The silence was broken by an obnoxious ad for a local car dealer.
My alarm was going off and I couldn’t get out of bed. It didn’t matter that I had to get up for work, I was freezing. The temperature in the house was the same as normal, which my body was now suggesting was too cold. Every time I shifted positions, I felt a chill, regardless of how many blankets I was buried under. Unfortunately, the alarm wasn’t going to turn itself off, nor was it going to call off work for me. There was a reason I intentionally kept it on the floor at the foot of my bed: I couldn’t ignore it or hit the snooze button that way.
Eventually my bladder insisted that I get up, regardless of how chilly I felt. I took the opportunity to call my boss and inform her I wouldn’t be working again until further notice, to prevent me from needing to call in every morning. She reminded me I’d need a doctor’s note to return to work if I called out for more than two days in a row. I immediately called my doctor’s office and they advised I quarantine.
Not having a cell phone, I didn’t have a way to turn my phone off, but I did have a way to ensure it wouldn’t ring: I left the phone off the hook when I was done talking. With that I dug out every bedspread I owned and piled them onto my bed.
I dozed on and off throughout the day, buried under every blanket, comforter, and even sheet that I’d been able to find. My bed looked ridiculous with three mismatched bedspreads piled on top, but all I cared about was warmth and my body’s current inability to generate it.
Sometime after the sun set I heard a popping sound. I couldn’t tell where it had come from, other than it had been loud enough to wake me up. I dismissed it as a car door closing because getting up to check required moving. I started falling back asleep until I heard my name called out.
Female voice. In my house. I’d already called my parents and told them what was going on. They knew they weren’t supposed to come inside, no matter how worried they might be. My brain started forming more cohesive thoughts and I remembered that the voice had an Equestrian accent. How the heck did one of the ponies get in here? I would’ve heard them buck the door in.
“It’s Kimono. Are you okay? Your phone is off the hook. Nopony can get through to you. We’re worried about you.”
Teleportation. Of course. The ponies had problems with the concept of ‘personal space’ even in the best of times. Add concern to the mix, and I’m surprised Minty didn’t kick down my door personally. As disaster prone as she is, she wouldn’t even have to buck it open, all she’d need to do is touch it and the door would explode into splinters.
My voice was raw from disuse. “Sick. Quarantine. Get out before you’re exposed.” Not even ten words and my body reeled from the effort.
Kimono pushed open my bedroom door. “Ponies are immune to human diseases. You can’t catch pony illnesses either.”
Good to know, but not particularly useful at the moment.
My lack of responses had concerned her further, and she poked her snout under the mountain of blankets. I shivered as the blankets moved around me. Her horn glowed, illuminating her way forward as she made her way towards me. I didn’t have the strength to argue, and frankly at that point adding a unicorn to the mix sounded appealing, because she was another source of heat. She could probably slow roast me in my own juices with that horn of hers, and with as cold as I was, that was starting to sound tempting.
She wrinkled her snout as she got closer. “You smell disgusting.”
“Great to see you too.” I hadn’t showered since the previous morning. I hadn’t even deodorized, and despite my chills, my body had been constantly sweating. Body odor had been the least of my concerns considering I was supposed to be quarantining.
I heard a click as Kimono unlocked my front door with her magic, and then the muffled pounding of rapidly moving hooves on carpet. Minty, Flitter, and Bifröst poked their heads into my room, and Kimono beckoned them forward.
“Forgive the mess.” I coughed a few times before finishing, “I really wasn’t expecting company. I’m supposed to be in quarantine.”
Minty looked around. “It looks like you’re in your house to me. Where is quarantine? We’ll get you there!”
I didn’t have the energy to deal with Minty, so I just looked at Kimono and groaned.
She mouthed ‘sorry’ then turned her attention to the enthusiastic green earth pony. I could hear her explaining the concept of isolating to prevent the spread of germs as they clip clopped across the tiled floor of my kitchen.
Flitter reached out a hoof and rubbed it along my back. “You’re soaked.”
“Sweat.”
“Too many blankets.”
“Noooo,” I cried, as she started taking the covers off. “I have the chills, body can’t…” I trailed off as I started coughing again. “Body can’t regulate temp. Need heat.”
“Pegasi are insulated from storms.” Flitter and Bifröst spread their wings across me and it felt warmer than all the blankets in the world. I dozed off with the two pegasi snuggled against me.
