Page 4 of Locked Down In Watch Hill
“That’s a shame.”
My face fell. “And it’s my birthday in a few days. I was supposed to celebrate it there.”
“That’s a shame,” he said softly. “I mean, that really sucks.”
“It does.” I winced. A missed birthday wasn’t a big deal, and yet it was.
“Why didn’t you go ahead and go?” Kyle studied me. “I didn’t realize Mexico was closed to us. I see people posting from there all the same time on Instagram.”
“It’s not, it’s open. But ...” I touched the outside of my mask. “I got exposed to someone who has the virus. At least, I got an email from a dental surgery telling me that I did, and that I was sitting next to someone who later tested positive. I’m in quarantine for five more days.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Fine.” I held up a hand. “I don’t have any symptoms at all. I mean, not at all. I’ve been taking my temperature and checking. Not even a cough.”
“That’s good.”
“Of course, I might be asymptomatic. I might have it and not even realize it.” I stepped a little farther away. “And I mean, I don’t want you to get it. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“We both have on masks. I’m sure it’s okay.”
“What if it isn’t?”
He shrugged. “Then I guess we will find out.”
“We will.” I sighed. “So even though I could probably go to Mexico once the quarantine ends, something about the trip didn’t feel right.”
“I guess that makes sense. One of the few things right now that probably does.” The two of us stared at each other for a long moment. Then finally, he held out the food. “I guess I should give you this. You’re probably hungry.”
“Thanks.” I took the boxes but made no move to close to the door. “Listen, I, um ... it was nice meeting you back on New Year’s Eve. That was a great party.”
“Like a whole other world now. A lifetime ago.”
“I know.” I hesitated. “I sometimes think about what it would be like if I could go back in time and tell myself what was coming next.”
“You probably wouldn’t believe yourself.”
“But it would be nice to try. Nice to see if I could convince myself to invest in stuff like hand sanitizer and disinfecting wipes.”
“And drug companies.” Kyle laughed again. “I would really try to tell myself that.”
“At least we have vaccines now. We just need to get them out to people.”
“We will.” His eyes met mine again, boring into me. “And soon enough this will all be over. You’ll be out of quarantine and traveling again. I promise.”
“I hope you’re right,” I replied on a sigh, and on the further realization that this conversation was about to end.
It was the longest “real” one I’d had with a person in a long time. I spent most of my days scourging the Internet for jobs and freelance work, bingeing TV shows, watching exercise videos on YouTube, and joining in on the occasional video chat happy hour a friend or former sorority sister organized in a desperate effort to keep connecting going. When I did venture outside, I jogged on barren streets and gave masked strangers a wide berth while telling myself I was doing my part to protect my fellow citizens.
I was lonely. Really lonely.
And I longed for the nuances that came from the cadence of a conversation like this one. Before the pandemic, I’d taken all of that for granted, and even bemoaned it to my friends. “Why are men so hard to talk to?” I’d exclaim over a glass of overpriced mimosa to friends as we regaled each other with stories about the men we met for drinks and dinner. “They are the worst.”
Nowthe worstwas better than nothing at all. I’d take a whole heaping of worst, followed by a side of rancid worst, and a tall glass of fermented worst.
Anything. Anything at all.
“Good night, Ashley,” Kyle finally said, stepping away. This conversation really was over, the vestiges of it threating to blow away alongside the remaining fall leaves. God, it had been such a long year. “Hope you enjoy the pizza.”
