Chapter 2: The next day - Lockdown!
The cold morning air enveloped me as I gently placed my hand on my belly. An instinctive gesture, as if this touch could somehow have eased the strangeness of that place.
The first thing I had registered was the silence. Silent and empty, so unlike the restless bustle of Manila. Before me, the small town stretched out. No roaring jeepneys, no crowds of people, no sounds that brought the streets to life, no clatter of our neighbor’s broken karaoke machine. Just silence and the biting cold creeping into my coat and gnawing at my skin. A deep, wooded hush, broken only by the hesitant chirping of birds.
Jason said it was normal for that time of year, but to me, it felt surreal. Ten degrees. In Manila, I never felt that cold, not even at night. My thin, unprepared clothes offered little protection against the chill that seeped into my very bones, even inside the house. It felt as though that cold didn’t just settle on my skin but burrowed deeper, somewhere I couldn’t shake it off.
We had arrived the day before, on one of the last flights leaving the Philippines. And now... silence. Everything felt locked up, like a cage whose door had just closed behind us. Jason seemed calm, optimistic, speaking of plans, of a new life, of a future for us. I nodded mechanically, but somewhere inside, I still felt as though I was trying to grasp that new ground beneath my feet, while everything around me remained so unfamiliar.
My legs felt heavy as I sensed the cool earth beneath my shoes. Perhaps it was the pregnancy. Or perhaps it was the exhaustion that had clung to me since our arrival. Jason was already moving within that new world, while I still stood there, feeling the cold, bearing the weight of the unborn life within me, and somewhere in the distance, Manila—fading more into memory with each passing day.
I pulled my jacket tighter around me. Jason came outside and handed me another blanket, which felt like overkill. I said, “Over...” short for “overacting,” trying to let him know I thought he was overdoing it. But deep down, I knew I needed the blanket to shield me from a cold I had never experienced before. I told him I needed to see a gynecologist as soon as possible, just to make sure everything was fine with the baby inside me. It wasn’t that I felt anything was wrong, but Jason insisted this should be one of the first things we handled there. Along with finding an apartment, of course. Both were very important.
When Jason mentioned Agnes, I briefly got the feeling he knew more about her than he was letting on. But I brushed the thought aside. I didn’t want to dwell on it—it was probably just a baseless feeling. Still, it bothered me a little. I thought it was more about how jealous I got whenever Jason even mentioned another woman.
At the same time, I missed Jason’s physical closeness. It wasn’t that he wasn’t taking care of me—he did everything he could—but I missed feeling desired by him. He said he was under a lot of stress, juggling the task of building a life for us, the financial worries, and his eight-hour, five-day workweeks. Right then, he said, there was no time for anything else.
I understood that, and I saw it too. But my body still yearned to be desired, to be touched in a way that felt special. I missed it so much. Maybe that was why I overreacted more when Jason so much as mentioned other women. Not outwardly, but inside, it stirred something in me.
I went back inside with Jason and told him I was going to take a bath. Later, we planned to go out shopping, maybe find some warmer clothes for me. “While I’m in the bath, maybe you could call a doctor,” I suggested.
“It’s still too early. Most clinics don’t open for another half hour.”
“Still, you could at least look up the clinics,” I replied, a bit sharply, my tone tinged with irritation. Jason tried to reassure me—at least, he made an effort. He told me he was waiting for a letter from the health insurance company so I could visit the doctor. He had arranged it back in Manila, and the letter should arrive that day.
I asked if he had already found a doctor. He could do that while we waited for the letter. He said, “Yes, I’ve already put together a list, and Daryl”—Jason’s acquaintance who was letting us stay there—“has an ex-wife named Agnes. I told you about her, right? She’s a medical assistant or worked at the hospital, I’m not sure. But she might be able to help.”
Warm water flowed over my body, and for a moment, I thought it might drive out the cold that felt embedded deep within me. But it was only a superficial warmth, fleeting and temporary. I placed my hand on my belly, tracing the gentle curve. The water streamed over my fingers as I felt the familiar pressure of the life growing inside me.
There was no reason to worry. And yet, that gnawing uncertainty wouldn’t let me go. It would have been easier if I had had a doctor—a woman—someone who could reassure me, tell me everything was fine. One appointment, one examination, and I could have the peace I craved.
I gasped as a wave of pleasure crashed over me, and I pressed my back harder against the cold tiles, seeking purchase as the sensation threatens to overwhelm me.
