The Panacea Programme

Chapter Four - Ezra

It's 3pm. I haven't done much all day except lounge. There isn't exactly a wealth of options considering we must isolate ourselves from everyone. The house feels like a quarantine now. I guess in a way, it is. Boredom begins to set in and take its toll, reducing me to some sort of slow, gormless slug staring vacuously at the walls. I flick channels on the TV, but nothing catches my eye. I resolve to saunter around the house aimlessly, in hopes perhaps I might be inspired by something I see along the way.

The rumble of thunder catches my attention as the yard welcomes the first splosh of heavy raindrops. I peer outside to the atmosphere becoming thick and burdened with rain, the exposition of a great deluge. I watch the puddles spring into existence and the gutters spew streams of rain everywhere but into the drains. Everything outside brightens with the glossy sheen that dampness heralds. It's going to be one of those days. One of the days you could easily delete from memory, and you wouldn't have missed a thing. I message Ivy. I miss her. I need someone to talk to, so I don't succumb to cabin fever. Hey, how are you feeling? What are you up to? Within a matter of seconds there's a response. That girl must be glued to her phone. I thought I was bad.

Emergency gardening. She replies. Gardening? Emergency gardening? Since when does she ever garden and what's so urgent about mowing the lawn? Who does that when they're ill?

Why on earth are you gardening? Aren't you going to get soaked? I don't think your wise be out in the rain while you're sick! I message, puzzled. What Rain? It's just a little cloudy here. I'll explain everything later. But you need to get your ass here asap. I need your help. Her next message reads.

Even more puzzled now than ever, I take note of the torrential shower which still thunders down outside. Must be very local. Informing Ivy that I'm coming over now I run downstairs and deliberate on how exactly I'm going to convince my parents to let me leave.

It's only dad in the living room when I enter. He's home early from work. Mum must still be in bed sleeping after yet another night shift. Great. He's the easier one. "Hey dad! How're you? I hope work was nice today." I say chirpily. "What do you want? What have you done?" he interrogates while perusing the newspaper. Dammit. I guess that was too out of character for me. "Okay I know you won't agree with this, but I absolutely have to go to Ivy's right away." I tell him in plain honesty. 

"Absolutely not. Have you gone mad? You're sick Ezra. Not to mention the fact that you aren't meant to be in contact with other ill people and look at the weather outside. Your mother would have a fit." He's having none of it and equipped with an arsenal of valid reasons to that end. "Please dad. I know all those things. I don't even want to go that much," I lie. "Look, I wouldn't ask unless I absolutely had to. She needs my help with something. She, um, she broke up with her boyfriend." The truth wasn't exactly working anyway. I had to give him something. 

"Ezra you're being ridiculous! No. The CDCP advised you stay here." Dad's a tougher cookie to crack than I anticipated. "Oh, c'mon do you really believe that tripe? We're both already sick what difference would it make? Besides, mum and I promised we'd be there if she needed anything! What kind of people would we be if we didn't stick to our promises?" Dad hesitates, deliberating. "Isn't her older brother there? Can't he console her?" "Dad. Have you met him?"

"You're not very good at listening young man! I believe I said no. That's final." His tone sharpens with impatience. "Fine. Fine." I submit. "I'll just have to wake up mum then because she expressly told me to let her know immediately if Ivy needs help. Oh, she's going to be so tired. I wonder what mood she -". "Don't you dare mister! Do not wake up your mother. She's exhausted." He eventually caves. Success. 

"Fine, you can go. But let me dri-" "Thanks dad. Love you! I'll be back really soon." I cough grabbing my coat and run out the kitchen door leaving him no time to reconsider. I'm glad it was dad and not mum. She'd never let me go. Not a chance. I chuckle to myself, proud of my persuasive skills and grab my bike. Looking back, I see him running outside waving keys in hand. "Ezra, get back here! I'm driving you. You're too sick." I'm just out of sight in time to plead ignorance to his orders. Off I go.