When I next woke, the blankets were back and the ponies were gone. I hadn’t expected them to stay – they had their own lives to live, and a car wash to run. Still, it was disappointing. I opened my eyes, for what little good it did. It was dark in my room, and the lack of any light coming in from behind the curtains indicated it was the middle of the night.
I’d always been a night owl; of course my body would readapt to my default setting even after years of working first shift. I was hungry, but my cupboard was almost bare. Intentionally so, since my cooking skills were legendarily bad. Unfortunately, when forced into a sudden and unexpected quarantine, this became a big problem.
I scrounged up a box of elbow noodles. No sauce, no cheese, just a solitary box of pasta. I could melt butter over them. Meh, that’s more effort than I’ve got to expend at the moment. Instead, I ate a pound of Swedish Fish and went back to bed.
Morning came and I awoke to the doorbell ringing. I ignored it but it rang again. It quickly turned into a battle of wills between myself and whoever was flagrantly ignoring my ‘no soliciting’ sign.
The noisemaker won, if only because every time I’d slip back into slumber, the doorbell would ring again. I finally gave up and tossed a robe over my pajamas to make myself look as presentable as possible to whomever was harassing me. And if I also happened to look like they dragged me out of bed – perfect. Because whoever it was really had dragged me out of bed.
I set my face to ‘grumpy’ and answered the door. “Hello?” I looked out and saw nothing, so I looked down expecting to find a Girl Scout selling cookies. Instead I found a chubby purplish-pink pony with an absolutely disarming smile. My grumpy frown disappeared as I warned her I was in quarantine. Like Kimono and the others, she dismissed the warning as not applying to her, and invited herself in.
“I’m here to help you feel better. I’m a nurse.” She curtseyed, showing off her uniform.
“Unless you’re named Serenity Hills, my HMO isn’t going to cover this.”
“Sweetheart, actually. And all expenses have already been paid courtesy Where All It Ever Does Is Rain Car Wash, LLC.”
I’d been going there for two and a half years, and the fact that the car wash actually had a name threw me for a loop. The signs on the property merely said ‘car wash’ and I’d never stopped to consider that they had to have some sort of legal name.
Lyrics from the Bruce Springsteen song Downbound Train aside, the name was clever since their whole shtick was hopping on the clouds and raining water down on the cars below. Of course, rain was the last thing most people wanted to associate with washing their cars, so I could appreciate the desire to keep it on the down low.
Sweetheart gave me some water. “You’re probably dehydrated. Drink.”
So I drank until she was satisfied I’d had enough, and then she head-butted me back to my bedroom. Literally. “Sleep.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. Answering the door had taken more out of me than such a simple task had any right to. I was exhausted, my nose wouldn’t stop dripping, and even thinking felt like too much effort. I’d always had vivid dreams, but the fever dreams were… bizarre. Even in terms of dreaming they made no sense, at least for the scant few seconds I remembered them before slipping back into slumber.
By the time Sweetheart knocked on my bedroom door, she’d had enough time to make herself at home and set up her equipment. She helped me sit up, then gave me a potion to drink. I hadn’t had a liquid medication since I was a kid, but it was easier than trying to swallow pills with a sore throat.
“Open wide.” Nurse Sweetheart was brandishing a thermometer.
I shook my head. “Nope. Overactive gag reflex. Don’t you have a digital thermometer?” She shook her head. “I’ll buy you one if it means you don’t shove that in my mouth… or anywhere else.” I handed her money. “There’s a drugstore less than a mile that way.” I pointed in vaguely the right direction.
“I don’t have a car.”
“Take mine.” I gave her the key to my station wagon.
“I also don’t have a driver’s license.”
I groaned as I stood up on wobbly legs. “Do any of these medications cause drowsiness?”
“All of them. Sleep is the best thing for you right now as your body heals itself.”
I sank back onto my bed in defeat. “How long until my next dose?”
“Two hours.”
“Wake me.”
I flopped back into my bed as she retorted, “I have to wake you up so you can take your meds.”
I didn’t fall asleep, much to my annoyance. Sweetheart took note of that and broke out some card games. First we played Old Maid. I lost. Then we played Crazy Eights and I won. Then Nurse Sweetheart beat me at Memory and Go Fish for good measure.
