The Veríssimo Project

John was tired when he got home and said to his wife, Mary, that he wanted to take a bath, have dinner, and go straight to bed. Mary reminded John that that evening they had plans to have dinner with Peter and Louise. John slapped his forehead, cursed and declared that he would not, under any circumstances, go have dinner at anyone's house. Mary said that the dinner had been scheduled a week before and it would be rude not to go. John restated his intention to stay home. Mary was burdened with the task of calling Louise and giving an excuse. They could reschedule for the next night.

Mary called Louise and said that John had come home not looking very well, feverish even, and that she thought it best he stay home and rest for the night. Louise told Mary it was a shame, for they had prepared a beautiful Blanquette de Veau, but it was alright. John's health was the most important thing. They rescheduled for the next night, if John felt any better.

John took a bath, had dinner and went to lie down. Mary sat in the living room and watched television. Around nine there was a knock at the door. John, awake in the bedroom, unable to fall asleep, groaned. Mary, already in her nightgown, went to the bedroom to get her robe. John suggested they not open the door. At that time it had to be something annoying. He would have to get out of bed. Let them knock. Mary agreed. She did not open the door.

Half an hour later, the phone rang, waking John. Mary answered. It was Louise wanting to know what had happened.

- What? - asked Mary.
- We were there a second ago, we knocked and knocked but no one answered.
- You were here?
- To check on John. Peter said that he had been feeling the same symptoms for a few days and wanted to give him some tips. What happened?
- You're not gonna believe this - said Mary, thinking quickly. - John took a turn for the worse. I tried calling a doctor but couldn't get a hold of anyone. So we went to the hospital.
- What? So it's serious.
- The fever got worse. He started feeling pains all over his body.
- Red spots on my face - suggested John, who was now by the phone, apprehensive.
- His face was covered with red spots.
- Oh my God! Has he had chicken pocks, measles, those things?
- Yes. The doctor said he had never seen anything like it.
- How is he now?
- Better. The doctors gave him something. He is in bed.
- We are coming right over.
- Wait!

But Louise had already hung up. John and Mary looked at each other. What now? They couldn't have Peter and Louise over. How would they explain the disappearance of the red spots?

- We can say the medicine the doctor gave me worked miraculously. That I'm better. That we could even go out and get something to eat - said John, with remorse.
- They won't buy that. I think they're already suspicious. That's why they're coming over. Louise didn't believe a single word I said.

They decided to turn off all the lights in the apartment and put a note on the door. John dictated to Mary.

- Write this: "John took a turn for the worse. The doctor thought we should bring him in. Will call from the hospital."
- They might go to the hospital after us.
- They won't know which hospital.
- They will call every one. I know it. Louise would never forgive a missed Blanquette de Veau.
- Then write this: "John took a turn for the worse. The doctor thought we should bring him in to his private clinic. The phone number is 236-6688."
- But that's the phone number to your office.
- Exactly. We'll go there and wait for their call.
- But by the time we get to your office...
- We have to go!

They left the note stuck on the door. They pressed the elevator button. It was already on the way up. It was them!
- The stairs, hurry!
Peter's car was blocking the parking lot exit. They couldn't use their car. It took them a while to catch a cab. When they got to the office, after spending most of the time explaining to the security guard why they had to go in the office in the middle of the night, the phone was ringing. Mary pinched her nose to disguise her voice and answered:
- Fairmount Clinic.

"Fairmount?!" John fell into an armchair, exasperated.

- One moment, please - said Mary.

She covered the mouthpiece with her shoulder and said that it was Louise. The nerve! The things we do to keep a friendship. And to not look like a liar. Mary got back on the phone.

- The patient is in room 17, but is not receiving any visitors. Miss? One moment please.

Mary covered the mouthpiece again.

- She wants to talk to me.

She answered in her normal voice.
- Hello, Louise? Yeah. We're here. No one knows what it is. The red spots are all over his body now and his nails are turning blue. What? No, Louise, there is no need for you to come down here.
- Say it's contagious - whispered John, who had laid his head back and was trying to fall asleep.
- It's contagious. I can't even go near him. Actually, they are evacuating the whole clinic and putting barriers around the block. They suspect its an african virus that...