“I think they’ll make a comeback,” said Mike. “I want something long-term. It sounds crazy, but I can see myself with my wife and kids, and eventually grandkids. I have this vision of seders or Chanukah parties, just like when I was a kid. Tons of people, tons of food, and totally chaotic.”
“That really makes you happy,” said Freddie. “I haven’t seen you smile like that in all the time we’ve been together.”
“Except for the fact that we’re not really together,” reminded Mike. “Not in that sense anyway. We’re just quarantining, and then we’ll go our separate ways.”
Not that long till Freddie and he would be out of quarantine. And what would that mean? Solitude, decent coffee, and the use of his bed again instead of the Crippling Couch. So why did the proposition make him feel… what was the word? Mike had a grid listing various emotions which he used with his students to help them identify what they were feeling. He tried to recreate the chart in his head, and the only thing he could pinpoint was Lonely, with a side order of Emptiness.
Clearly, this was significant. The longest time he’d spent with another human being in a while had left him craving contact. There was only one thing to do.
“Freddie, you’re a freakin’ genius,” he said, taking her hands. “I knew there was something lacking in my life. Then you came along and now I know exactly what I want.”
Freddie smiled, although there was a touch of panic in her expression. This was not the fastest that any man had pledged undying love for her. The record was forty-five minutes, but there was a lot of wine involved, and maybe some other stuff on his part.
“I know it sounds impulsive, but it’s probably been on my mind for a long time.” Mike dropped Freddie’s hands, and for a second, she thought he was going to drop to one knee.
“So, when this is over…”
“Yes?”
“I’m getting a dog!”
“A dog! How about that?” Freddie didn’t know whether she was going to cry tears of relief or tears of disappointment. Either way, tears were coming, and soon. She bolted from the living room and ran to the bathroom. Five minutes of repeated flushing followed. Mike knocked on the door. “There’s antacid in the medicine cabinet if you need it,” he said, not knowing whether it was inappropriate to mention it, or to even imply that she would need it.
“Thank you,” yelled Freddie, flushing one more time. A session of handwashing followed, and when Freddie exited the bathroom, she made a beeline for the kitchen, where she busied herself with the process of making matcha tea.
“A dog,” she said, plunking herself on the couch. “Dogs are nice.” She was thinking of the neutral subject of Nice Dogs She Had Known, but the only doggie that came to mind was the Caplanskys’ Goldendoodle, Monet. Not the happiest dog. He could only eat special gourmet dog food, possibly because his stomach had been made too delicate to handle anything else. Instead of playing in the back yard, he had a dog walker come at regular intervals to take him out. It wasn’t what Freddie imagined a dog would like. She couldn’t remember seeing him wagging his tail, or even rolling around on the floor playing with Luna or Soleil, who would have enjoyed the diversion from being dressed like real-life dolls.
“Where’s the nearest dog park?” Surely dogs would benefit from playing with their peer group.
“There’s one in the area,” said Mike. “Right near the community garden.” That would be a good place to meet people, he thought. The sort of woman who was interested in growing her own tomatoes or walking her cute Boston terrier would be exactly the type of person who’d want a lifelong relationship. It stood to reason, and Mike prided himself on being reasonable.
Mike grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and logged on to his computer, hoping to be able to video chat with his grandmother. As the only relative in Montreal, it was up to him to keep Nana’s spirits up.
“Hey, Nana! What’s cookin’? I’m surprised I caught you, with your busy social life.”
“It’s better than yours,” muttered Freddie. Mike glared at Freddie, then turned his attention back to the computer.
“Hi Mikey. I was just about to do Chair Yoga. Rose taught me how to go on YouTube. They have everything you could think of, even karaoke. Can you imagine?”
“You don’t say. I’ll have to check out the karaoke some time. But why are you doing a YouTube video? Nothing in the Social Hall catch your fancy?”