Her phone buzzed, and it was time for my next dose of medication. Instead I ushered her out to my car and drove her to the nearest pharmacy, making a point of driving past the Serenity Hills Funeral Home, my HMO’s health care provider of choice. She returned with a shiny new digital thermometer, which she proceeded to use and confirm I was still running a fever. While we were out and about, I drove to the grocery store too. I once again handed her money and stayed in the car.
She returned with a full shopping cart… and my money. I groaned when I saw why – she hadn’t picked up any of the items on my shopping list. Instead there was bread, vegetables, orange juice, soup… items that hadn’t been stocked in my home in years. “You need to eat better. Not just now that you’re sick, but in general.”
She returned the shopping cart to the store while I started digging through the bags of groceries, looking for something that was actually edible. This is why the ponies paid for her services up front. They knew I’d never tolerate this if this was coming out of my pocket.
When she got back in the car she put her seatbelt on and waited.
And waited.
She looked at me. “Are you okay?”
“Super.”
“I bought frozen and perishable goods, and you’re overdue for your next dose of medication. We should get going.”
“That’s nice.” The car was still very much parked.
“Eating healthier isn’t going to kill you.”
“Says you.”
“Well, I am a nurse.” We continued sitting there. “I’ll come back if you don’t like anything I bought.”
Good enough. I didn’t know how much longer I’d have been able to continue bluffing. She was adorable and I was exhausted. My pony pals had long since learned that if they wanted something from me, asking when I was tired was a sure bet. It took a lot of energy to put up a façade that they couldn’t immediately crumble with just a smile. The only thing that had saved me from cracking was that turning the key to start the motor took effort, and for the moment, effort was to be avoided at all costs.
I drove the three blocks to my house, and backed my station wagon in the driveway to make unloading it easier. I tried to grab a couple of shopping bags but Sweetheart shooed me away from them, as if lifting a few pounds of food was going to overexert me.
Instead I held the door open for her, then took my medication. Unlike the awful ‘cherry’ flavored cough syrup I’d taken every time I was sick as a child, Sweetheart’s potions had the slightest hint of mint flavoring, and didn’t leave a foul aftertaste.
They also did exactly what they were intended to do – they made me drowsy, unlike most over-the-counter medications that promised drowsiness and instead delivered the exact opposite. I’d never worried about medications that warned of drowsiness because up until now, none of them had ever had that effect on me.
Thankfully I hadn’t bothered to change out of my pajamas when I drove to the store because after drinking the potions, I didn’t have the energy to change. It took all my effort just to crawl under the blankets.
It was once again the middle of the night when I next awoke, this time in a cold sweat. My fever had broken, and I wiggled out from under the clammy blankets that had been closest to me, then wormed my way under the dry blankets. I dumped the sweaty bedding on the floor, to be dealt with in the morning. Or perhaps several mornings in the future, when I was finally feeling better.
I’d no sooner made myself comfortable than Sweetheart poked her snout into my room. “You okay?”
“Mn-hm.”
“Fever broke?”
“Mn-hm.”
“Time for another dose of the healing potions.”
My breath was minty fresh after I’d swallowed the medication, and I rolled onto my side and wrapped the blankets around me.
I was feeling significantly better when I next woke. I couldn’t help but notice the soggy bedding had disappeared sometime during the night.
Breakfast was waiting for me – orange juice and toast. It was only the basics, but it had been two days since my ‘meal’ of Swedish Fish and I was hungry. Orange juice wasn’t one of my favorites, and certainly not something I’d buy for myself. But it was something other than water, making it an explosion of flavor for my neglected taste buds.
I opened my eyes. Really opened them – my dining room was surprisingly sunlit. I never bothered opening the blinds, but Sweetheart had, and the early morning sunlight danced on the daffodil yellow walls. It was gorgeous, far better than the artificial light that normally brightened the room, and a reminder as to why I’d painted the kitchen and dining room that color to begin with. A potted plant that I didn’t own rested on the kitchen windowsill. I hope she’s taking that with her when she leaves. My track record with plants was dismal – I couldn’t keep flowers alive, yet somehow couldn’t manage to kill weeds. I’d even managed to kill a cactus in my younger days.
The toast was crunchy, but buttery. Simply something to put in my stomach to see if it would stay down.
It didn’t. Breakfast was less pleasant the second time around. The regular potions were joined by a tummy ache potion that was the same bright pink as Pepto-Bismol, but tasting of cinnamon.
