6 May, 2020

Co. Wicklow, Ireland

Positive COVID-19 Cases: 22,248

Deaths: 1,375

"And how are you managing the isolation?" Debbie asked, writing something in her notebook. "Are you chatting with friends and keeping up with your family?"

Andrew leaned back a little and scratched his jaw through his thick beard. "Ehm, yeah. I guess so. You know Alex is still here, which is nice." He straightened a picture frame on his desk.

His therapist tilted her head. "You didn't answer my question."

He sighed. "I mean, kind of. They're all busy working and all that. So its not really like they have a lot of time to talk during the days." He shifted in his chair. "I talk to a few of them, but really just one."

"And who's that?" Debbie asked without looking up.

Andrew bit his lip, remembering why he got into therapy. It was supposed to help him, but recently it felt like he was pulling his own teeth out by hand. His therapist was prying far more than he was comfortable with and each week's session felt a little more intrusive. He knew she was doing her job and that therapy wasn't supposed to be comfortable, but sometimes he would have actually preferred to get a public cavity search at Dublin airport than have a session with Dr. Morrisey.

"Cassie," he answered, rolling his fingertip on the cuticle on his thumb nail.

"And how did you meet her?" Debbie asked.

"On Instagram," he said.

Debbie's eyes flitted up from her notebook and Andy could feel her judgement through his laptop screen. "And how do you feel about her?" Her tone was carefully-picked, an attempt to remain neutral. She was failing.

Andrew blinked. "Ehm...I mean we're just friends. We chat and all that, but we're just friends." Why is it so hard to believe that a man and a woman can be friends? he found himself thinking. "She's got a child, so I don't really see anything happening there. I'm not ready for that type of thing."

The older woman nodded. "So she's truly just a friend to you, then? You don't feel anything toward her?"

He shrugged. "I mean, she's really pretty, and we get on really well. I'm not dead," he chuckled lightly. "But I just think we're at two different places in life, you know? I feel bad for her though. She's young - like twenty-five or something. And her son is two or three. Her husband was killed. She recently moved here. I just...I guess I feel a bit protective of her, maybe? Like I want her to be OK?"

"Why do you think you feel that way?" she asked.

"I - I don't know," he explained. "She's been through a lot. She's my friend. I want her to be happy and safe. In another world, maybe we'd have been more than friends?" He was uncertain of his answers and Debbie saw right through it.

"Is it possible that you see a bit of yourself in her? Lost and struggling?" she suggested, lifting an eyebrow.

"No. Not her," he admitted. "Finn, her son. He's old enough to start being aware of her working and being busy all the time. I guess I just see a lot of my childhood - or maybe the start of it."

"So she reminds you of your mom a bit?" Debbie asked.

Andrew thought briefly of the slight thrill he'd gotten the week prior when Cassie accidentally opened her robe in front of him. It wasn't even an immediate attraction, more just he'd spent so long seeing her a certain way that having her reveal so much more of herself - literally - had made him see her differently. And the way he saw her reminded him nothing of his mother, thank fuck.

"No!" he insisted, probably too vehemently. "No, more like I see a struggling parent trying to make things work and I...just want to help make it easier. That's why I offered her to come stay with me."

"Oh?" Debbie's losing battle got larger.

"Not in exchange for anything," he said quickly. "Just...she's a writer. She works from home. Her son's school is closed and he's home, getting more feral by the day since all the playgrounds are closed. I figured I had the space, she needed peace, Finn needs a place to run wild. It works for everyone."

"What do you get out of it, though?" Dr. Morrisey asked. "We've talked about this, Andrew. You're too generous for your own good and it often leads to you feeling burnt out and overextended. So, what are you getting out of offering her to stay with you?"

Andrew sighed. "She said no, anyway. She doesn't want to leave Dublin. So that's it."

"That wasn't my question," she said slowly. "You made the offer. What if she'd taken it? What would you have gotten out of it?"

He looked past his laptop to the bookshelves on the other side of his office. They were stuffed full of books - some of which he'd read cover to cover, but most he'd bought with a misguided hope that he'd be able to read them at some point. It was his own losing battle to slog through.

"I suppose I'd get companionship," he allowed.

"And you're sure there were no romantic intentions attached to your offer?"

"Yes, I'm sure," he answered confidently. "She's really pretty, and I adore her work and I've been a fan of hers for years, but I know I don't have a chance in hell with her. Her husband was a professional footballer in the UK - probably had an incredible body. I'm not her type, I can't compete with that."

"There you go with that negative self-talk, Andrew," she chastened.

"I know, I know!" he groaned. He took a deep breath, glancing at the clock. The session was almost over. "No, there aren't any other intentions besides friendship. I enjoy talking to her. I like getting to know her. That's it."

This seemed to satisfy Debbie because she changed the topic to his negative self-talk. He called it self-deprecating humor, she called it self-sabotage.

They were struggling to meet in the middle.

Therapy had been a new idea he'd had following the Wasteland tour. He'd arrived back home a shell of himself, exhausted and empty, confused as to how he'd gotten that way. He was happy to see his friends, but he had zero energy. Ordinarily, he'd arrive back home tired, but excited to see everyone again and sleep in his own bed and drink from his own coffee mugs again. But he couldn't seem to shake the exhaustion and lack of motivation, even after a few weeks. The idea of therapy was floated by his father and that's when Dr. Debbie Morrisey had been dispatched for house calls by his manager. Now with the pandemic, they'd continued their weekly sessions via video.