“Didn’t you hear, Mikey? We’re on lockdown. Nobody can come into the facility unless they’re staff, and they can only work at one place. The yoga instructor and the karaoke guy are outsiders. So’s the hairdresser, the manicurist, and the pet therapist. Thank goodness the pharmacy technician is an employee. She counts everything out for me. I could do it myself, but if they’re willing to do it, why bother? Right?”
“Sure. So, when do you get to see people? Are they socially distancing in the dining room?” Mike motioned for Freddie to come over. She tiptoed to the couch, matcha tea in hand, and sat down without interrupting the conversation.
“We’re getting room service. The coffee cart comes around every morning and afternoon, and I can get the Gazette. I shouldn’t complain, because a lot of people have it worse. But I only moved here because I didn’t want to be all by my lonesome in an apartment. And now, that’s exactly what I am.”
Freddie and Mike exchanged glances.
“Hi, Nana Fran,” she said. “Don’t think of it as being alone. Think of it as cocooning. Maybe I’ll find us an online painting class, and have supplies sent up to you and Bubbie. We can all paint together. Won’t that be fun?”
Everything came down to painting, whether it was dumbed-down renditions of famous works of art or skillfully applied makeup.
“If you say so,” said Fran. Freddie’s attitude was a bit too enthusiastic, perhaps. When you had to talk someone into having fun, it probably wasn’t their idea of fun. Oh well.
“Do you want us to order you something from the chicken place? They’re still open for delivery. We can order from there, too, and we can do a Zoom call for dinner. What do you think, Nana?”
“The other options are Salisbury steak or starvation,” said Frances with a sardonic laugh. “Count me in. Order me a leg. With fries, and please ask them to make sure the fries are very well-done. I hate it when they’re pale. And a piece of their coconut cream pie for dessert, with a diet soft drink.”
“Gotcha! And when this is all over and done with, well, I don’t want to give anything away, but there may be some changes in my household.”
“No spoilers?” Nana sat up, attentively. Maybe she would be Rose’s new in-law after all. Oh, how many times had they discussed getting Mike and Freddie together. It had happened, and now it looked like everything was falling into place. Miracles happened at the strangest times!
“No spoilers, Nana. You’re just gonna have to wait, like everyone else.” Mike knew how much his grandmother loved dogs. They’d had a beagle named Tippy when he was growing up. Or maybe it was a Basset hound. Tippy had long, droopy ears, waddled instead of walking, and loved to be fed bits of human food. All around, an awesome dog. Nana would be so happy to see the tradition carried on. First Tippy, then Buster, and soon? Some very cool name. Maybe Snoop.
Freddie was on her phone, talking animatedly with Bubbie Rose. Somehow, the name of Marie Antoinette had been invoked, and Freddie was making what looked like a shopping list.
“So, one breast with extra coleslaw and Boston cream pie? Got it. I’ll send you the link for the chat on Facebook. You know how to get to that, right? Good. All you have to do is click on the darker letters and it will take you right there. Nana Fran’s going to be joining us. Yes, we’re aiming for five-thirty so you can watch the news. See you later. Love you!”
The thought of a socially distant dinner party made Mike smile. He’d been smiling a lot. First, he’d decided to get Snoop, which was a good name for a dog. He knew that if the dog had been well-trained, he or she would resist a n
ame change, so that part was up in the air. The students had all handed in their assignments, even Charlotte, whose attitude had been somewhere between not giving a damn and not giving a shit ever since she’d been admitted. Now, she was leaving for Philadelphia, to enter a clinical trial.
Mike started reading the essays, which were supposed to be on the topic of Influential Authors. Usually, J.K. Rowling was the most frequently cited. Most people could relate to Harry Potter, or at least to one of the main characters. It was also important to have a fandom. Mike supported this, with his collection of t-shirts from his favorite Marvel movies. Students learned quickly that if he wore his Wakanda shirt, it was Science Day. The Hulk meant a lesson on dealing with emotions, and Dr. Strange indicated that they were going esoteric. This could mean anything from studying an ancient culture to comparative religion.
“Freddie, c’mere,” he called. “Look at what Charlotte wrote – you’re her favorite author!”
