Several weeks pass, and their arrangement is basically formalized. Each Wednesday afternoon Jeff and Annie switch apartments, and return home to a place that feels a little bit haunted, and a little bit special. Each has to admit (not to each other – they send few, mainly practical texts) that their quality of life has improved. True, Jeff avoids looking directly at his bathtub. But his muscle tone is much better. Annie is feeling more motivated – it's nice to have something on her to-do list, and when you add compare magazines, buy magazines, read magazines, and recycle magazines, she can fill a whole calendar square. She's even using the bike again, and she's certain it has nothing to do with misplaced energy.
They're both home each Wednesday in time for the weekly Zoom. They don't discuss the arrangement with the study group, because why would they?
It seems like it will go indefinitely. Until one Wednesday, Annie is running late. She packs her bath bag in a hurry and opens the door to find – live – in person – Jeff. He's holding the spare key, about to open the door. There's a stunned silence and they both rush to loop their masks over their faces.
"I'm late," Annie blurts.
"I'm early," Jeff apologizes.
Then Annie lunges forward and hugs Jeff, hard. She's saying something into his chest, muffled, which he eventually makes out as "…Seven…Eight…Nine…" At "Ten", she lets him go and steps back, wiping her eyes. "There. Less than ten seconds contact." She looks up at him, mortified. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Jeff says. It's better than okay. He hasn't touched another person in literally weeks. Some kind of chemical spike almost overwhelms him, but Annie is scooting past him, carefully not touching him again, and waving over her shoulder.
"Have a good workout," she calls.
Jeff cocks a hand at her and walks into her apartment, closing the door. The room smells like her more than ever, or maybe it's his shirt.
Annie waits outside the elevator, holding her bath bag hard in both hands to keep them from trembling.
Two days later, Jeff gets a text from Annie.
Can you log on early?
Annie is hosting the weekly Zoom call. Jeff enters the chat a few minutes early and trepidatiously says "Hey."
"Heeey." Annie looks embarrassed. "Um…do you ever use the elevator when you're in my apartment?"
It's not what Jeff expected, but he's not sure if that's good. "Yeah, why?"
"I was just grabbing my takeout in the lobby and my neighbor was there. He got off the elevator and he wasn't wearing a mask."
"Is that all?"
"Um, he was wearing a MAGA hat." Annie paused. "And coughing."
Jeff stares at her. "I'll schedule a COVID test right now."
Wednesday again, and both their tests have come back negative. Jeff is relieved – hugely, disproportionately relieved – not just because he's not sick, but because it means their arrangement can continue. He's not so sure about the word 'arrangement' anymore, by the way, because it sounds like a Frenchman visiting his mistress in a pied-à-terre, and the Escadrille bike deserves better.
In any case, Annie was surprised Jeff was willing to keep going. She thinks she's glad. Pleased, she means. Like, cool with it, in a casual way. Whatever you call that feeling that ties your stomach into knots and makes you want to buy fancy protein bars to leave in your own apartment for a guest you never see. They'll both take the stairs! It'll be safe! And casual!
Annie drives to Jeff's apartment. She's driving too fast, she thinks, and makes an effort not to roll through stop signs. Just nervous, because of their recent lucky miss. She takes off her mask and takes a couple deep breaths outside the door of 204, getting in the zone to relax. This is her escape. Her totally chill, casual, very relaxed escape.
She unlocks the door and of course Jeff is there, because she's at least twenty minutes early. Jeff freezes – he's in the hall, already in his workout gear, duffel in hand. "Uh, hi?" he says.
"Hi! My bad," Annie says. She whips around on her heel. "I'll wait in my car."
Jeff hesitates. "It's fine. No, it is, it's fine. I mean…we both have negative tests, right? I'll be out of here in a minute."
"Right." Annie turns back and smiles timidly at him. She edges into the hall. Jeff zips up his bag and slides past her towards the open door, his mask dangling from his hand. "Well…"
"Well." Jeff raises his hand in an awkward half-wave. Annie tentatively leans forward. Jeff, despite himself, finds Annie in his arms again, with another intense rush of dopamine that he ignores, keeping his clasp light. The mandatory ten seconds later they peel apart.
"Well…see you later," Annie says.
Jeff looks down. "I can't leave."
Annie gazes at him, breathless. "Why not?" She follows his eyeline down, to her own hand, twisted in the fabric of his muscle tank. "Oh."
"Um…are you going to let go?"
Annie looks him in the eye. "I can't."
She slowly draws in the fistful of shirt, Jeff following like a horse on a short rein.
Jeff drops his bag and reaches behind himself, pushing the apartment door shut. Their mouths meeting feels like a deafening explosion, but the only actual sound is the lock swinging home with a 'click'.