A day after restaurants were opened, N. and I met at a divorcee get-together, just the two of us at home. The bars had also opened, but we have already become accustomed to putting on our best pajamas.
And besides, the thought that we would discuss our lives two meters apart, with tables spread out two-meters each, made us confused. Yes, our culinary geometry is pretty weak and the coronavirus did not eliminate this disadvantage.
All the merchants on the streets got together to prepare this event. We bought wine, chocolate, and cheese. We spread ourselves comfortably in the porch; we sipped wine bought from a store who had sworn that it is statistically refined to meet the palate of divorced wives, and we told our stories of heroism from the past week. I told her that I managed to replace two lightbulbs and to install a shelf and place a hook for the towels in the shower.
"The coronavirus changed you completely. And you still whine that you lack any skill," my friend said with amazement, only to discover in disappointment that this was done with two male friends who happened to hop in for a coffee and found themselves atop a ladder.
In another case it was a deliveryman who could not turn away to the sight of my weeping face. I sliced watermelon, and from the other apartment, I could hear yells of a couple having a fight.
N. told me that she was convinced that now that the lockdown has been lifted, many married couples will get a divorce. I then immediately recalled something and told her, "Remember that lizard researcher?"
For years I have been following that famous zoologist. Every time he publishes a book on a new skink or some gecko she calls and tells me in some sad voice that this is the man she wants to live with forever.
I was expecting her to lower her gaze and say that there is nothing new, as usual, and that they have exchanged emails but never actually got to meet each other.
N. is a person who sanctifies slow motion.
I, on the other hand, complain that earth revolves too slowly. N. is the queen of lack of speed: She enjoys knitting, and she fetishes every opportunity to engage in deep thought.
She loves the idea of the process and she spread her Bachelor's degree over many years because it was important for her to figure out what it was that she wanted to study.
Even her divorce was exemplary of tortoises living a life of comfort: It took her seven years to get a divorce because she could not find a ride to the rabbinate. Had N. been the coronavirus, the pandemic would have never broken.
That's why I was very surprised when she told me, in a zoological gesture, "The eagle has landed."
"You have once again decided to meet in 2030?"
"No, no. We already met!"
I gasped, swallowed wine, and began to cough. "What? What do you say! How did this happen?"
"Thanks to the coronavirus."
"Because kissing through a mask is sexy?"
"You are so annoying. I just realized that life is short."
"If this is what made you realize this absolute fact, then congratulations to the coronavirus."
"Yes, and the truth is that I got the courage and told him that he was wrong regarding the reptiles' heat."
"N., if you don't mind, I want to hear about your meeting and not about the heat of the reptiles." N. stared at me with a fascinated look, her cheeks blushing, whispering: "He is so wonderful."
"So, if you don't tell me what happened, I am going to tell on you to the police that you have seduced a stranger who should have been in isolation!"
"I just think I had realized that this coronavirus is my only opportunity to do something truly radical. So we corresponded for two weeks, and then we bumped into each other…"
"You bumped into each other!" I snorted in disdain.
"And we maintained a distance of two meters."
"Of course!"
"And we had a mask on!"
"Obviously!"
"And can you believe that a reptile researcher can be such a good kisser?"