“But all I did was that weekly blog,” said Freddie. “And I couldn’t stick with it because it was on the Caplanskys’ website. How could I be anyone’s favorite?”
Mike flipped to another screen. “We’ll start here,” he said.
“January 14.
‘The Power of Beauty.
‘Remember the ad that said not to hate me because I’m beautiful? I’m not sure that’s a real reason to hate anybody. I don’t hate beautiful people, even though I’m not sure I’d count myself in their ranks. We’ve been trained to cast a very narrow and unforgiving eye on ourselves. To focus on our flaws. Why? Because they’re monetizable.
I say this as someone who has endorsement contracts for makeup products. I’d like you to buy them. They’re good products that do the job they’re supposed to do. I post pictures of myself on social media wearing them all the time. The more you buy, the more money I make, which will give me a sense of security. Kind of like the feeling I get when somebody calls me beautiful and means it.
That somebody is usually my grandmother. Her skin care regimen consists of soap and water, or maybe the shampoo suds that slide off her hair when she’s in the shower. Her skin is wrinkled with laugh lines, smile lines, frown lines, age spots and all the other so-called evils that come from not using an expensive skin care regimen. She’s earned every single one of those fine lines, and she wears them well.
My grandmother may be the only person I believe when they call me beautiful, because she’s also the only person who doesn’t want anything from me. No agendas, no contracts, no wanting me to be a notch on their bedpost. To my grandmother, the only difference between a wildflower and a weed is a judgement call.
So, my message is: Don’t let society define you. Find the people who love you just because you exist. And remember that weeds are flowers, too.
Luv,
Freddie Zee
XOXO’
“You had to bring that up, Mike? Seriously?” Freddie stared into her empty teacup, hoping she could predict the future from reading matcha dregs.
“I didn’t bring it up. Charlotte did.”
“Okay. Technically, you’re off the hook.” Freddie went to the kitchen, returning with two bottles of water. “Here,” she said, not meeting Mike’s gaze as she shoved the water bottle roughly in his direction. “Hydration is important.”
“It is. With all the handwashing. Right?”
“Yeah.” Freddie’s voice sounded gruff, like she was choking. She took a long draught of water, the kind that came from a big-box store as opposed to an Alpen spring. “I wrote that myself. Most of the gang used ghostwriters, but I never did. It didn’t feel honest.”
“Well, what you wrote was certainly honest,” said Mike. “And beautiful. If you don’t mind me using the B-word, that is.” He gave a wry smile.
“No. Not at all. I’m used to the other B-word. But that’s okay. I’ve earned being called a bitch. It took a lot of work. It wasn’t something that came naturally to me.”
“And your hard work was rewarded – how? You left L.A. under a cloud of scorn, mallrats made fun of you in Target, and you ended up couch surfing, first with your grandmother and now with me.”
“Except I’m not the one who’s sleeping on the couch. You are.” Freddie gave a Mona Lisa smile, remembering that she still had something, whatever the ‘something’ was. Her victory in the Food Delivery Challenge had proven that. “And don’t worry about the food supply. I’ve taken care of that.” She flashed another smile. This was her best move ever!
Chapter 9
Mike couldn’t take his eyes off Freddie, no matter how hard he tried. He kept having thoughts about fields of wildflowers, swaying gracefully in the breeze. Melanie’s folks’ cottage had a field of flowers at the beginning of the season, but they were meticulous about keeping the area trimmed into the equivalent of a military buzz cut. It made very little sense. Nature was supposed to be natural, not manicured into a caricature of beauty. Mike flashed on the disturbing image of coffee cups containing bonsai redwoods.
“That tree thing. It ain’t right,” he said to no one in particular. Freddie had occupied the bathroom, where she was giving herself a beauty treatment of some kind. He could hear her exclaiming, “Oh my freaking Gawd! It’s like Parmesan cheese!” He didn’t know what she was talking about, nor did he want to. It was probably better that way. Looking into Freddie’s brain was a scary thought. One the one hand, she was superficial, shallow and couldn’t make a decent cup of coffee if her followers depended on it. Yet, she’d written about the meaning of beauty and her words had gotten a kid dealing with carcinoma in the midst of a pandemic to show interest in something that had nothing to do with illness. That had to count for something.
