Petrichor

'Love in times of Corona'

I checked my phone for the fourth time. The screen flashed 11:32, without the texts I had expected. I looked around impatiently. Flocks of people were hustling around me, moving past each other without a second glance. The sun glared down upon the street, making my shirt stick to my back. I leaned back against the wall and sighed. The mask wasn't helping with the heat either – I was having trouble breathing, but I was in no way going to remove it.

I looked at the subway gate, packed with people, even though everyone seemed to be moving. All the waiting chairs were occupied, so I decided to just stay put. The golden rays felt almost foreign on my skin – it had been so long since I had felt the outside. The sky was a dazzling blue, without a trace of any cloud. Somehow everything looked greener – the footpaths had more trees growing around, there were vines crawling up against almost every wall I could see. Maybe the air felt great to breathe in too – but I wouldn't know. Nobody would – grey and white masks covered all the faces. I could only feel my sweat-tinged breath every time I inhaled behind the thick mask.

I felt a bead of sweat travel down my temple, as I placed my phone against my ear. I knew he wasn't going to pick up, but I didn't really know what else to do. I was standing there for almost half an hour, in the heat; however, surprisingly enough, I didn't feel an ounce of anger. I had taken the wait in the heat in front of the metro station every time we met for granted. After five months of staying indoors, I could've waited a thousand hours in the sun for him.

The dial tone cut to the woman's voice who announced the number was not answering. I sighed and put my phone away. I could feel the sweat trickling down my back, my neck, my thighs and my ears were burning. He was probably on his way, and couldn't hear his phone. Did he still have that blaring Coldplay song as his ringtone? Or was it just a rock BGM? How long had it exactly been since we last met?

I blinked repeatedly to keep the water out of my eyes. I knew it was just sweat, but I couldn't help but feel the need to shout incoherently and bawl my eyes out. Liquid anxiety was flowing through my veins, making me jumpy at the littlest of things. I could feel everything around me – the woman laughing loudly with her friend a few feet away from me, a dog barking nearby, an angry driver honking incessantly at a pedestrian who wouldn't move, even the bird sitting on a tree just above my head chirping shrilly. My peripheral vision was almost neon yellow, it was so bright. My ears rang dully as it tried to get accustomed to the foreign noises it had been deaf to for so long. I tried fidgeting with my phone to calm my nerves, but it didn't help. I imagined lying in bed and sleeping at this hour, like I had done for the past five months, instead of standing in the sun.

It had felt like eons; eons and eons of impatient waiting as we assured each other that we would meet soon. Going to sleep at night feeling hopeful, after promising to hug as soon as we could, then waking up to news of lock-down extensions. Checking websites for confirmed cases frequently, convincing each other that the world wasn't going to end and that we would meet eventually. It was suffocating – only having a five point six inched screen serving as a means of communication. I learnt to lie blatantly, and so did he, as we promised each other night after night that we will make it through, that this too shall pass.

I put a cigarette butt between my lips, and lighted the end. I took a long drag, and felt myself smile. An insignificant memory crept up in my mind – his look of disapproval whenever he saw me smoking. I didn't think I would be able to make it without a smoke every day, but I did. The isolation tested my limits, and I wasn't even sure what I was capable of at that point.

I was contemplating another phone call, and as soon as I tapped on the 'call' button, I felt his arms snaking around me. I was too shocked to swat his sticky arms away, as I turned around. He stood there, beaming and sweating like a pig.

"And I thought you wouldn't be late for once," I tried to feign annoyance. This time, I wasn't quite sure if it was sweat pooling in my eyes.

"Come here," he said, and extended his arms. I went up and wrapped myself around him, not caring about the sweat-soaked shirt. I buried my face in his shoulder and let it go. I felt months of exhaustion and frustration leaving me, as I cried and cried, and he patted my head. I had waited for this, for him, for so long, it almost felt unreal. I was so glad to feel that familiar smell of men's deodorant mixed with sweat – I was half afraid I would find it foreign as well.

I pulled back after some time, and noticed a few people staring at us, but that was the least of my concerns. I took him in – he looked the same, I didn't know why I thought he would change drastically in just five months. His eyes were rimmed red behind those huge glasses, but of course I couldn't see if he still had that beard under his mask.

"Hey, I'm here," he laughed. "We are here."

"Yes!" I squeaked. I wanted to scream, but I had already made a big enough scene.

I put my fingers through his, and felt his coarse skin against mine. His iron tight grip made me feel safe; despite everything, we had made it through. Against all the odds, we were still here, in each others' arms, smiling through tears. I wanted nothing more to freeze this moment, cherish it a bit longer. His eyes crinkled as he smiled at me, and I could feel the burst of euphoria and the tranquility at the same time.

We lost a lot, but the ones which stayed, hold a different place altogether. After all, it's not every day me make it through a pandemic and hug your beloved. 

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Hoping for something like this pretty soon. Till then, stay indoors, stay safe. 

~R