The sound of the water rushed against the shower floor seems to mimic the rhythm of my movements, each splash echoed the steady beat of my fingers against my clit.
"Fuck," I moaned a little bit louder, the sound of my voice echoed in the shower. My fingers moved faster, my hips bucked against the cool wall as I let the sensation take over my entire being. I couldn't help but imagine Jason's face when he saw me like this. Wet, wanton, and desperate for release.
Then, my mind didn't fully switched off. It kept circling back to everything weighed on us: the baby, the apartment search, the money. A strange thought creept in: the idea of being able to help solve our financial problems almost excited me. It was a similar heat that courses through me as I touched myself. A feeling that oddly motivated me.
I turned around, leaned my back against the cool shower wall, and spreaded my legs slightly wider. My fingers continued their path, my breathing quickened and my thoughts began to drift. It was all about the sensation, about this moment.
As I rubbed my clit in slow, steady circles, my other hand moved lower, slided a finger inside my pussy. I moaned again, my hips bucked slightly at the intrusion. It had been too long since I’ve felt this fullness, and my body was more than ready for it.
My fingers found my clit, and I let out a soft moan as I began to circle it, my touch firm and determined. I was already so wet. Wetter than I had been in months. It’s as if my body had been waiting for this, aching for it.
My fingers slided through the slickness, parting my folds as I began to explore. I was already aching for more, my body responded to my touch with a hunger I hadn’t anticipated. It had been so long since Jason and I had been truly intimate, and under this shower in Daryl's house - the house of a stranger - I was reminded of just how much I needed it - from him... Jason... I thought. But for the moment, I had only myself, and I was determined to made the most of it.
My hand descended between my legs, and I was greeted by a familiar heat, a wetness that tells me I wasn't the only one who’s been craving this.
It had been so long since I’ve done this, but I realized just how much I’ve missed it. These touches that only I could give myself, the way I knew my own body better than anyone else ever could.
I let my hand move downwards, felt the gentle curve of my belly. The baby kicked softly, as if responded to my touch, and I couldn't help but smile. I closed my eyes, let the warmth of the water and my own touch envelop me. It was a tender moment, a moment just for me, and I cherished it.
My hand moved to the other side, and once again, my nipple stiffened as I gently teased it. The sensation was both familiar and new, almost as if I had forgotten how much I needed this. My nipples were so sensitive, even the softest touch sent a jolt of warmth through my body. I could still remember when they weren't like this—when they were just another part of me. But in this moment under the shower, they were so much more, anticipating and responding to every gentle caress. I’ve always loved this feeling, the way my body seems to come alive under my touch.
I closed my eyes, let my index finger join in, softly circling and teasing until my nipple stiffened. Jason used to do this often, and I missed those touches, those electrifying tingles that would ripple through me when he touched me like that. It’s different when I do it myself, but still, it feels good.
My left hand drifted slowly across my face, down my neck, and rested on my chest. It felt good, this gentle touch against my skin. I realized how sensitive this area had become in recent weeks. As my thumb brushed lightly over my nipple, a sharp rush of warmth coursed through this tender part of my body.
I pressed my forehead against the cool tiles, feeling the water stream gently over the back of my neck. Jason's words still echoed in my mind: "We’ll make it." But how? There were so many questions I couldn’t seem to answer. And beneath it all lingered an unspoken longing—a quiet, steady yearning for more. For closeness, for security, for a moment when everything felt as simple as it once had been.
That thought pulled me back to reality, and the warmth that had been there for a fleeting moment dissolved again, disappearing into the uncertainty.
But I didn’t know how. What could I possibly do?
There was this thought that kept rising within me. The idea that I could do something too, that I could help carry the weight. Just imagining it sent a slight tingle through me, a feeling that was warm and thrilling, as if a new possibility was opening up. It was almost as if this heat, suddenly rising inside me, drove me, made me feel stronger.
The sound of the water blended with my thoughts. Maybe it was the stress, I told myself. There was so much coming at both of us, the baby, the new apartment... We had no money, and Jason was worried. He carried this burden on his shoulders every day. And me? I wished I could help him.
But we had only just started there, and it felt as though everything was at a standstill. Jason said he had it all under control, but the unease lingered. Perhaps it was just me. Maybe I was overreacting.