After another ten minutes of chatting, she ended the call, bidding him goodbye until their session the following week. Andrew took off his glasses and set them on his desk before running his hands over his face. He needed coffee. Or maybe a beer. Or maybe coffee-flavored beer.

He shook his head at the odd idea and stood, grabbing his glasses on his way out of the room. A storm was blowing through outside and the wind was tossing leaves and bending tree branches as rain lashed down from the sky. It was good weather to curl up on the sofa in his front room in front of the wood stove with a cup of tea and read.

Alex was in the kitchen when Andrew walked in. They nodded to one another.

"Looks like rain, Ted," Alex nodded to the window.

Andrew chuckled at the reference. "Any clue when its supposed to stop?" he asked, putting the kettle on.

Alex shook his head. "Nope."

Andrew opened his mouth to speak but felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He saw Cassie's name on the screen and answered it.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked, switching it to speaker and setting it on the counter as he prepared a mug for tea. "You're on speaker, by the way. Alex is here."

"Hey Cassie," Alex called across the room.

"H-hi," she replied. Her voice sounded tight.

"Everything alright?" he asked. "You sound upset."

He heard her swallow loudly. "I - uh..."

The kettle clicked and he poured boiling water over his tea bag before setting it back on its stand. His ears pricked at the sound of her voice and the tension in it. "Cass? What's going on?" Andrew caught sight of Alex's concerned face as he took the phone off speaker and lifted it to his ear. "Its just me now. What happened? Is everyone OK? How's Finn?"

"Is that offer to come stay with you still open?" she sniffled.

He blinked. "Of course it is. But calm down. Tell me what's wrong."

Cassie took a deep breath before speaking, as if she was trying to calm herself down. "Its just too much. Finn is...I can't deal with him anymore. And its either we find somewhere with space for him to run or I genuinely may just leave him on the side of the road."

"Alright, take a breath," he eased. He turned to lean back against the counter, crossing his arm over his body. He heard a crash on her end of the call followed by a loud cry. "Cassie," he said. He heard muffled voices and the crying stopped after several seconds.

"Finn just jumped off the sofa," she answered with a heavy sigh. "Into the coffee table."

"Is he...is he alright?" he asked.

Alex had crossed the room and was leaning on the island, his fingers laced together. He tilted his head in a question and Andrew shook his own. 

"He's fine," she sighed. "I swear to God, Andrew, this child is going to make me jump into the fucking Liffey."

"What - what about Will's mum? Can she come stay with you to help out?" he suggested.

"The borders are closed," Cassie groaned. "The only way she'd get in would be if she had like a Presidential pardon or something. Wait - can you do that? Can you call him and ask? You know him, right?" she said, her words fumbling together before he could stop her.

He bit back a laugh at her suggestion. He'd met the President once. They were hardly on speaking terms. "I - ehm, no. I can't. Look, why don't I come help out?" he offered.

Alex's eyes went wide and he pushed off his elbows to stand. He shook his head rapidly.

"What about quarantining? And isolation and all that?" she asked. "We aren't supposed to mix households."

"Alex and I haven't left the house for a week beyond walks outside. We've kept our distance from people and we're both clear. Not even a sneeze," Andrew said slowly, trying to calm her frantic tone. "I can come help out. Maybe stay for a few days and if you still want to come back to mine, we can all come back together, OK?"

"I don't have space for both of you to stay here," Cassie replied. "I don't need both of you. I don't even really need you."

"Cassie, you've joked about harming yourself or your child. I'd say we're past the point of not needing help," he said sternly. "You don't have to come back to stay with me, but I'm not comfortable letting you try to handle all of this on your own. Alex doesn't need to come with me if you don't want him to."

"Alex is standing right here," Alex droned. "What's going on?" he asked.

Andrew waved him away impatiently. "Cass, I'm concerned, OK? I just want to make sure you and Finn are both safe." After a second, he spoke again. "I'm happy to help. Its not like I'm doing anything else here."

She sighed. "Fine. I'll...I'll send you my address. You can come stay."

He relaxed slightly, the tension that had been building behind his stomach eased. "Great. I'll - uh...I'll pack up and head over soon. I'll let you know when I leave." He ended the call and looked up at Alex.

"Well? What the fuck is going on?" his friend demanded.

"She's been having difficulty with Finn for like, two weeks or something," Andrew started. "He's not in preschool or whatever, but she'd been doing alright for a bit. Now with all the playgrounds closed I guess they're sort of out of options for him to run around." He picked up his tea and took the tea bag out. "Her mother-in-law can't come over to help because of the borders being locked down, and she's got nobody else. I offered to stay with her for a few days."

Alex waved his arms at the room around them. "And what about me? Are you just leaving me here by myself, then?"

"No, I figured you could come too," Andrew replied, sipping his tea. "You probably need to check on your gaff anyway, right?"

Alex nodded begrudgingly. "This feels like something you should phone the Guards about, not handle yourself. If she's unstable -"

"She's not unstable," Andrew countered. "She's a single mum in a new country without any type of support system. She's trying to keep up with deadlines from her publisher and editors and she's drowning, Alex. We phone the Guards and they'll just make it worse by forcing her to get an evaluation or worse, they'll take Finn away."

