was no traffic on the Jones Falls Expressway. As she walked back to the Enoch Platt Library, she thought about how Bill missed several of her recent calls. She worried that he was overworking himself since he told her he was the only one left pulling and loading out orders. She called his personal number instead of the store.

"Hello, hon." It sounded like he muted the phone and she guessed he was busy.

"Hey, I was going to bring you lunch," Babs answered.

His voice was gruff as he cleared his throat, "That would be great..." His phone was silent for almost a minute before he said, "I'm starving. See you soon." He hung up before she could respond. Shaking her head, she thought about last week and sighed, thinking the store better be paying him overtime.

She made him a large bowl of his favorite hot and sour soup with a side of fried noodles, and pot stickers. The recipes she learned from her aunt's best friend growing up in California were his favorite. Packing them in containers, she then went to get her grocery order. The store was depressingly dark in the front as she pulled to the pick-up area. She dialed the number and got out, waiting anxiously. Bill came out and held his hand out to her when she started to approach.

"Don't. I think I might have caught whatever is going around."

Pandemic five seemed to be as contagious as the first pandemic had been, but that was a corona virus and this one seemed to be an unidentified fungal-bacterial chimeric infection.

Babs looked at him in fear as he pulled the wagon to the back of her car. He sprayed it with disinfectant then stepped back. Babs kept the car between them, leaving his meal and pastries on the hood. "I made you your favorite soup, pot stickers, and fried noodles. There's also some sesame-candied ginger cookies that Mrs. Tran gave me the recipe for."

"Thank you, hon." He said then he coughed wetly into his mask with his hand over it. "This will get me on my feet."

She quickly put the groceries in, looking surprised at the number of bags. "Why are there so many?"

"I pulled two weeks for you... And do you mind delivering Mrs. Platt's and Mrs. Thorpe's again?"

"No problem. You just sit down and eat, I'll get them." She followed him inside but kept her distance. Her fear warred with her need to take care of him.

As he sat at the desk coughing and sipping the soup, she put Mrs. Platt's in her little coupe. "Bill? I'll have to come back for Mrs. Thorpe's and her cat supplies."

"I'm sorry to ask, I know you're allergic."

"It's okay. I have to take her a dozen books anyway... Then I'll come back and take you to the hospital. You need to see a doctor," she insisted worriedly as he blew dark mucus from his nose.

"There aren't any more doctors," Bill muttered.

"Please, Bill. You're sick. You need someone to take care of you," Babs begged.

He looked at her, then glanced at a blue card on the desk, before turning to face her. "I love you. I just wanted to tell you I wish I had been able to take you out on proper dates and introduce you to my family."

"Oh Bill..." Babs' words caught in her throat. She stepped forward but he held up his hand as he started coughing violently. She bit her lip then straightened her spine. "Don't do anything more. I'll be back for Mrs. Thorpe's groceries and stuff, then I am taking you to the hospital... Don't argue with me!" She glared at him as he started to protest. "I love you too. Eat your soup and noodles. I'll be back as quick as I can." Thoughts of her father's death alone clawed at her. "If you start to feel worse before I get back, call an ambulance and call me from the hospital. We'll get through this." She almost sobbed as she rushed out. Speeding back to the library, she stopped at Mrs. Pratt's stoop.

She knocked then unlocked the door and put the groceries and book delivery inside.

"Babette, oh thank you... What's wrong?" Mattilda asked but she kept her distance.

"Do you have any sanitizer to spray these with? Bill's sick." Babette kept her mask up and gloves on. "I have to get back to take him to the hospital after I make his deliveries."

"Of course, sweetheart. I'll spray them before I put them away. Go and be careful."

"Call me if you need anything," Babs responded as she closed the door and then the security door. She rushed to the library ignoring a homeless man wandering nearby. Throwing her groceries on her table she sprayed the bags and their contents before rushing back out. Only pausing to grab Mrs. Thorpe's books, she hurried back to the marketplace and Lerling's Grocery Basket.

Going in the rear door, she called out, "Bill? Bill, I'm back." The store was eerily quiet.