After a quick shower and taking care of other basic hygiene, I returned to bed. I hadn’t bothered shaving – I wasn’t going anywhere, so no one was going to care if I was scruffy. My stubble wasn’t long enough to itch, and that was all that mattered to me.
Sleep didn’t come as easily this time, though I was unsure if that was because I was starting to feel better, or if I’d started building tolerance to the potions.
For the first time in days, my mind felt clear – no grogginess, no sinus pressure; even my congestion had cleared up a bit. My mind demanded stimulation, and I opened the curtains and picked up a book. A compilation of Garfield comics, I hadn’t read through it since I was a kid. There was a time I could quote Garfield, but those days had long since passed, lost to a time when school was my only responsibility.
My chuckling was enough to bring Sweetheart around. “That potion should have knocked you out for at least six hours.”
“I’m an insomniac, and I build up tolerance to medication quickly. Oh, and most ‘drowsiness’ medications have the exact opposite reaction on me. Which probably means my body is returning to normal. I’m definitely feeling better than I did yesterday.”
She pulled up a chair and I pulled an old board game out of my closet. It had been many years since I’d last played Sorry. Unlike the card games, I kicked Sweetheart’s tail at it.
Risk wasn’t popular with ponies, so we skipped it and played the Game of Life and Monopoly instead. I swept the board games as easily as she’d won the card games.
Lunchtime came and went, and I continued to stick to water and orange juice. My appetite hadn’t returned and I saw no reason to force the issue, even if Sweetheart nagged me to try eating something. I reminded her that the only thing I’d managed to keep down in three days was Swedish Fish, and I’d eaten the last of them that night.
She made corn noodle soup. Technically, it was supposed to be chicken corn noodle soup, but there was no meat in it. I couldn’t tell what she’d used for broth, but it was no doubt also a vegetarian option. I took the end from the loaf of potato bread and tore it into pieces which I dropped into the soup. Just because it wasn’t French onion soup didn’t mean I couldn’t have croutons.
It wasn’t the best soup I’d ever had, but it was food and it stayed down thanks to Sweetheart’s potion. Then she gave me some crackers. Not with the soup, after the soup. This restaurant’s getting two stars at best.
She was about to make some toast when I stopped her. Under normal circumstances, I’d still be hungry. It was obvious I hadn’t returned to full strength because I was full after such a tiny meal. Still, it was an improvement, as was the fact that my next dose of potion didn’t immediately knock me out.
Instead we played more games. I put a hoodie on to keep me warm, but it was nice not to be in bed. At first it was Yahtzee. We switched to Uno when Kimono, Minty, Bifröst, and Flitter showed up. They’d also brought pizza, and I tore into it like a Velociraptor on a Jurassic Park tourist. It was the first real food I’d had in days. I was devouring my sixth slice when I realized none of the ponies had taken so much as a single slice for themselves.
I blushed. They’d brought two pies, which meant technically there were still ten slices left, or two apiece for them.
“We brought them for you. We know how much you enjoy pizza, and since you can’t go anywhere…”
“Thank you. How about I make some snacks?” I grabbed some microwavable popcorn from the cupboard. The only other snacks left in the house were the crackers Sweetheart had bought, so I put those out while we waited for the popcorn to finish popping.
I poured the popcorn in a bowl and set it in the middle of the table, then played a green Reverse card, flipping things back to Minty. Then I started a second bag of popcorn, because one bag wasn’t going to be enough for five ponies. And me. Because despite gorging on pizza, I was still hungry, yet determined not to have any more slices.
Kimono and I were the best players, but we were on opposite sides of the table from each other, with a pair of ponies separating us on each side. Minty was surprisingly adept at the game, with a vacant expression on her face that made it impossible to get a read on her.
I put the second bowl of popcorn on the table to discover Minty had played a blue Reverse card, flipping things back to me, and I’d been holding things up.
I raised my arms in the air. “Delay of game. Five-yard penalty. Repeat first down.”
Minty looked out the window at my neighborhood. “Five yards in which direction? And are we talking about front yards or backyards?”
The others chuckled as I pondered my hand. I didn’t have any blue, but I did have a Wild+4. I looked to my left, at the pony who’d nursed me back to health the past few days. Could I do that to her?