"Andrew, there's a fucking pandemic on," Alex said, getting serious. "We aren't supposed to mix households right now, and for good reason. Twenty-two thousand people have this thing. And there's no way of telling who could have it before they start showing symptoms. By the time there are symptoms, its too damn late."

"I'm well aware, Alex," Andrew said patiently, sipping from his mug. The tea had started going tepid. "Look, she's my friend. I care about her. I just want to make sure she's alright."

"You care enough about her to risk getting COVID?" Alex countered. "I swear to God you better get some fucking ass from her."

"Jesus Christ, man! I'd do it for you!" Andrew said, raising his voice uncharacteristically. "If you were in Cassie's position I'd risk it to come help you out. Fucking hell," he grumbled.

"Alright, I'm sorry," Alex said. "I'm just worried. I don't want you catching this thing."

"You can stay in Dublin if you're so worried about coming back here with me. Or you can stay here. I don't really care which one, but I'm going to stay with Cassie for a few days," Andrew said with an air of finality. He dumped his tea in the sink, his interest in it faded. "I need to go pack. I'm leaving in twenty minutes. If you want to come, go get ready."

He left his friend in the kitchen, walking through the house. He took the stairs two at a time and headed for his bedroom. Quick packing had become a skill of his over the years and this was no exception. Even though Cassie sounded calmer when they'd ended the phone call, he was still a little worried. They'd spoken nearly every day and he'd developed a sort of platonic attachment to her.

He quickly tossed a few outfits' worth of clothing into an overnight bag and changed out of his sweatpants. He debated bringing a guitar, but decided against it. If Finn was on a war path, there was no telling what would make it out alive. He'd never met the kid, so he wasn't taking any chances. A dash through his bathroom yielded his toiletries and a few moments later, he was trotting back down the steps. To his surprise, Alex was stood at the kitchen door, his own bag in hand.

"Decided to head back?" Andrew asked, tugging on his rain jacket and grabbing a hat.

Alex nodded. "I'd go mad out here by myself and someone needs to make sure Mr. O'Malley hasn't checked out yet."

Andrew tilted his head in confusion. "I thought we hated Mr. O'Malley?" He took his keys from the bowl on the table.

Alex shrugged. "I've grown attached to the auld wan, as much as I hate him. Besides, if I don't make an appearance, the gobshite'll think he's won."

Andrew chuckled and shoved his feet into his boots, lacing them up. "I'll drop you at yours and then head over to Cassie's. She's in Smithfield, so if you need something I'll be close."

"Is your mum checking in when you're gone? Does she know you're going somewhere?" his friend asked, following him down the narrow hallway to the door.

"I'll let her know when she phones tonight," Andrew explained. "Ready?" he asked, opening the door. Rain plummeted from the sky. "After you!" he exclaimed.

After a mad dash to his SUV, Andrew began the drive into Dublin. It was a trip he used to make more frequently on the train when he was younger. These days he only went into the city to do occasional shopping, for meetings with his label staff, or to visit friends. Farmland faded into clusters of houses, which morphed into entire neighborhoods as he drove down the motorway. The rain had let up slightly by the time they reached the outer edges of Dublin - in record time, too.

The streets were nearly empty, save for a few lorries and occasional cars puttering around the city. Sidewalks were mostly barren and people crossed the street to avoid coming face to face with others. Shops were open, but ghost towns. Parks were closed off and guards patrolled the streets with masks over their faces. It looked like a scene from a post-apocalyptic film.

Andrew came to a stop in front of Alex's building and leaned over to hug his friend. "I'll probably head back on Sunday. Stay safe. Let me know if you need anything."

Alex nodded and patted him on the back. "I'll be fine. I'm looking forward to harassing O'Malley again. Maybe the fucker will have a heart attack when he realizes I'm back."

Andrew chuckled at his friend's dark humor and watched his friend dash through the rain to his front door. He gave a wave before disappearing into the building. A honk from behind him made him jump and he shifted the car into drive.

Cassie's instructions took him down a narrow alley behind a row of tall, narrow brick buildings. Cars were parked behind fences and he pulled into the empty spot next to her dark green Range Rover. Lights twinkled from behind the windows on the first and second floors and he texted her that he'd arrived, not wanting to stand in the rain and wait. He slid the mask over his face and watched the back door.

After a moment, he saw Cassie standing in the open doorway on the ground floor. He got out and took his things from the back seat and jogged across the concrete to the door. She stepped back to allow him space to come inside, shutting the door after him.

"Hi," he said, setting his bag down .

Cold rain drops were making their way down his back, chilling him. His voice was muffled by the mask. He noticed she wasn't wearing one.

"Hi," she said.

Her blonde hair was in a messy bun on the top of her head and she had on a cardigan over a t-shirt and a pair of leggings. Thick blue socks covered her feet. She wrapped the cardigan around herself, hugging her arms to her body. She had dark circles under her eyes and he wondered when she'd last gotten any significant sleep. Finn was nowhere to be found. There was an air of distractedness about her and he wondered if it was sleep deprivation or something else.

"Did you find us alright?" she asked, locking the door.