As I continued to rub myself, my thoughts turned to our precarious financial situation. I could feel the tension growing between Jason and me, the strain of our new life in this unfamiliar place. I knew he wanted to be strong for both of us, but I also knew that the weight of our responsibilities was bearing down on him. I wanted to help, to lightened the load, but I didn’t know how. I was not used to this, to feeling so helpless, so dependent on someone else.
And then, it hit me. I could work. But then the uncertainty set in. How? How could I possibly help? The warmth faded, just like the tingling in my mind, and I felt myself slowly slipping back into reality.
Was that a noise? I paused, blinked, and listened. Ah, no—it was just my imagination. I was alone here.
I let my fingers find their way again, focused entirely on the sensation of my touch. How far could I take myself? I thought of Jason, of how it was with him. It was nice, but never... complete. I never really reached a climax with him, even though it often came close. Our intimacy was always a bit, how should I say... conservative?
But I didn’t want to dwell on that. Right in my moment of masturbating, it was just about me, about this feeling, about the touch I’ve missed for so long.
I was almost there, a trembling pressure coiling deep inside, my breath caught in my throat. The world had narrowed to the steam, the water, the frantic rhythm of my own hand.
Suddenly, a thought shot through my mind: I was not alone here. Wasn’t there just something? I snapped my eyes open, my heart pounding faster.
A cold draft sliced through the steam. I froze, my eyes snapping open. Daryl stood silhouetted in the doorway, his face a blur of shock through the fogged glass of the shower. “Oh, shit—sorry!” he blurted, his voice loud in the small, tiled space.
For a moment, I’m frozen in place. My hand no longer moved, but it was still resting where it absolutely shouldn’t be. I yanked my hand away and crossed my arms over my chest, turning my back, my heart hammering against my ribs. Had he seen? How much had he seen? The heat on my face was pure shame, a searing flush that had nothing to do with the water.
Daryl smiled awkwardly, but his eyes remained fixed on my body. My face burned with heat, and I was certain I had turned bright red.
He took a few steps back as if he had just walked in and seen nothing. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbled hastily, but his eyes didn’t leave me. I noticed the bulge in his pants, and my mind began to race. Quickly, he backed out of the door and shut it behind him.
It took me a while to gather myself. My thoughts were a chaotic mess. Did he enjoy that? How long was he watching? These questions swirled in my mind, accompanied by a surge of anger. He had no right to invade a moment that was meant to be mine alone.
I told myself I would tell Jason, I thought. But then I hesitated. What would I even say? That his best friend had spied on me? That he had caught me in the middle of... pleasuring myself? No. I shook my head, trying to push the thought away. I couldn’t tell him. It would be too... humiliating. No, I decided. I would keep quiet. No one would ever know.
After finishing my shower and brushing my teeth, I glanced at myself in the mirror. My face was still slightly flushed, but I forced myself to shove the memory of what had just happened aside. Was that wrong? I shook my head again. It had just been a moment of weakness, nothing more.
And then another thought slipped in, unwanted and heavy. What would God have thought of me, sinning like that again? A pang of guilt followed, sharp and familiar.
I dried my hair, pulled on my clothes, and finally opened the bathroom door, stepping back into the fragile uncertainty that seemed to linger in the apartment.
Once dressed, I crossed the living room and made my way into the kitchen.
Olivia stood at the stove, moving quickly, almost restlessly, her red hair a bright streak against the grey morning light filtering through the window. Daryl was pacing between table and counter, phone in hand, checking something, then setting it down again, then picking it back up. Nothing about them was frantic, but there was a constant motion to both of them, an energy that buzzed softly in the room.
Jason leaned against the counter, a mug of tea cupped in his hands. He looked calm, grounded, more settled than I had seen him in weeks.
“There you are,” Olivia said, turning immediately, her smile wide and warm. “We were starting to think you’d disappear back into the bedroom. Did you sleep at all?”
“A little,” I said automatically. My hand drifted to my stomach without thinking, a quiet, familiar reflex. “The bed feels… different.”
Daryl laughed, a quick, bright sound. “If something’s off, that’s on me. I put the bed together. Could be half a centimeter too short on one side.” He grinned. “I’m only mostly joking.”
Jason had already reached for another mug. “Chamomile,” he said gently, pouring the hot water before I could answer. He set it in front of me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I met his eyes for a moment. There was that softness again, that careful attention, almost protective. He didn’t hover, but everything he did carried the quiet intention of looking after me.
