Songs for the End of the World - Saleema Nawaz Page 0,96

midst of all the life-and-death situations he now saw daily on the job, he thought about them more than he’d expected. There were profound bonds of all kinds and of every sort, but parents and children, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives—they were the only ones acknowledged by the hospital in a time of crisis. This was the small circle of people who could visit a dying patient in isolation, who could legally accept the perilous risks of love and family.

“Hi guys,” he said, picking up. His parents never called him separately, only at the same time on different extensions of the landline in the house where he’d grown up, as though he were a group project for which they were each determined to do exactly half of the work.

“We’re worried about you, Ell,” said Gretchen, once they had dispensed with greetings. Talking about ARAMIS no longer required a preamble. “It must be a living nightmare in the city.”

“Anytime you want to come home,” said Frank.

“Thanks, Dad.”

With Sarah away, the three of them had been talking more than they had in years. She’d thrown the family balance into disarray, and now they were tilting into new angles and relations to one another. Though his parents had at first been alarmed by the departure of his sister and nephew on an ocean voyage with the writer and self-styled pandemic expert Owen Grant, their opposition was softening with each passing day of rising death tolls on land.

“I’ll admit it now,” said Gretchen. “I’m relieved they’re out of harm’s way.”

“I just hope she knows what she’s getting herself into,” said Frank. “We’re sure this isn’t another hippie brainwashing group?” It was a point he raised almost every time they spoke.

“Sarah’s the one who got herself and Noah on that boat,” Elliot repeated. “It was all her idea.”

“Well, Owen Grant is a decent writer,” said Gretchen, as though making a concession. “Even if he’s a total cad. He was a perfect monster to Rachel. I don’t know how she’ll ever trust anyone again.”

“I just hope he’s a decent sailor,” said Elliot.

“Sarah can handle herself,” said Gretchen. “Did you see the new photo? Captain Noah?”

“Yes, he looks like a natural,” said Elliot.

Sarah had put them all on the same group email to share photos of her son on the boat, and his parents called after every new message to discuss Noah as if he were a celebrity in whom they shared a common interest. In the latest photo, Elliot’s nephew was standing at the helm of Buona Fortuna, one hand on the wheel.

“So she’s helping this fellow Owen write his weblog or whatever,” said Frank, once again retreading previous conversational territory. “Though I can’t figure out why anyone wants to hear what he has to say about viruses.”

“Everyone’s an expert these days,” said Gretchen, sighing. “Have you seen Keelan on television, Elliot? He’s been on all the networks, talking up a storm about rule utilitarianism and crisis management. The department is all in an uproar about it. Half of us are appalled and the rest are jealous.” She sniffed. “But at least he’s not a novelist.”

“He might as well be,” said Frank. “It’s all very speculative.”

“Is he saying anything so very wrong?” asked Elliot.

“What isn’t he saying?” countered his father. “He’ll talk to anyone about anything.”

“The problem,” said Gretchen, “is that he’s advocating for a calm and collected acceptance of additional policing, instead of warning against the encroachment of civil liberties. First it’s voluntary quarantining, then it’ll be mandatory. Then they’ll be shooting people who step out of line. That’s the real danger.”

In his twenties, Elliot would have taken his mother’s remark as a personal affront, but now he was merely irritated, if not surprised, by her vehemence. “Mom, that’s completely unfair.”

Frank made a thoughtful sound. “Is it possible Keelan takes a less dim view of human nature than you do, dear?”

“That’s funny, coming from you,” Gretchen snapped back. “People are fine. But the state always works to preserve its own authority. First through economic factors, then through violence.”

Elliot knew his mother was trying to pull him into the fray, but he didn’t feel up to it and said his goodbyes. He had a feeling his parents would be continuing the conversation without him.

He felt grateful for their new routine. Elliot had seen more than a few stories on the news about estranged families reuniting during the pandemic crisis. Adopted children seeking out their birth parents. Birth parents reaching out to their children. Runaways coming