"Ehm, yeah. It was basically dead out there," he replied, shrugging out of his jacket. "Made pretty good time. I dropped Alex off at his on the way." He noticed a shoe rack with several pairs of muddy shoes and took it as a sign that his own should join them. "Should I?" he asked, pointing at it.

"Oh, yeah, if you don't mind," she said with a weak smile.

He sat in the wooden spindle chair in the corner and slipped his shoes off, leaving them on the rubber mat next to a pair of brightly colored Thomas the Tank Engine shoes. They lit up when his own shoes thumped down next to them. The chair creaked slightly when he stood.

"Everything's just upstairs," she said softly. "Just through there." She gestured to another open door that led into a long, narrow hallway.

He followed her, using the opportunity to take in his surroundings. The corridor was narrow, lined with paneling. The dark green walls were mostly bare and the space felt slightly claustrophobic. She led him around a small curve and he saw the staircase leading up to the first floor as well as the front door that opened onto the street outside. Light poured in from the opaque glass in the front door, but it wasn't enough to fully illuminate the dark space.

The wooden staircase creaked slightly as he followed Cassie up the stairs. They were obviously newer to the house and when they emerged into the first floor, he saw the full extent of the renovations.

"This is sort of the mud room. You can hang your coat in here," she said, pointing to a built-in shelving unit with hangers on a closet rod. A large window showed an empty balcony that overlooked the back parking area.

"Sure," he mumbled. He took a hanger and slid his jacket on before replacing it next to the others on the rod.

"There's a powder room just there," she pointed to a mostly-closed door. "Back behind here is the dining room," she said, sidestepping him.

He followed her down a narrow corridor space, the staircase on one side and a series of floor-to-ceiling shelves on the other. The bookshelves were filled with various display items and through them he saw a dining table with chairs. Another window allowed more light into the room. The kitchen opened up in front of him at the end of the corridor, with stainless steel appliances and grey cabinets that stretched to the high ceilings.

"Kitchen, obviously," she sighed, waving her hand out dismissively. "Don't mind the mess. I'll, uh, I'll get to it as soon as I can."

It was then that he saw that the piles of dishes in the sink had overflowed onto the white granite counter tops. "Oh, don't worry about it. I can handle that if you need me to," he said, tearing his eyes away from the stack of brightly-colored plates and bowls that could only belong to a toddler. His fingers twitched as the need to bring order to the chaos came upon him.

"I don't -," she started, but caught herself. "Please don't worry about cleaning anything. You're a guest. Its not your job."

"Cass, I'm here to help you," he reminded her, shifting his bag from one hand to the other. "If you need me to do the washing up, I'll do it."

She caught notice of his bag in his hand and it was though something clicked in her brain. "Let me show you to your room," she said, gesturing for him to follow her up the stairs once more.

At the top of the stairs, they were greeted by yet another balcony view, this one looking out further. The small space was dedicated to a myriad of children's toys, most of which were strewn across the floor and small table that sat in the middle of the space. Another long narrow hallway ended in a pair of French double doors that were open to a living room. Andrew could hear a children's show playing on the TV. Cassie stopped short of the large space and opened a door to his right.

"This is the guest room. You've got your own bathroom, though its also shared with this floor, so make sure you lock both doors when you're using it," Cassie instructed.

She stepped into the room and he followed. It was on the small side, but still large enough for a queen sized bed. Two night stands flanked either side of it and he could see a bathroom at the other end. A closet with sliding doors took up the other wall and he could see into the alley below through the window. The white curtains had been drawn back and the blinds raised, begging light to come in despite the storm outside. He set his bag on the foot of the bed and turned to face her, hands in his jeans pockets.

"You should have fresh towels and all that in the closet," she added.

He stopped her as she turned back toward the door, his hand on her arm. He felt her stiffen slightly and he withdrew, tucking it back into his pocket. He wondered if he'd overstepped by coming.

"I just...I'm...Cassie, I can go if you don't want me here," he said softly. "I haven't met Finn yet. He doesn't even know I'm here."

"I already told him you were coming," she sighed. At his confused look she rolled her eyes. "Well it would be really weird for you to just rock up here when we haven't seen another human in the flesh for weeks, wouldn't it?" she asked. "He's...he'll be happy to meet you."

Andrew nodded and moved to take off his mask, casting her a questioning look as he did so. She nodded and he took it off, wiping his nose and sniffling slightly. He dropped it on the bed next to his bag.

"When was the last time you slept?" he asked tentatively.

She brushed his question off. "I'm fine. Come on," she gestured for him to follow her yet again.

He stepped into the living room and stood awkwardly just inside the doorway as Cassie walked around the sectional sofa and knelt in front of a small blonde child. Andrew glanced around the room, noting the large flat screen over the fireplace and the wet bar on the back wall. Long windows looked out on the street below and were flanked by rich blue curtains. A plush grey rug sat underneath the cream-colored sofa and extended the full length of the room.

"Finn, come meet Mama's friend, Andrew," Cassie said, taking the child by the hand and leading him over. "Andrew, this is Finn."

The toddler gazed up at him with large blue eyes that matched Cassie's and mouth popped open in a surprised 'O'. Andrew knelt down to Finn's level and extended his hand.

"Hi Finn. I'm Andrew," he said with a smile. "Nice to meet you."

Finn regarded Andrew's hand skeptically before placing his smaller one in it. "Hi."

