This is a work of fiction that explores the first quarter of the pandemic’s impact on mental health through fictional characters.
Tucson, Arizona | July (?), 2020
The smell of toasted cheese wafted its way up Emilio’s nostrils and he followed his nose out of his room. The kitchen faced east, which made the room one of the coolest during the Tucson summers. His sister, Marisol, stood at the stove tending to a quesadilla, half in the dark, which Emilio laughed at. Their parents had constantly nagged them to keep the lights off if they were not being used, and old habits die hard.
“Hey, do you want one?” Marisol looked up when he walked in and gestured to her quesadilla.
“Si, gracias,” Emilio replied, as he poured two cups of iced tea and sat down at the kitchen table. He scrolled through his phone seeing various unanswered messages from his friends in California. He then tapped the email app to see if any of his job applications had been replied to. Two rejection emails…nothing more.
Great. Emilio slammed his phone face down a little too hard and tugged at his beard in frustration. Marisol looked over with an empathetic expression, her high messy bun flopping to one side.
“Mamá y papá son irracionales,” She said, already knowing why Emilio was frustrated. She gestured for him to collect his lunch. He grabbed some salsa and sour cream from the fridge before sitting down.
“I know,” Emilio said in English as he stabbed a piece of quesadilla. “They think I’m not trying, but they don’t seem to understand that I’m not qualified for the positions they want me to get.” He was not against getting a new job in Arizona, only that his parents wanted him to find an office job that would allow him to work from home. He had applied to many positions that fit their criteria and no luck. His parents told him that the companies probably chose someone more qualified, but Emilio was tired of hearing that speech when it was just a formal way of companies saying “no”.
Emilio thought often of his pre-pandemic life. He had finally wedged his foot in the door as a sound engineer at Sacramento’s biggest music venues, and then the pandemic hit, causing a downfall no one had been prepared for. He had made the difficult decision to move back to Arizona from California as a safety net, but how he missed his old life and friends.
Lansing, California | 08/23/2020
Takashi Ikuhara walked four steps behind his father, Juro. Even on a sunny day, a cloud loomed over Juro. Takashi knew the drill; never take the lead. The gruff man was grumbling quietly in Japanese, too low for Takashi to make out what he was saying. No one who passed by them was wearing a mask, which Takashi found odd, considering earlier that day almost everyone outside had a face covering.
“Takashi,” Juro said abruptly, turning on his heels to face Takashi, who froze.
Neither his name, nor the abrupt movement, were good signs. Before any other words came out of Juro’s mouth, Takashi doubled over, grabbing his right side. The painful ripping sensation crawled up to his back. He crumpled onto the sidewalk, crying out. He managed to lift his crimson hand and saw the blood seeping through his shirt, and despite his vision blurring, he could see feet walking by.
Why was no one stopping?
“Help me-!” Takashi managed to gasp before everything faded to white…
Takashi’s entire body convulsed itself awake. He lifted his right arm and glanced down at his side. No blood. He rolled over and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, cursing silently. Stupid dream, that wasn’t even what really happened, he thought to himself. His two Pitbulls, Coco and Kobe, stirred slightly but continued to snooze at the foot of the bed. Well, at least they were going to get a good night’s rest.
He felt around his bedside table for his phone, not bothering to get his glasses first. Even on night mode, the dim orange glow of his phone screen was a shock to his retinas. After blinking a few times, he saw that it was almost six am. He sat up, felt around for his glasses, and headed toward the bathroom.
Takashi’s eyes were heavy as he looked at his double in the mirror above the sink. Pre-pandemic, he would not have given himself a second glance, but he was starting to look rather sickly. The angles of his face had gotten sharper, his arms thinner, and the bags under his eyes darker. He pulled his long black hair into a messy bun, then bent over and splashed some cold water on his face.
The night terrors and the mind static had crawled back at the start of August during the pandemic year. Takashi was honestly confused; he had not dreamed in many years and normally the depressing static in his mind, that he compared to an old TV, never lasted more than a week in the past few years. However, it was almost the end of August, and neither had let up. He wondered if his friends had any suspicions.
He glanced left to see a hint of the morning light peeking through the branches of the lime tree right outside of the bathroom window. Sho, Takashi’s grey cat, strolled into the bathroom just as he walked out. The static in Takashi’s mind was a low hum.
Lansing, California | a weekday in early September, 2020
Was today Les’ day off? Sheeves had not memorized her partner’s new schedule. She glanced to her right to see Les’ back to her, his side slowly going up and down as he still slept. Sheeves lifted the covers to see if their black chihuahua, Mr. Pickles, was still snoozing. The little black ball of fuzz with two triangles attached was still perfectly content.
