Page 21 of Locked Down In Watch Hill
ASHLEY
We.
We. We. We. We.
It wasn’t a big word. Two letters. A consonant and a vowel. But it had been so long since I was a “we” with anyone. I’d had endless dates with men all over the city, and jumped from one pending relationship to the next, always on the cusp of something that would become permanent but never did.
That felt so long ago.
And now, it was almost as if I’d become socialized to the idea of being alone, as if I accepted it. And here was someone offering me a semblance of my old life.Someone wanting to spend time with me.And as I thought that I wondered where that self-doubt had come from.
I probably typed five or six different replies and deleted all of them. None felt right; all sounded trite and silly. After the last one, I locked my phone, poured myself a glass of wine, and turned on the TV. Nothing like killing time in front of black screen of nothingness.
The following morning, I called my sister. Bridget answered out of breath and told me she’d just completed a run on the small treadmill she’d somehow managed to fit into her apartment. “I was just about to call you. Why didn’t you pick up my call yesterday, on your birthday?”
I laughed. “I was upset and then ... it’s stupid now. Funny how I thought I would be so upset being in quarantine on my birthday, but it really wasn’t so bad.”
“That’s good. I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I replied. “But you sound out of breath.”
“Trust me, it’s not easy to get five miles in on this thing. Feels like there is almost no ventilation in here.”
“I admire the commitment.”
“It’s way too cold to run outside and I swore I wasn’t going to gain another ten pounds.” She snorted. “The first ten were enough.”
“I need to follow your lead.”
“Let’s turn on FaceTime,” she said, and switched her phone to the video line. Once the image filled my screen, my sister smiled back at me, a towel around her neck, sweat across her brow and on her T-shirt. “And happy birthday, even if it’s a day late.”
“Thanks.” I grinned.It was a lot happier than I thought it would be.
“Anything else new?”
“I have a crush on the pizza delivery guy,” I blurted.
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“You heard me. I have a crush on the pizza delivery guy.” It felt good to say it aloud. “Well, he’s not just the pizza guy, although he does sometimes deliver the orders. He’s also the owner.”
“Of Watch Hill Pizza? The place I got you that gift card for?”
“That’s the one.” I sank into my corduroy couch and spread my hand. “He’s nice, and he came over last night—”
“Came over? Aren’t you still in quarantine?”
“Yes, but we followed the guidelines. We didn’t interact, we wore masks, and he ate out on the balcony.” I hated having to make these kinds of excuses. “I promise, we were safe.”
“Okay.” She sighed. “I hate having to ask stuff like that. I mean, I hate it.”
“Me too.”
“I just don’t want you to get sick.” She closed her eyes again. “I heard from my boss yesterday on a conference call. He has the virus, and so does the rest of his family.”
“That’s terrible.”
“It is.” She opened her eyes, and for the first time I saw the sadness and the toll this whole experience had taken on her. “He’s not too sick right now, but he’s worried about his wife, who had COPD. So just keep her in your thoughts.”