"Remember how Mum said Andy was going to stay with us for a few days so he could play with you while she got some work done?" Cassie said, resting her hand on top of Finn's long blonde curls. Finn nodded, wide-eyed. "You can show him all of your toys."

"You're weally tall," Finn giggled. "I bet you're as tall as a twee."

Andrew stood up and smiled at the child's innocence. "I'm as tall as some trees, yeah. You're right."

Cassie checked her phone and looked at Finn. "Alright, bud. Its time for your nap. Andrew will still be here when you wake up, okay? You can play with him then," she said.

Andrew stepped back as she hoisted the toddler onto her hip and went upstairs. He turned to the living room and picked up the remote, clicking the TV off. The room was a tip - toys spilled out of plastic bins and onto the floor, a basket of clothes sat in an armchair, the sofa had several blankets wadded up across mashed-down pillows, and children's dishes piled up on the wet bar counter top.

He picked up the blankets and folded them neatly before draping them over the back of the sofa. Then he took the dishes and made his way down to the kitchen. He opened the dishwasher and unloaded the clean things, checking cabinets to see where they went. He loaded up as much as he could and started a new cycle. Andrew squirted some Fairy onto a sponge and squeezed it repeatedly until the green liquid disappeared into crackling white suds.

"You don't have to do that," Cassie said.

He looked up from the pot he'd been scrubbing. "Oh - its fine. I actually enjoy washing up," he said, giving her an easy smile. "Its one of those mindless chores you can tune out with, you know?"

She crossed the room to a closed door. He saw a huge pile of laundry on the floor when she opened it.

"You should get some sleep," he called over the tap. He heard the washing machine whir to life and a moment later, she reappeared, shutting the door after herself.

"I have a - a deadline," she said, rubbing her face. "When that beeps, will you come get me?" she asked without giving him a second glance.

Andrew focused on the washing up for what felt like three hours. His hands turned pruney and his back began to ache from hunching over the sink. When the washing machine beeped, he moved the load over to the dryer and started a new one of Finn's clothes, leaving Cassie's dirty ones on the floor. He picked up the living room and tried to put Finn's toys back where they belonged, guessing the whole time.

Cassie only emerged with Finn to give him a snack and plant him in front of the TV, telling Andrew she'd be back down to get dinner started. Andrew hovered awkwardly in the doorway to the living room, watching as Finn's eyes glazed over whilst he stared at an animated pink pig on the screen. He tucked his hands into his jeans as he walked over and sat on the other end of the sofa.

"What are we watching?" he asked. The pink pig trotted across the screen.

"Peppa Pig," Finn replied. He chewed on an apple slice loudly as he shifted on the sofa, drawing his feet up under himself.

"What's it about?"

"See's a pig," Finn said, as though it was obvious. "See and her fwends do stuff."

"Uh huh," Andrew said slowly, trying to hide his confusion. "What...ehm...what do you usually do when Mum's working?" he asked, watching the screen as a rabbit hopped across the screen.

Finn stood up and held out his hands as though he were announcing a proclamation over his dominion. "This," he giggled. The bowl he was holding tilted, dropping apple slices on the floor. "Oops," he muttered. His small features began to crumple up.

"Its - its OK. We'll just clean them up, right?" Andrew suggested quickly. "You want to help me?"

Finn climbed carefully down from the sofa and cautiously squatted next to Andy, picking up the soiled apple slices and putting them back in the bowl. When the job was done, Andrew took the toddler back to the kitchen to put the bowl on the counter.

"Are you still hungry?" he asked Finn. The little boy nodded, his golden curls bouncing. "What else do you want to eat?"

Finn toddled over to a floor-to-ceiling cabinet and pulled the door open, revealing several shelves stocked with all manner of pantry staples. "Fish," he said, pointing to a large carton with a picture of an orange fish on it. He recognized it from his time in America. Gretchen, his last tour manager used to keep packs of them in the bus's kitchen for late-night snacking between stops.

Andrew took the container from the shelf and opened the top. The smell of artificial cheese wafted to his nose and made his mouth water. He took another bowl from the drying rack and emptied a few crackers into it before giving it back to Finn. On a whim, he took a few from the container before resealing it and putting it away.

He found Finn back on the sofa, legs drawn up to his chest, eyes glazed over as he stared at the TV screen. He'd never been great with kids - mostly because he had no idea what to do with them. His friends were all having them now, but none of them were as old as Finn. Andrew sat awkwardly on the end of the sofa and looked at the toddler again.

"What if we...do you have a favorite toy?" he asked. Seeing Finn glued to the television made him feel bad, like he was enabling him to melt his brain. "Or a book? We could read." Suddenly he wished he'd brought his guitar.

Finn dragged his eyes from the screen, settling them on Andrew. "Are you Mama's fwend?" he asked.

"Uh - I...yeah," Andrew stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm her friend."

"She talked about you before," Finn continued, stretching his legs out in front of him and sliding down the sofa to the floor. "She - she said dat you - you live way out in - in the countwyside. And dat you have a pool!"

Andrew chuckled. "I do. I have a pool and a lot of space outside to run around in." He watched as Finn climbed back up to the sofa.

