Page 8 of Little Paper Games
I’m not sure what I ever saw in him. I tended to have bad taste in men in that regard. Guys who seemed nice, you know? The polar opposite of guys like Jude.
But somehow they always turned out to be manipulative or rude or assuming or…
Well, it didn’t matter now. Craig hadn’t shown his face around here since that day. I’d seen him a few times around campus, but, honestly, he always turned and almost ran the other direction. I hadn’t thought that Jude had literally put the fear of God into Craig, but I guess I was wrong. Regardless, it felt good not to have to deal with the little turd of a man. I deserved better.
It wouldn’t really matter now, it looked like. The last month, classes had become more and more strange. Less students, people getting sick, random reports on the news. Now, the CDC, WHO, and other large name groups were all in agreement. That was never an easy sign to see when dealing with words like global pandemic. The disease attacked the respiratory system and after that, well; it got ugly. I tuned out the sounds of the news anchors, the sight of other countries going into lockdown and the chaos that seemed to be mounting, shaking my nerves.
Ring! Ring!
“Hey, Momma. How are you?” I answered a little blankly.
“Did you see the news?” my mother asked me with a somewhat frantic nervous energy.
“Yes, Mom. I’m watching right now,” I spoke softly, my eyes still glued to footage from China, London, and Italy.
“I think you should come home, Hun,” she suggested. Of course she did.
“I know you do, Mom, but honestly, you’re just on the other side of town. Everything will be fine.” My mom did this anytime something big happened. Worst-case scenario thinker she was.
“Do you have enough groceries? Cleaners? Toilet paper?” Mom pressed, firing off her questions rapidly.
“I’m just fine, Mom. Plus, if I run out, I can always get more or, worst-case scenario, you’ll have extra for me,” I placated her. I knew deep down she just needed to be needed for a moment. It was a mom thing.
“I just want to make sure you have what you need. Don’t blame me for w anting to make sure you’re taken care of,” her mother shot back, but I could hear the smile in her voice.
“I know, Mom, and I appreciate that more than you know. I don’t have masks yet, but I’ll put in an order for them today. I promise.” My mother had a point. With the way things were going, it was better to be safe than sorry. Classes had all ended early today, on a Friday, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bigger was headed this way. It was an unease that settled deep into the pit of my stomach and made its home there.
“Call me tomorrow, okay? I just… Listen, I know I’m totally being that Mom but—”
“Mom, I’ll call. I promise. And I’m thankful to have a Mom who is still ‘that Mom’ to me. It means you care deeply. I love you. Tell Dad I love him too.” I felt tears prick at my eyes as we hung up the phone. Things just felt very uncertain with this virus affecting everyone, not just here, but everywhere. That had an unfathomable realness and a heavy weight to it.
The rest of the day, I felt like a zombie. I immediately changed into my comfy pajamas when I hung up with my mother and relaxed. High anxiety moments plus underwires just did not mix well.
Sitting and relaxing wasn’t working today, either. I felt restless and on edge, yet unable to pinpoint the source.
After ordering groceries, more than I should have, and stocking up on other supplies I was low on, I decided to try to do some homework. I was already ahead in all of my classes, but I needed something to fill up my time with.
When I opened my laptop, I got a ping. It was my advisor.
School was shut down effective immediately. We were being asked to have patience while the university decided on the best way to move forward. School was cancelled. Well, effectively they had pressed the pause button. I couldn’t blame them, but at the same time, my anxiety felt nearly out of control.
Ring! Ring!
It was my mother again.
“Hey, Mom,” I began, unable to hide the dread in my voice.
“Turn on the news, Kenna.” Her mother’s voice was scared.
“Mom, I already know, they shut down the school—”
“Kenna Violet, turn on the news. This isn’t about the school.” I didn’t wait another second, running back to the couch and turning the television back on. It was still set to the local news channel.
And the headline read:Lockdown effective immediately. All citizens of Middlebury are ordered to stay in their homes and to await further instruction.
Holy fuck.
What did that even mean?
