Let Me Tell You About My Soul Mate

Out of the darkness comes a sliver of light. In the midst of a pandemic, when I dream of a twelve pack of toilet paper instead of an outdoor kitchen, when I look at my dog after he sneezes the way Clarissa looked at Hannibal Lecter, when I am trimming my own hair with kitchen shears, I have found what most people look for their entire lives. I have found my person, the ying to my yang, the beginning to my end. I’ve found my soul mate— his name?  Dr. Anthony Fauci.

I can already picture our life together. We start each day with him listening to my lungs before heading to the kitchen for an intimate breakfast. “All clear honey,” he says. “Thank you Dr. Anthony Fauci, Nation’s Top Disease Expert,” I reply. In the kitchen he makes me one of his famous cappuccinos with almond milk. He really prefers that I stay away from dairy. “Soy?” I ask. “No honey, almond. Trust me on this one.”

“Of course I trust you Dr. Anthony Fauci, Nations Top Disease Expert!”

After our breakfast of steel cut oats and boysenberries he heads into the bedroom to get dressed before President Trump swings by to pick him up. I feel a bit concerned. He’s run down, tired. The entire world is counting on my Dr. Anthony Fauci, Nation’s Top Disease Expert to lead us through the corona pandemic. I know just the thing, a nice steaming bowl of homemade chili tonite. He’ll be exhausted after the afternoon press conference where he’ll place his hands over the president’s mouth and say, “Oh Don, you kill me,” with a chuckle.

In the evening we’ll give each other COVID 19 tests. I know it’s not fair that me and my soul mate Dr. Anthony Fauci, Nation’s Top Disease Expert, have the tests in our bathroom drawer but he’s in charge of America right now. We have to keep him healthy and as you all know behind every man is a woman who should really be tested for the corona virus on a daily basis. You will see her looming there behind him because she is taller than him and outweighs him by a good fifty pounds. 

After that, we’ll get on my laptop so I can ZOOM with all my friends. Once we are all tuned in I’ll start the conversation, “Hi guys! Just sitting here with my soul mate, Dr. Anthony Fauci, Nations’s Top Disease Expert! You did hear me say DOCTOR right? 

“Hi everyone,” Dr. Anthony Fauci Nation’s Top Disease Expert will say and then he’ll answer all the important questions my friends have:

“ Is it safer for now to do a regular manicure instead of the dip powder, at the nail salon?”

“ I should be okay if I hold my breath during my lip wax right?
“My colorist is quarantined with her nineteen year old who just returned from spring break in Australia. She’s gonna do my hair in the car, I’m good right?”

After we hang up he’ll say “Wow, your friends are really nice intelligent women. No wonder you can’t give up your weekly girls night. I’m glad you’re being safe and having all twelve of them over here instead of going out. And they’re all bringing a homemade appetizer? I’m so looking forward to it!”

The weekend comes and the poor man can barely talk, his voice is crackly and dry and he has deep lines under his eyes. I make a call to the person in charge of all the news in the world and tell him, “I’m very sorry, Dr. Anthony Fauci, Nation’s Top Disease Expert will be taking the weekend off. He needs rest.”

Then, he and I will curl up on the couch and binge watch Flea Bag while polishing off two bags of organic Veggie Straws with pink Himalayan salt.

Later, we’ll head to the bedroom where he will put on gloves and a face mask. After he performs a quick breast exam and body scan for weird moles, we’ll climb into bed, and he’ll read all the new discoveries to me from literature that only Dr. Anthony Fauci, Nation’s Top Disease Expert, has privy to. I will reach over to give him a quick hug and he will turn to me and say, “Six feet. Social distance. Come on hon, we’ve been over this.”

Okay. Honestly? This never happened. It’s just this thing I do. I’ve been down this road before when what I wanted most in the world was to be married to my pediatrician. Oh to have had him there beside me during strep throat season when at 2 am I would be holding a burning hot child to my chest. He’s just lucky they didn’t have Facebook Messenger back then.

I wanted to be married to Jeffrey Zakarian one Thanksgiving when curried carrot soup was the trend and of course Cesar Milan was the object of my affection when years ago our St. Bernard became aggressive, turned to us and said, “This is how it’s gonna be. Nobody in, nobody out. And don’t try anything funny.”

So what’s the harm? In times like these it’s fun to daydream and take yourself away even for just a few moments from the terrifying state of the world and the frightening TV news with numbers that are worsening every day. The news reports play over and over in my head and keep me from sleeping as I lay worrying about my parents and my children and everyone else I care about becoming the next statistic. I just can’t seem to turn it off. 

That being said…how do you think Jake Tapper would look in a tux?