"Mama said - she said we were going to, to come stay - stay with you," Finn continued, his words broken up by his movements on the sofa. Now he was standing, leaning against the sofa's back. He leaned back as he looked over and Andrew felt his heart skip a few times as the little boy got closer and closer to toppling over the back, head-first. "C-can I swim in you-your pool?" Finn asked, bouncing back and forth against the sofa.

Andrew chuckled. "That'll be up to your mum. Can you swim?" he asked.

"No," Finn plopped down onto the cushion, making the whole sofa bounce. "But Mama took me to the pool one time when, when we first got hewe. I weally woved it."

Andrew listened intently as Finn detailed all the things they did that day in extreme animation.

"And - and then, I jumped in, wiv, wiv a big spwash! Wike dis!" Finn jumped off the sofa and landed on the floor with a thump. "Pow!"

Andrew smiled and watched as Finn took off around the room, making splashing noises as he dashed around the sofa. He was starting to see what Cassie had meant, that Finn was energetic and needed exercise. Running laps around the sofa wasn't enough. Still, he was at a loss as to how to control the child, so he just let it happen, watching like a hawk and hoping Finn didn't launch himself into any sharp corners.

"And - and den, den we went down a big swide!" Finn said, stopping suddenly in front of Andrew. "Like dis!" The toddler held out his hand and mimed going down a long decline. "And we went spwash! Wight into da water."

"Wow! That sounds wild!" Andrew exclaimed, putting on a tone of amazement for the toddler's benefit, like he'd seen others do.

"Do you ever, ever go swimming?" Finn asked, climbing back onto the sofa.

"I do," Andrew replied. "In my pool. But do you know something? I like going swimming in the ocean more."

The little boy's bright blue eyes widened. "Da ocean?!" he exclaimed in disbelief. "Weally?"

Andrew smiled, widening his eyes. "Yeah. With the waves and everything. Its really cold though."

"I could do it!" Finn grinned. "I'm stwong. Mama say, she says I'm da stwongest kid ever." He puffed his chest out proudly.

"Are you?" Andrew asked, relaxing slightly.

Finn seemed easy enough to manage, when you could give him your attention. But he could see how Cassie was struggling. There was no way she could write and focus on him at the same time. Certainly not when he was prone to episodes of mad dashing around the house in excitement.

For the next two hours, Finn regaled Andrew with stories of things he'd done. He could see that he was an incredibly smart and advanced child, even with his own limited understanding of what that meant or looked like. But he knew there were very few almost-three-year-olds who could speak so well, even with the mispronunciations. He found it endearing. By the time Cassie came down, the rain had stopped, but clouds hung heavily in the sky, threatening to drop more.

"Mama, I'm hungwy," Finn whined as she sat next to him on the sofa. "When's dinner?"

Cassie sighed heavily and leaned her head back. "I - I'm not sure, Bug. Mama just needs five minutes of nothing before her eyes fall out of her head." She rested her head on the back of the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

Finn turned toward Andrew with raised eyebrows.

"I can cook something," Andrew offered. Cassie turned her head to face him. "I'm sure I could find something."

"Don't, Andrew. I can cook," she insisted, lifting her head. "Just give me a minute and I'll get started."

"Cass, its fine. Relax," he said, standing. "I've got it."

She gave him a grateful smile as he left the room.

Andrew moved through the kitchen, putting dishes away and clearing space on the counter to work. He entered a trance, chopping vegetables with military precision and boiling water for pasta. After he'd found a packet of spaghetti noodles in the pantry and the veg in the fridge, he went on autopilot. Soon enough, the kitchen was filled with the smell of cooking tomato sauce and garlic.

"It smells great, Andrew," Cassie said, startling him.

He turned from the stove and saw her sitting at the island, elbows resting on the granite. "Oh - ehm, thanks. Just spaghetti. I figured it was probably something Finn'd eat."

"He eats nearly anything, thankfully," she replied. "Is that - are you making homemade pasta sauce?" she asked, looking over his shoulder at the stove.

He smiled and reached for a spoon, dipping it into the sauce and holding it out to her. "Its a recipe I picked up from one of my bandmates on my first tour."

"Fuck me!" she exclaimed, looking at him in surprise. "That's fucking fantastic, Andrew."

He chuckled. "I'm glad you like it. I've been perfecting it with Alex's help since the pandemic started.

"If the music thing ever goes tits up, you could start selling your own pasta sauce," she remarked, licking her lips.

He took the spoon from her and put it in the dishwasher. "I'll keep that in mind if I want a career change."

"Thank you for cleaning everything up," she added. "I'm so embarrassed that it was even looking like that." She dragged her fingers through her hair. "I swear we don't live like this all the time."

"Don't be," he assured her. "I'm just glad I could help. I've felt so...powerless the last couple of weeks as things have gotten worse every day. I'm happy I could help someone." He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh - the, ehm, I got a few loads of washing done, too."

Cassie's mouth fell open in surprise. "You...you're magic."

Andrew laughed. "Don't worry - I didn't touch any of yours. But Finn will at least have clean things." He recalled several pairs of Cassie's underwear on top of the pile. "I mean, I can do it, if you want. I just didn't know how - which cycle to use."

"No, don't worry about it. You've done enough," she assured him. "Do you need any help?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Its almost done. Go relax with Finn."

***

"No I can't come by tomorrow and drop it off Mum," Andrew said, running his hand through his hair. "I'm not at home."