Carefully, Sheeves got up and went to do her business in the bathroom. She still was not used to seeing herself with her natural blonde hair. Normally, Sheeves dyed her hair all kinds of colors. But the pandemic had worn her out, and upkeep of fancy hair was not worth it when the only places she went were to the store and work.
Her tattoos were still the same, obviously. She rolled her eyes at her reflection. Her left arm was a sleeve of solid black ink with white lines swirling in various directions, while her right arm was adorned in black and grey pieces with spooky themes. Now they served as bonus memories of socializing with strangers and friends. She washed her hands and returned to the bedroom. Typically, Sheeves would put on hot water for coffee at this point, but she was not in the mood to fully wake up yet.
Les had shifted to laying on his back and Mr. Pickles was sitting at the edge of the bed, waiting patiently to be put down. Sheeves smiled as she plopped the small dog on the ground, and he trotted out of the room. She got back into bed and took a moment to look at her partner.
Les’ auburn hair had grown out to the bottom of his chin and he had given up on shaving until further notice. He only trimmed his beard when it got too out of control for both their liking. Les had asked her one day if he was too old to keep the black ring in his left nostril, but she assured him he looked fine. It was hardly noticeable. Whatever Les looked like, she always thought he was handsome.
“I can feel you staring at me,” Les’ said with a smile, his eyes still closed.
“Oh, so now you have x-ray vision?” Sheeves asked as she rolled closer to Les and draped an arm over his chest.
“Yes, a skill they taught me at the new job,” Les’ eyes opened, and he glanced over at her grinning.
“Uh huh,” Sheeves said with a hint of sarcasm before rolling on top of him.
“You know it’s my day off, right?” Les said as he ran his hands up her back and under her shirt.
“Actually, I didn’t know,” Sheeves replied as she leaned in, so her nose touched his. Her body was already sending signals…
A few hours later, the two figured it was time to stop fooling around and get started with their day. Their clothes were on the floor at the foot of the nightstand on Les’ side of the bed and their brains were on the decline from a euphoric disarray.
“Well,” Les said as he flopped down and snuggled close to her. “This year might fucking suck, but at least sex is the same.”
Sheeves laughed out loud. The sentence sounded absurd but truthful, and now she was ready for coffee.
Birmingham, United Kingdom | 9/26/2020
Ezra was confused about where he was. The place felt familiar, but at the same time he had never been there before. He and his partner, Peter, were on the bus heading south. They sat together in the front row on the second story, their usual spot when they took public transit. The early evening was gloomy with an orange tinted dusk approaching fast.
They were headed to the theatre. Some musical about monsters overthrowing the current world, which was not a far fetched idea considering the current state of the planet. Whose bright idea was it to get tickets to this thing? Neither of them really liked horror or musicals.
“That’s where I almost went to school,” Ezra said pointing out the window at a building that passed by. Peter looked over but stayed silent. Probably because he knew Ezra was full of shit. It was all nonsense, but when Ezra saw the building, he knew that it was a secondary school that he had almost attended before deciding on a different one.
Then time glitched. Ezra found himself in the driver’s seat of a car he had never owned, trying to parallel park. The rift in time had skipped dusk and went straight to night. Peter was still silent, his dark eyes distant behind his glasses and his long blonde hair unkempt.
“We’ll have to take the bus again to get to the theatre. Sorry I couldn’t get us closer,” Ezra said as he finally got the car against the curb. Peter shrugged and they got out.
Ezra looked across the street and a storm of anxiety descended onto him. Enormous white featureless bodies were piled haphazardly on top of each other. Each body landing and distorting into unnatural folds. Peter seemed unbothered, and Ezra somehow knew they were props for the play. How did he know that information? Regardless, Ezra felt uneasy at the thought of them moving at any moment…
Ezra’s eyes blinked three times before fully opening. The first thing he saw was the thin line of muted yellow from the light peeking through his curtains. He was thankful that he would never know if the bodies felt like moving or not.
He had stayed up late talking with someone online about identity crises and that must have signaled his brain to conjure unsettling dreams. He rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb before sitting up and flipping his legs over the side of the bed. It was 2 a.m. in California, so he would have to wait to tell Peter about his strange dream. He decided to get up to put the kettle on for tea when he had his first “2020 is bullshit” thought of the day.
Berkeley, California | A day at the end of September 2020
Peter’s shoulders sank below the steaming bath water and he folded his knees inward so that his legs were still submerged under water. The steam curled up to greet the muted afternoon light that shone through the window above the tub. Peter tilted his head back and wished with every vessel in his body that he could evaporate into nothingness. Just like the steamy mist.