Freddie came into the living room, bearing a container of what did indeed look like grated Parm. “Can you believe I let my feet get that bad? What was I thinking?”
“You weren’t thinking about dinner, because that’ll kill anyone’s appetite.”
“Ha ha. Very funny. We have a couple of hours till the chicken gets here. I think I’ll go out on the balcony for a few minutes.”
Mike watched as Freddie opened the sliding patio doors. She really was lovely, in her yoga gear that accentuated her curves. How could anyone be petite and curvy at the same time? You’d think one would cancel out the other. Apparently not.
This was getting to be ridiculous. Mike wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend, especially someone like Freddie. For cryin’ out loud, one afternoon of cross-border shopping had been more than enough. If not for the quarantine, he would have dropped her off at the King Solomon and driven home in blissful solitude, rehearsing excuses for why the date hadn’t worked out so The Grannies would have nothing to complain about. Tessa the rec tech was much more his type, anyway. She had a friendly Girl-Scout style of relating to people, and he was willing to bet she’d never compared foot filings to Parmesan cheese.
But no. He had Freddie as his houseguest, standing on the balcony like she owned the place, her toes splayed apart with toilet paper. She was talking to herself. No. she was talking to someone on FaceTime. She kept repeating, “But we’re not in California. Don’t we have to make allowances?”
Finally, with a long, protracted sigh, Freddie came back inside. Removing the toilet paper from between her toes with the utmost care, she sat down next to Mike.
“I bet you were wondering what that was all about,” she said. In other words, she was inviting Mike to ask.
“Nah. You’re entitled to your privacy,” said Mike. No way was he going to give Freddie the satisfaction.
“Aww. Come on. You’re dying to find out,” she said. Translation: Mike was gonna hear it whether he wanted to or not.
“I ordered garden stuff. Everything you need to feed yourself all summer. Isn’t that wonderful? I knew you’d love it because of the coffee compost.” Freddie was bouncing up and down with delight.
“That would be great, except I was planning to go to Toronto for a few weeks, once we’re a
ble to travel. I want to have some real time with my family.”
“Of course.” Freddie looked deflated. Defeated. Her eyes welled up with tears.
Oh shit, thought Mike. He needed a Hail Mary pass. There was only one thing he could think of.
“So I would need a house-sitter,” he continued. “If you know anyone, that is. Someone to take in the mail, check on the plants. The usual stuff.”
“I could do that,” said Freddie, not sure if she was going to laugh or cry from relief. Somebody who wasn’t family trusted her enough to offer her a job, even if it was only a volunteer gig. “I found this online class on urban gardening – “
“It’s okay,” said Mike, combatting the urge to give Freddie a comforting pat on the back. “I’m not going anywhere any time soon. And neither are you, for the next week, at least. Then, what?”
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to move in with Bubbie. If they’re on total lockdown – No. I won’t think of that. Everything’s gonna be fine. Just fine. Worst case scenario, I can go to my parents’ place. It’ll be like living in a war zone because they’re in the midst of renovating, but it won’t be too bad. They’ll have to quarantine when they get back, so I can do their shopping and stuff.”
“That’s very helpful,” said Mike, not knowing what else to say. It was true. Freddie prided herself on being a helpful person. The only problem was that her idea of helping was giving someone what she wanted them to have which didn’t always coincide with what they needed. Like ordering one of each of the desserts for the Grannies, in case they had Dessert FOMO. Their rooms had fridges, so food spoilage wasn’t an issue, but did they really need all that sugar?
It got worse, if such a thing was even possible. Freddie had ordered three entire pies: apple, pecan, and coconut cream. She stuck the pecan pie in the freezer but looked like a hungry waif whenever she passed the kitchen island.
“Time to log on,” said Mike, holding the foil containers of rotisserie chicken. “I hope there aren’t any glitches. You never know.”
My Funny Quarantine Page 6