I looked to my right, where Minty was still trying to figure out what yard we were going to have to move to, and realized that I had to play the card eventually, and I’d feel worse dumping it on Minty.
“I’m seeing red.” I placed the card on the heap, gloating as Sweetheart picked up four additional cards. “Pick, pick, pick…” It was short, but melodic. It had been my Grandma’s singsong expression when a player was picking up extra cards, and I’d now introduced it to a completely new audience.
I didn’t even get a chance to lay down a red card – Kimono reversed things again and Sweetheart grinned. “I seem to recall that you don’t have a certain color. So… I guess you’ll be feeling blue.” Sweetheart laid a blue 4 on top of the red 4 Bifröst had played. “You know, since I have all these extra cards now.”
I started picking up cards and she added, “Pick, pick, pick…” for good measure.
Half a dozen cards later I finally found a four and played it. “Green may not be your color, but it’s mine.”
“Mine too!” Minty added. “I love green!” Then she scratched her head. “I don’t have any green cards, but it’s still my favorite color anyway!”
Oh Minty, Minty, Minty. Never change. I ruffled her mane, and gave her a quick ear scratch for good measure.
Flitter ended up being the night’s big winner. She was sitting between Minty and Kimono, and after Kimono’s stunt with the reverse I took note of what colors Flitter had, or more importantly, didn’t have. I had more than enough cards in my hand to consistently change things away from colors I knew she was out of. I’m sure Kimono figured out what I was doing, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. When things reversed, I switched to helping Bifröst, who was sitting on Kimono’s other side.
It was well after midnight by the time the ponies left. None of them had taken so much as a bite out of the pizza, and I polished off the last two slices left from the pizza I’d been eating from, and placed the other pizza box in the fridge. Normally I’d reheat pizza in the oven, but I was feeling too impatient. It was either eat cold pizza, or warm but rubbery microwaved pizza, but that was an easy decision. One that didn’t even require a minute’s worth of waiting.
I sat on the couch next to Sweetheart as I finished off the pizza. “I feel a lot better than I did. Thank you.” I didn’t have the rapport with her that I had with my friends from the car wash, so I put my hand out tentatively. Most ponies were touchy-feely, but I never made the assumption. She moved her head accordingly, and I scratched her ears. “Sorry for being a pain in the neck.”
She laughed. “You weren’t a difficult patient at all. Picky eater, perhaps, but that’s about it. You bought me a thermometer because of your gag reflex. Most folks would’ve just refused to open their mouths.”
“Eh… I tried that when I was a kid. I learned there are other places one can have one’s temperature taken. Everybody should have a digital thermometer these days. There’s no excuse for not having one in this day and age.”
“Perhaps, though we ponies like to stick to traditional methods.” She poked my stomach. “You lost a few pounds this week. Think of it as a head start. You could stand to lose about ten or twenty more. You’d feel more energetic and healthier in general. Eating that junk isn’t going to help.” She motioned to what was left of the pizza. “You eat like an unattended colt.”
“Yeah, that’s legit.” I would’ve made a comment about her own extra pounds, but I had a hunch there was a very different reason for her girth. Sitting next to her, with her pressing against me to get ear scratches confirmed it – I felt the little foal inside her kick.
“Little filly or colt?”
“We want to be surprised.”
“Which one do you want?”
“We have a couple of colts already. It would be nice to have a filly.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Her eyelids were getting heavier the more I scratched her ears. Once she was asleep I headed back to my computer room. I’d slept too much the previous few days and my body wasn’t tired in the least. There’d been no evening potion, and I felt almost back to normal. I still had to quarantine for another four days, but I was functional again.
So I spent a few hours surfing the web, getting caught up on everything I’d missed the previous few days until my own eyelids started feeling heavy.
I awoke halfway through the next morning to an empty house. Sweetheart had left my home neater than when she’d arrived, begging the question as to whether she was a nurse, or a maid. I was feeling better, and she’d moved on to the next patient. She’d left behind a note for my return to work on my dining room table, next to a mug, empty save for an unused herbal teabag. She’d even drawn a little smiley face on a Post-It note and stuck it to the refrigerator.
The sweaty bedding from when my fever broke had been washed and left on top of my couch, bringing a whiff of a spring day to the stagnant air in the rest of the house. How come my laundry never comes out smelling this nice when I do it?
Author's Note
Story notes: https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/987687/story-notes-quarantine
