The drawer. The fucking call with Lucky.
The pounding continues, and it finally registers in my mind that someone is banging on my front door, and in my fuzzy, dizzy mind, I’m sure it’s him. Although, I don’t know why he would come here.
I drag myself out of bed, every muscle in my body screaming in protest, and reach for a sweatshirt I tossed haphazardly on my dresser yesterday before slowly shuffling out of the room. I wobble significantly and brace my hand on the wall just so I don’t fall over.
“Ava! Ava, I’m seriously about to break down the door!”
That isn’t Lucky.
That’s Zoey.
I don’t know what in the world she’s doing here. Even though the governor lifted the lockdown, we’re all still supposed to be isolating when we can, and she knows I wasn’t feeling well anyway. The trek to the front door feels like a journey I don’t have stamina for, but I manage to make it there.
I cover my nose and mouth with the neck of my sweatshirt and pull open the door.
Zoey’s standing there dressed like she’s part of a hazmat team. She’s got on one of those clear plastic face shields, eye goggles, a surgical mask, and rubber gloves. “JesusChrist, Ava!”
I squint. “Zoe. What are you—”
“Put this on.” She shoves her hand through the air, keeping a significant distance between us. She’s clutching another surgical mask between her fingers. “Immediately.”
I compliantly take the mask and put it on, and then I have to lean against the wall because I don’t even have the stamina to stand upright this long. “What’s going—”
I blink, and I’m suddenly sitting on the floor in the entryway with my door still wide open, and she’s suddenly stomping around inside my apartment.
She grabs my purse off the coffee table. “Is your phone and license and insurance card and stuff all in here?”
I have no idea what’s going on, and I feel like I’m missing a span of a few minutes. “I…”
“Where’s your phone?”
“In my nightstand drawer.”
Zoey darts down the hall, and I lean my head back against the wall. My eyelids suddenly feel extremely heavy, and despite how little sense it makes that I’m seated on the floor with my door still open, I let them close. Just for a second.
“Ava!”
Zoey’s voice shakes me awake, and she’s suddenly standing in front of me, leaning down toward me, albeit from about an arm’s length from me. She’s now holding my gym bag as well as my purse, and that confuses me even more.
Are gyms even allowed to be open right now?
I really don’t feel like working out. Surely, she can see that.
“Standup, sis! I can’t touch you!”
I manage to push myself off the floor and stand up.
She kicks a pair of flip-flops toward me. “Put those on.”
I do as I’m told.
“Let’s go.”
I compliantly follow her despite still having no idea what is going on. She directs me to her car and makes me sit in the backseat, then she gets in the driver’s seat and rolls down all the windows. The air is delightfully warm in comparison to my frigid apartment.
I blink, and suddenly I’m lying on my side across the seats.
None of it makes sense, but I’m less concerned with it making sense because I have this sudden alarming awareness of not being able to inhale as much as I feel like I need to. Like something is wrapped around my ribcage, and it can only expand so far.