The table was set simply: fresh bread rolls, sliced cheese, cold cuts, butter, a small bowl of jam, a plate of cucumber and tomato, soft-boiled eggs resting in their cups. Nothing elaborate, but solid, familiar, grounding.
We sat down together. Olivia shifted in her chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs as she reached for the bread. Daryl leaned forward, then back again, already halfway through an egg while talking. Their movements felt lively, animated, a little too fast for my taste this early in the day, though not unpleasant—just different from my own instinct to conserve energy, to stay still.
“So,” Daryl said, tearing off a piece of bread, “what’s the plan for your first proper Port Townsend day?”
Jason answered immediately, his voice sliding into that focused, organizing rhythm I knew so well. “Groceries first. Stock up properly. Then maybe drive around, get a sense of the neighborhoods. And—” He paused, glancing at me. “We should look for a doctor. Get things established.”
“Not everything has to happen today,” Olivia said, already reaching for the butter, her tone light but steady. “The town isn’t running away. You can take it slow.”
I felt myself exhale a little at that. Their lively energy contrasted with Jason’s constant need to prepare, to secure, to anticipate every possible future. His care was deep, genuine—but it hummed constantly, like a motor that never fully shut off. Sometimes it soothed me. Sometimes it made the quiet worries louder. Money, timing, stability—all of it lived somewhere in the back of my mind, a low static I could never quite silence.
“I just want things settled,” Jason said, a faint edge of defensiveness slipping into his voice. “Before everything shifts.”
His hand brushed mine briefly on the table, grounding, protective—already thinking ahead, even as I focused on the warmth of the tea between my palms.
It was then that Daryl’s phone buzzed. Not a call, but a sharp, insistent alert—high-pitched, unfamiliar. He picked it up at once, his expression shifting as he read. The ease in his face faded, replaced by something measured, attentive.
Olivia noticed immediately. “That doesn’t sound good,” she said, though her voice stayed calm, her spoon resting quietly in her bowl.
Daryl exhaled once before answering. He looked at Jason, then at me. “It’s a state-wide alert,” he said evenly. “Stay-at-home order. Effective immediately.”
The words settled on the table between us. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just heavy.
“A stay-at-home…?” Jason repeated, already tense, his shoulders drawing in.
“Lockdown,” Daryl said. No emphasis, no panic. “The virus. They’re shutting things down. Non-essential businesses, schools.” He scrolled, then added, “They’re asking people to only leave for food, medicine, or essential work.”
Olivia nodded slowly, as if this confirmed something she had already been bracing for. “So it’s here now,” she said quietly.
The kitchen felt different all at once. Smaller. Closed in. The unfinished walls of the house no longer felt temporary, but enclosing. Outside, the trees stood still, indifferent. What had felt like calm isolation minutes ago now carried a sharper edge.
Jason was already on his phone, swiping, reading, shaking his head. “This can’t be right,” he muttered. “Everything’s closed. All of it.”
I barely heard him.
No apartment viewings. No driving around. No settling in slowly.
We had known this was coming. Somewhere deep down, long before the flight, before the packing and the hurried decisions, we had known. That knowledge had been part of why we’d left at all—why we’d crossed an ocean instead of staying put and waiting for doors to close around us.
My hand moved to my stomach, pressing there more firmly now, anchoring myself.
The doctor.
Appointments. Check-ups. A timeline. A place where this would all lead to something solid, planned, safe. The one thing that couldn’t be postponed indefinitely now floated in the same uncertain space as everything else.
Jason still had his phone in his hand when I looked at him and asked, “What does that actually mean now?” I wasn’t thinking in rules or official wording, just trying to understand whether this changed things immediately. He told me it meant most places would close fast, sometimes without notice, and that doctors’ offices would probably limit appointments. While he spoke, he was already unlocking his screen.
I told him, “Call gynecologists,” and then added more carefully, “women only, please.” He nodded right away and said he’d start immediately, that he’d ask whether anyone was even taking new patients, because everything was likely about to become chaotic. When I asked, a little uncertain, “Can’t we just go and sort the insurance later?”, he shook his head and said no, that we’d need the letter first, that without it they wouldn’t see us. He promised to keep checking the mail and to leave messages anyway, just in case.
There wasn’t much else to decide. Just a handful of calls and a letter we had to wait for.
“I need some air,” I said.
Jason hesitated, then nodded. I stood, took the cardigan from the back of the chair, pulled it around my shoulders, and stepped outside into the cool, suspended quiet, still trying to understand what staying at home was supposed to mean now.