Life in the Times of Coronavirus: Lockdown Day 4

It’s hard to strike a balance between feeling anxious (should we ration more? what if we lose our jobs? what if one, or both of us gets sick?) and wanting to stay positive (things will work out and you won’t lose your jobs; don’t worry, they’ll restock the grocery shelves; you and your loved ones will stay healthy). I cope how I can: working to keep my mind off of my worries; reading books that give me perspective (the Defoe book I mentioned last time, as well as a collection of stories by Lucia Berlin) and help me change the subject; and I find the time to videochat with friends in the U.S. and here in Europe.

Meanwhile, the bad news seems to be hitting closer to home. Just today we found out that our town’s mayor, Carlos Cordón, tested positive for COVID-19. He’s self-quarantined and feeling much better, but most likely infected dozens of people without knowing it. Today, against the background of more than 24,000 people being laid off in Catalonia, was the first time that my husband and I had to begin to contemplate the very real possibility that he’d lose his job. He’s not comfortable having to leave the house with the infection rate growing by the day, and I can’t blame him. We’re trying to see if his boss will let him work remotely. Meanwhile, I’m a freelance translator and linguist, so there’s also the chance that the well of potential clients may start drying up. So I’m cutting back on expenses and making a plan just in case things get hard for us financially speaking. (Thankfully, the Spanish government has implemented a series of economic measures, including suspending mortgage payments and forbidding utilities from being cut off, to help workers and vulnerable families stay afloat financially, so we should be okay.) As of today, Spain has nearly 12,000 confirmed cases, nearly 2,000 of which are in Catalonia. And, tragically, one of them was a 21-year-old soccer coach.

All this is enough to make anyone feel stressed, anxious, afraid given all the uncertainty we’re facing. Last night I was having a bit of an anxiety attack given our current circumstances. You know when everything feels dark and murky and scary? When no matter what anyone says or does you still see the ugly side of things and imagine the worst possible case scenario? Last night, I was stressing about our supplies. The government said it would “guarantee” that supermarket shelves, gas stations, pharmacies, etc. would be fully stocked. But what if it fails and we’re left to fend for ourselves? There’s also the constant (and persistent) worry that I harbor for my friends and family back home. My mom works at a major retailer and my dad is a bus driver – both are jobs that bring you into close proximity with people. I’m glad that they’re taking precautions (gloves, frequent handwashing, etc.) but it’s hard not to worry being half a world away. I spoke to a couple of my very best friends here over the phone and then spoke to my mother and shared my concerns. I felt better afterward, though I’m still (of course) very much thinking about my family’s health.

Today, though, I decided to venture out. (Don’t worry, I don’t mean going for a stroll with the Pale Rider galloping about. I’m 100% committed to staying indoors and sheltering in place.) Last Friday when I went to get our supplies, I left a “non-urgent” bag with Kleenex, dish soap, plastic wrap, canned goods, etc. in the trunk. I’d been putting off going down to the garage given the intense lockdown and not wanting to suit up to go outside, but today I decided to go to get a sense of how things in our town. I suited up and decided to take the trash down too. You know, just another day.

I ain’t taking no chances.

I locked the door behind me and started walking down the stairs. It was a weird sensation: I hadn’t stepped outside or even really moved around a lot since all this went down. As I headed down, I ran across a neighbor who was coming up the stairs. We stopped at the landing, both in face masks and gloves, and I pressed myself against the wall, trash bags held aloft, to let her pass and still maintain the six-foot security distance. We both laughed out loud, said something to the effect of “isn’t this crazy?” and she continued walking up the stairs. She was the first person other than my husband that I’d spoken to in four days, I realized.

It was windy and drizzly and cold outside. I wish I could write a cliché passage and say how I stepped outside and the world felt new again, but that wasn’t really the case. Things were pretty much as I’d last seen them on Friday: unremarkable and pretty much normal, except for everything being closed of course.

There was no one on the street. Not a soul. A cop car rolled by, slowed down, and then continued. It stopped again at the corner and for a moment I thought I was going to be questioned about where I was going. Instead, it turned the corner. Guess I looked like I had a reason to be out on the street.

I walked to the trash bins which are perhaps 50 yards from my front door and stood at the nearly-full bins for a moment. Most days I’d simply grab the handle, hoist up the heavy bin cover, and chuck my trash in. Now, though, I had to strategize: everyone in the neighborhood has surely touched this at some time or another, and I sure as hell didn’t wanna touch it myself, even with gloves. Finally, though, I succumbed and held up the bin cover using the tips of my thumb and index finger and threw my trash in. The whiff of rotting garbage, something like the scent of overripe bananas and cat litter, wafted up to me.

I made my way to the garage. I passed by a lot of closed businesses: a café that I can see from my window, mobile phone store, fruit stand (closed for “vacation” for a month), furniture store, hardware shop. A laundromat was open (essential service according to the government) as was the grocery store and local market. I stood outside and poked my head in and felt a wave of relief wash over me: the shelves were being restocked, there was still meat in the freezer, and I could smell fresh loaves of bread baking somewhere deeper inside the store. I walked by the pharmacy and saw just two elderly patients waiting for their prescriptions. Both ladies wore blue surgical masks and purple gloves and stood silently, watching me go by. One woman waved and I waved back, and I spontaneously cried out ¡Cuídese! “Take good care.” I’ve never met this woman in my life, but in times like these, we can all use a bit of community in these uncertain times. And a smile, even from a perfect stranger, was enough to brighten my day amid so much bad news. (We’ve just heard that this year’s Sant Jordi celebrations, which is normally held on April 23 when all of Catalonia is bedecked with books and roses, would be postponed to the summer.)

I grabbed the bag out of my car and headed back to my flat. I briskly walked back up to the stairs, carefully opened the door and after taking off my gloves and washing my hands thoroughly, I went out onto the balcony again. I’d been gone for 20 minutes. I stared out at the street, watching for the lady who had smiled at me, but saw only the wind moving through the leaves, and the rain evaporating on the empty asphalt.