So far, his accomplishments of the day included taking his dachshund, Winnie, for a walk, and drawing himself a bath. Peter had not thought of the day beyond those two things, and he knew nothing else was going to happen besides a few more walks for the dog. His days off were dull and all the same at this point.
It had been seven months since he had seen his partner, Ezra, in person, and his best friend, Emilio, had moved back to Arizona. He was in contact with them by texting and video call, but it was not the same as before the pandemic disaster. When they all would meet up, hang out at someone’s house and smoke weed all evening, or go out and get drunk.
Peter and Ezra texted every day, and video chatted at least once a week, but Peter was so tired and never had anything to talk about anymore. Even though he was back at work, nothing was right. His mental health had plummeted, and the only thing that kept him holding on was his dog. He loved her and knew that if he completely fell off the wagon, she would suffer the consequences of his actions. He glanced over at his bed to see Winnie wandering around the fluffy terrain before spinning in a few circles and settling down. He felt half a smile form before it vanished.
But is it even worth it anymore? Peter thought as he looked back at the water and twirled his right index finger clockwise and then reversed. Winnie could always have a good life, a better life, with someone else. He adjusted his posture and turned the faucet on with his foot to add more hot water. He closed his eyes, and an unpredictable part of his most hated memory invaded his mind.
Peter was back in 2018 in his old place, still sitting in a hot bath. A whole two weeks of barely eating and not bathing had done a number on him. Ezra sat with his back against the tub, his wavy black hair stuck up in different directions. Peter knew his partner’s wide dark brown eyes were still slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep. Ezra had immediately headed to Peter’s after getting off his 19-hour flight back to the States from the United Kingdom.
“I’m sorry…I didn’t come sooner,” Ezra said, his voice shaky. “I should’ve just put an earlier flight on my credit card.”
“I wouldn’t have wanted you to do that… I’m honestly surprised you’re even here at all,” Peter replied, keeping his eyes on the faucet knobs. Ezra was saying something inaudible, but he already knew the entire conversation by heart.
Peter blinked and he was back in the present, Ezra gone. He rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb to fight back tears, trying to think of something else. God, how grateful he was to not live in that apartment anymore, that he had a cute little dog, that Ezra still loved him even from another country. But was he worthy of that love?
Uncertain of the answer to his own question and feeling so alone, Peter wept.
Lansing, California | October 10, 2020
Takashi was grinning, and even felt a bit of the post-show dopamine that he missed so much, despite sitting alone in his living room with only his guitar and computer. But like everything else good during the pandemic year, it lasted a solid five minutes and then he was back to feeling like utter shit after signing off the video call that was going to be the band’s new music video.
Takashi stood up, unplugged his guitar from the audio interface adapter, the tool that allowed his guitar to channel into his computer. He moved the instrument to the couch, and the adapter and the laptop to the coffee table. He then began to put all the other things he had pulled out for the recording session back where they belonged.
Eric, Takashi’s housemate and good friend, had let the dogs Coco and Kobe out of their momentary confinement that was his room to keep them from bothering Takashi while he worked. They half trotted, half bounded down the hall before skidding to a halt and nearly crashing into each other. Coco went over to the dog bed by the entertainment center and made herself comfy while Kobe went to the kitchen to drink some water. At least they were living their best lives.
For Takashi, one of the most frustrating things about feeling low all the time was that the highs were hardly worth it. He had mentioned his thoughts with extra sarcasm to Eric and Les in passing, but he knew that they also had their own things to deal with. It was fine though; keeping his thoughts and feelings mostly to himself was nothing new.
“How did it go?” Eric asked, emerging from his room. “You look in your element for the first time in a while.”
Eric had a point. Takashi wore the black loose-fitting tank top he usually donned for summer shows and his long hair was let down. He even decided to wear his good black jeans, but they were too big due to the weight he had lost. If he were standing in a venue rather than his living room, he would look almost perfectly in place.
Takashi adjusted his guitar under his arm and let Eric pass. “It was fine,” Takashi said. “Beau and Dominic said they’d take the lead on the editing for this one, so I don’t have much else to do unless they ask for something specific.”
“That’s nice of them,” Eric said as he stopped and stretched his arms behind him. “Do you want to get take-out?”
“Sure,” Takashi replied a little louder as he walked down the hall to his room. “You choose the place; I’ll be back out in a moment.” He placed his guitar on its stand and changed into a t-shirt and sweats. A meowing Sho immediately circled around on the clothes that had just thrown on the floor and made himself comfy. Takashi raised an eyebrow at the cat.
“I guess that’s fine,” Takashi mumbled, unsure if he was talking more to the cat or himself.