His mother's eyes widened. "What do you mean you're not at home, Andrew?!" she very nearly shrieked.

He winced as her voice rose an octave and several decibels. "Mum, just breathe. I can explain, alright?" He waited for her to relax slightly before continuing. "I'm at a friend's in Dublin. Everything's fine."

"Alex's?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Cassie's."

"Cassie? Cassie who?"

"D'you remember I told you about her at Easter?" he reminded her. "She's the author who lives in Dublin? We'd been talking?" He waited as recognition dawned on her face. "She has a son."

"Oh yes! Cassandra Adler," Raine replied. "Why is God's name are you at hers right now?"

He sighed and shifted on the sofa. "She's...she's been struggling a lot in the last few weeks. She's got deadlines and other things to deal with, but she doesn't have any childcare for Finn," he explained. "This morning she phoned me sobbing and seemed really...out of it. Like she's reached the end of her rope, you know?" He bit his lip, wondering how much he should share with her. "Anyway, I got a little concerned, so I came by her place. Told her I'd stay for a few days."

His mother nodded, pensive. "Well, how is she now? Better?"

Andrew shrugged. "I dunno. I mostly spent the day with Finn. She was working." Just then, Cassie walked behind him, aiming to pick up a few of Finn's toys. "Oh - Cass, this is my mum."

Cassie paused in surprise, eyes wide. "Oh - I - hi," she stammered, clearly embarrassed by his sudden introduction of her. She clutched several books to her chest and ducked down slightly behind the sofa in an attempt to hide that she wasn't wearing much.

"Hello," his mother replied. "How are you keeping?"

Cassie smiled politely. "Much better now Andrew's here," she said.

"How's your little one? Finn, was it?"

Cassie nodded, tucking a loose chunk of blonde hair behind her ear. "He's struggling. He misses his friends. But we're both still alive, so I guess there's that," she said, attempting a weak joke. "I'm - um, I'll leave you to it, Andrew," she told him, ducking her head. "It was nice to meet you!" she said quickly, stepping away abruptly.

"She's not normally like that," he apologized. "I think I caught her at a bad time."

"I can imagine," Raine sighed. "Being a single parent is hard enough. I don't know how I'd do if I had to deal with you both and Dad at the same time if this pandemic happened when you were younger. I'd probably have jumped into the Liffey by now."

He scoffed a small laugh. "How's Dad?"

"See for yourself," Raine said, tilting the camera to show her husband lounging on the other end of the sofa, blissfully asleep. "Up til I called you, he was snoring like a chainsaw."

Andrew smiled, allowing himself a small moment of happiness. "And you? How are you? Is the studio still closed?"

Raine nodded. "Even if it were open, I wouldn't go."

Andrew didn't ask for her to elaborate. He knew that leaving the house at all put his father at risk. His mum was terrified of anything happening to him. He cleared his throat and shoved his glasses back up his nose. "Right, well, I'm going to be here for a few days and then I think we're all heading back to mine for a bit."

"She's moving in with you?" his mother asked, confused.

"Ehm, no. Just staying for a bit, I think," he explained. "I told her she could bring Finn to get him some fresh air and space to run, you know? All the parks are closed in the city so he doesn't have anywhere to play."

"That's nice of you," she commented.

He shrugged. "Honestly, if I didn't offer it, I think Cass would be chucking herself in the Liffey."

"You're a good man, Andrew," she sighed. "Just stay safe, please."

He nodded. "I know Mum. I will."

She ended the call and he got up from the sofa, stretching his arms over his head with a groan. The house was silent, except for the distant noise of dishes clanking together in the kitchen downstairs. Whilst Cassie put Finn to bed, he'd done his best to tidy from dinner. The living room was more or less put back together, too.

Andrew passed a photo on the wall - presumably of Cassie and Will on their wedding day. She was in a flowing white dress and he was in a full three-piece suit. Cassie had flowers in her hair and they were smiling at each other, the picture of happiness and life and limitless possibilities. If he didn't know any better, Andrew would have thought it was a photo from a bridal magazine. His heart hurt slightly to know what had happened mere months after this photo was taken. He straightened the frame against the wall and made his way to the kitchen to check in with Cassie. She was unloading the dishwasher and putting dishes back in the cupboards.

"Sorry about that," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. "If I'd known you were coming in I'd have said something."

"Its fine," she replied, not looking at him.

"Its just that she phoned and I couldn't ignore it because I was supposed to drop some things at theirs tomorrow," he continued. "And she'd worry otherwise."

Cassie turned and faced him deliberately. "Its fine, Andrew."

She returned to putting away dishes and he stood in the doorway awkwardly. When she was finished, she pulled a wine glass and a crystal tumbler from a high shelf, setting them on the island. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out an open bottle of red wine.

"Behind you," she nodded over his shoulder. "Second shelf from the top. That's where the booze is," she explained. "Assuming you don't want any wine," she added, setting the bottle down. A tiny droplet of deep burgundy landed on the granite.

Andrew turned and found the shelf, reaching up and pulling out a bottle of whiskey. He saw Cassie stiffen slightly as he poured the amber liquid into the tumbler. "What?"

She shook her head slightly, picking up her glass. "That was Will's favorite," she remarked.

