Page 2 of Quarantined
We strut over to the large island, that has a liquor shelf built to the side. I keep a safe distance, with eyes in the back of my head, as he follows me. The pepper spray in my back pocket is a straining reminder that I am not so trustworthy or naive anymore. I refuse to underestimate the risks of the predicament I am in.
I have thought this through. This is the only logical solution, but I am still uncomfortable with the conclusion. Staying at this house is far from ideal. In fact, it's my last resort.
Rent in New York City is absurd, even with roommates. And due to my full-time unpaid internship, the only jobs I could do was bartending or waitressing, after work and on weekends.
So I shared a shitty basement, with two other girls. I worked at my internship from Monday through Friday, and then as a bartender after work, from Thursday through Saturday. I was exhausted by my seventy hour work weeks. And I could still barely scrape up enough cash for food and rent.
That was my level of commitment, rather than coming back to live in this hell hole. And for a little while, my plan was working.
What I didn't account for is COVID-19.
A few months ago, we heard an inkling of something called coronavirus, discovered in the Wuhan district of China. Apparently, it was spreading very quickly.
The problem with humans is, we believe what we see. At that time, it seemed like it was a problem for the other end of the world.
In less than two months, the first case of COVID-19 was reported in the USA, on the west coast. Still, those of us on the east coast skated away, not worried about what will happen.
Within a few weeks, COVID-19 was all over the USA. Currently, all states have it, except for West Virginia for some God damn reason. In fact, most of the world is reporting cases in their countries. It's a pandemic of a proportion we have never seen in our lifetimes.
The government immediately set in protocols. Social distancing. Complete shutdown. Isolation. Stay indoors. Today was my last day at my internship. The company decided to close down till April, or until the situation progresses for the better. And a few days ago, I lost my job as a bartender. All part-time servers were laid off, as the government is encouraging people to stay indoors.
Loss of job, loss of hope, complete isolation. I had no idea what to do.
Reid, along with the rest of our family members, twisted my arm into moving back to the Sinclair home. I couldn't find a suitable explanation that will satiate Reid and them, about why I couldn't live with my family during these desperate times.
I have been laid off from my bartending gig. My internship is unpaid, so I have no other income coming in. The government is telling us to stay indoors, and it's much better to share a household with your loved ones, than two girls I barely know. I had a month to month lease with the landlord, which was easy to break due to this epidemic.
As free food and accommodation are readily available at my childhood home, at a time where it seems like the world is ending, what excuse can I possibly provide to decline this offer?
It was checkmate. They had me.
I took comfort in the fact that the whole family will also be staying here, as we are all going into isolation for a minimum of two weeks, maybe more. Not that their presence ever stopped Milo before, but at least I have them to rely on. This time I will be more vocal, stand my ground, and stand up to him.
I bring my attention back to the situation at hand. He is still watching me as he starts looking through the liquor shelf. He pulls out a bottle of red wine and pours two glasses.
He shrugs, "We don't have any gin for the martini. I hope you still like Malbec."
"That's fine!" I love Malbec. I still grind my teeth. He does have gin. He knows that I spat out a complicated drink, knowing full well that Reid stocks all the ingredients for martinis.
He is forcing me to acknowledge that he won't bend over backward for me. I bite down the inside of my cheeks. That fucker!
I graciously accept the glass of wine. I have to establish a polite, ladylike, and aloof nature, creating a distance between us. Familiarity breeds contempt. If I act childish or chide him like he is a close friend, he won't take me seriously and might try to manipulate me further.
No, I need to act refined, mature, and well put together, while I give him the cold shoulder. He has to know I am untouchable and confident. I won't take his shit anymore. Milo should tense before making any demands. I am not a little girl anymore, who is consistently seeking his approval. I will not be bullied into unacceptable behavior or be taken advantage of.
I focus on staying distant and take a small sip of the red wine.
"When did you get back to New York?" His eyes are glued to me.
"A week ago." I lie smoothly. I have been dodging him for years. If he knows I have been living in New York for months, it's going to start an argument off the bat.
"Are you working?"
"I am doing an internship at Karen's company." I clear my throat. I am already uncomfortable.
"What about Paris? And your mom?"
"It didn't work out." I hate this conversation. I don't want him to know about my failures.
