Covidship: A Pandemic Alliance

By Yasitha Ratnayake

The world was in the grips of the coronavirus pandemic, and people were on lockdown. Tara , a devoted housewife and mum, loses her friend to cancer; falls in to a virtual relationship with her daughter’s computer tutor. Tara and Hayden develop a close attachment. Tara risks her fourteen-year marriage as a result of this unexpected alliance she had forged with Hayden. The relationship’s complexities go beyond the tension between Seth and Tara, because of Hayden. Hayden refuses to give up onTara, and vice versa. Ultimately, the complexities of the relationships intensify beyond comprehension for the three parties. Tara endures persistent doubts about her life. She decides to live independently but promises to take care of the important people in her life. A housewife becomes a writer. A husband at a loss given his unconditional love for his wife. A stranger becomes intertwined in a loving family, hiding an undeniable truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Dec 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781664102439

Yasitha Ratnayake

Yasitha Ratnayake always had an ignite passion for writing and was looking for an opportunity to write and publish a better piece of work. She was interested in writing a compelling piece of romance. She took advantage of the coronavirus pandemic lockdown to write a story that would interest the readers impacted by the pandemic worldwide. She graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree in humanities from the University of Peradeniya, Sri Lanka. She was a volunteer worker, and at present, her passion is to write more pieces from different genres.

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Copyright © 2020 by Yasitha Ratnayake.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 12/10/2020

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Contents

Acknowledgment

Lockdown Loss

Lockdown Lover

Covidship (Lockdown fixation)

Lockdown burden (Covidship II)

Teenybopper on Lockdown

Lockdown Restrictions

Lockdown Letters

Those who find it hard to express their true feelings are brave

enough to hold it, and pretend that they are not hurt.

Acknowledgment

During the pandemic Lockdown, I felt bored and decided to write a story that could happen to a family, imagining the unexpected situations people might have gone through during the Lockdown. It would not have been possible without the kind support and help of my husband and two other individuals. I would like to extend my heartfelt gratitude to Sanjaya Yapa, my husband who supported me financially, to Nicholas Hetrelezis, a caring friend who inspired me and encouraged me to move forward with my writing. A special thank goes to Olga Abeysekara for helping me with editing and reviewing the content of my work. Last but not least, my one and only loving daughter for always being there for me.

Lockdown Loss

The babbling bubbles from the tap poured into my kettle to make my morning tea. I quickly brewed some tea and sat on my recliner to watch the news. It was a time of many distractions and uncertainties. We were on Lockdown due to COVID-19. Everybody was Corondose, yet the information was so important to remain informed and move forward with life.

Ammi, it’s Diya; Jayant gave a call, Seth said.

I shivered as the news hit me like a bullet to my chest. I rushed upstairs as fast as a flash of lightning. I took my mobile phone and called Amani, Jayant’s wife.

Is it true? I asked. yes, a few minutes ago. that was the answer from the other end of the line.

We all knew that Diya was not going to last much longer in this world. She had breast cancer for more than three years, and it had spread through to her brain, making it impossible to cure. The best she could do was hope and pray until her last breath.

Diya was the only real friend I had since I came to live in Melbourne. She was the first person to visit me on my arrival, and she was delighted with our decision to make a move to Melbourne. She moved to Australia a year before us. From the day she moved, she hadn’t had the chance to enjoy life. She went through breast-conserving surgery, and then she had to recover from psychological trauma, and her suffering was relentless. Watching her endure was like watching her walk through hip-high mud.

However, by the time I moved in, she was in excellent mental health. She and I used to hang around a lot with our two kids, her son and my daughter, who were of the same age. I was fortunate to have her around because I was like the sand tossed by the tide, alone, and friendless if it was not for her. Most of our days spent in Foresthill Chase: snacking out, shopping, watching movies, talking nonsense, all of which we enjoyed a lot.

Amani was still there on the other side of the line, but I wasn’t at all listening because that news shocked my spirit like the vibration of a church bell. As my senses returned to me, I asked, what are we going to do? No idea. But we must call up Chamal and see what we can do, she uttered. Going to a hospital was the most dangerous thing to do at that time. Crammed with patients infected with coronavirus, and even those who died from Corona were unseen by their loved ones, I could not imagine getting in even under my unfortunate circumstances.

I was rattled to my core, the plight of COVID-19, now amplified by my loss. I moved towards my daughter’s room for some comfort; she was still asleep, like a log. I went to her and snuggled in beside her tightly, thinking about what would happen to her if I would have to leave suddenly without saying goodbye. Tears raced down my cheeks and dropped upon her forehead, which woke her. Although she was very young at that time, my daughter