The End

Chapter 17: Again and Again

There was a place that Ellen had consistently visited, even on the days they fought, during the months they didn't speak, the years they didn't see each other. She consumed and enchanted him in this this place. It was a dwelling in his mind. He hoped to get lost every night. Between sleep and awake, she was always his. They had always been together.

The sky seemed to audibly twinkle and the waves crashed against the shore with a vibration that Patrick felt to his bones. He could smell the fresh air as it seeped into his skin. Refreshing a soul that had been dry for half a decade.

He kissed her soft lips and her aroma tingled in his veins. Her eyes a light in the darkness as he pulled away. "You were like coming up for fresh air. It was like I was drowning and you saved me." The words left his lips with a familiar passion.

"You can't use that line on me," Ellen challenged him.

"Sure, I can," Patrick disagreed playfully, "It was made for you."

"It was made for Meredith," Ellen smiled.

Patrick suddenly felt the need to clear his throat. He coughed, the scratch growing bigger and more painful as the seconds passed. Clutching his neck, he coughed.

"Patrick," she spoke softly. "Are you okay?" her voice grew distant and louder all at the same time.

"Patrick," Jillian woke him with a shake of his shoulder, "Are you okay?"

Disoriented, but with it enough to know that it was Jillian now saying his name. He sat slowly, "Yeah," his word caught in his throat. He cleared his throat again.

"You were coughing in your sleep," Jill sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm fine," his voice still gravely as he lied.

With a single cough, what the world had been fighting became real. A harsh reality smacked him in the face. He wasn't untouchable. This pandemic was far from over. All at once, he remembered, he kissed her. His body suddenly filled with fear, and then guilt. He'd compromised everyone he loved most in the world.

The threat of COVID was strange feeling. There was a sense of shame that came with it. Exposure, contact tracing and quarantining. His heart felt heavy. He sniffed in a little congestion. "Are you feeling all right?" Jillian asked though she could tell the answer.

"It feels like I might be getting a cold," Patrick sighed heavily. Nothing was the same, a cold wasn't simple anymore. He ran his hands through his hair.

The room was uncomfortably silent. They were ignoring several elephants. But one in particular trumpeted loudly between them. He could feel Jillian's eyes on him. Finally, she broke the silence, "Do you think you should test?" It was the first time their family had to face the possibility of getting sick.

There was a devastating irony about the timing of this. As if the universe was saying not so fast. The consequences for his actions were staring him in the face and it wasn't looking good. "Maybe to be safe," Patrick said reassuringly though he didn't feel assured, "I'll stay in here until the results come back."

"Ok," she nodded, "I'm sure it's nothing." Jillian stood in the doorway of her master bedroom, "I'll bring some tea back," she turned a way and then back to him, "hey... you should probably mention it to Ellen."

Her words were painfully thoughtful. He wasn't sure if she was completely naive or if she could read him like a book. Either way, it left a sour feeling in his stomach.

"Yeah," he nodded, "you're right."

It was a phone call he dreaded making. He hated the idea of not seeing her today, of disappointing her. But even more so than that he hated being the one to scare her. To make her worry about her family, about her children. The sour feeling blossomed into guilt, fear and exposure. He felt as if the world knew something he didn't. He should have been smarter, more careful.