Andrew winced and moved away from the counter. "I - I'm so sorry. I should - "

"No, please. Its fine," she assured him. "I don't like it."

"Are you sure? I'm so sorry," he apologized, feeling more self-conscious than he had in months.

"Well its not like we can put it back in the bottle," she said pointedly. "Andrew, its fine. He would have wanted to you to have it anyway."

He nodded slowly and picked up his glass. "Slainte," he said, tapping her glass with his before taking a sip.

The liquid was smooth as it went down, leaving a slight burn and woody taste in its aftermath. He swirled it in the glass, the amber liquid turning golden in the light, and swirling behind the crystal.

"This is fantastic," Andrew remarked, setting the glass back on the counter. "Will had excellent taste."

Cassie smiled slightly and nodded. "He did. I'm glad you like it." She took another sip of her wine. "You can take the bottle back with you, if you like."

"Oh, I couldn't do that," he said quickly. "It was his. I'm sure you - "

"I don't drink it, Andrew. Its moved from house to house and just sat on the shelf," she insisted. "I'd hate to see it go bad."

Andrew twisted his glass around by the rim and looked away, the thought of taking something that belonged to her late husband eating away at him. Still it was an excellent whiskey and very high quality. It would be a shame to waste it.

Cassie took her bottle and began to walk up the stairs. She looked over her shoulder, four steps up. "Well, come on. I've been drinking alone for the past couple months. Are you going to make me continue that trend?" she asked pointedly. She'd turned off the lights to the kitchen as she left and he was plunged into darkness.

He followed her upstairs to the front room. The TV was off and silence filled the room for the first time since he'd arrived. The lights had been dimmed slightly, casting everything in a warm glow. He could see the buildings across the river, their windows lit up and glittering through the rain drops sliding down the glass. He settled on one end of the sofa, tucking one leg underneath himself to face her as she sat on the opposite side.

"Is this normally what your evenings look like?" he asked, trying to fill the silence. A lorry boomed past on the street below.

Cassie shrugged. "Lately, yeah." She took a long sip of wine.

A confession had been gnawing at the back of his throat since he'd come into her home and the alcohol was loosening his tongue. "So...I feel like I need to tell you something," he said slowly.

This is going to be a disaster, he thought. She's going to hate me.

Cassie looked at him expectantly over her glass. He could see dark circles under her eyes.

He took a deep breath and plowed on. "I've sort of...I looked up Will's trial," he said slowly.

Cassie stiffened and looked away from him. He saw the muscles in her jaw clench tightly as she seemed to bite back words from her lips.

"I was curious," he admitted. His fingers gripped the tumbler so tightly he feared it may break. He leaned forward and placed the glass on the coffee table. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

"You didn't do anything that millions of people haven't already done," she sighed as she looked back at him. He watched her refill her wine glass a bit. "You don't have to apologize."

"I do, though," he continued. "Its an invasion of privacy." The images from the evidence flashed behind his eyes. "Nobody should have to live like that, with those things out there for anyone to see. Or hear."

Her eyes flicked to him at that, but she didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry that your privacy - and Will's - was so broken," Andrew told her. "It must be so hard to live with that. On top of everything else."

She shrugged. "Its why I moved us."

"Did you think about going back to Ohio? To be with your family?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not really. Ohio has its own skeletons waiting for me."

Silence fell between them as he took another sip from his glass. "What was he like, Will?" he asked.

A sad smile spread across Cassie's face, but it wasn't enough to chase away the darkness. "He was sweet and funny. Kind. I was drawn to him because of his generosity. But he was also insanely competitive and single-minded at times," she chuckled. "To the point where I genuinely thought he liked football more than me."

Andrew allowed himself to smile. "I enjoy a good game of football, but I don't think I could ever put it above a relationship. I suppose I do put music over relationships, though, so I can understand that."

She shrugged. "He'd been doing it years before we met. It was something I knew going in. In a way, it worked out for me. He kept himself busy whilst I did my own thing," she said. "Happy little accident and all that."

The phrase triggered something in his mind, a recognition. "I've heard that phrase before. Happy little accident," he said, trying to sift through his brain for the source.

"Bob Ross," Cassie answered. "He was this American painter in the eighties on public television. His big claim to fame was doing these easy-to-follow painting tutorials. His whole schtick was that anyone could paint and nobody ever made mistakes, just 'happy little accidents'."

"Right," Andrew nodded as the ideas connected in his mind. "I remember seeing a bunch of people wearing t-shirts with that on them on my last tour. He's got a cult following, like."

She drained her glass. "Yeah. Sort of like a feel-good thing. Gratitude and all that."

"Is that how you look at things, then? That there are no mistakes, just happy little accidents?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. I've made plenty of mistakes. And that's what they were: mistakes." He watched as she stood, leaving her glass on the wet bar at the back of the room. She wrapped her robe tighter around her body. "I guess I should head to bed." She stopped at the archway and turned back to him. "Thank you for coming, Andrew. You didn't have to."

He shook his head. "I'd have done it for any of my friends." He downed the last of his drink. "Get some rest. We'll talk more tomorrow."

He watched as she walked up the stairs to the next floor. The alcohol had dulled his senses slightly and he yawned, feeling tiredness catching up to him. So he stood and stretched, reaching his arms over his head before walking down the corridor to his bedroom and collapsing onto the bed.