“Ha ha. Very funny,” smirked Freddie. It was hard to maintain a proper level of sarcasm with someone so absolutely kissable. Why did life have to throw so many challenges her way? It wasn’t fair.
After using her nail file to abrade as much of the acrylic as possible, Freddie soaked cotton balls in nail polish remover and wrapped her index finger in the cotton, using the tin foil to keep the cotton in place and prevent the solvent from dripping. By the time she’d done six of her ten nails, her complete lack of manual dexterity was obvious, but she soldiered on, even though Mike chivalrously offered to help.
It took an hour for the acetone to do its magic, followed by rigorous handwashing, and several rounds of nail-buffing. At long last, Freddie was able to face the world with her own fingernails. She waved them in front of Mike and said, “That’s more like it, huh? I need to be able to operate a sewing machine.”
“And jazz hands are important – how?”
“First of all, these are spirit fingers, not jazz hands,” she said. “And I need to be able to control the fabric if I’m sewing at warp speed. Get it? Warp speed? Fabric has warp. And weft. And you don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”
Mike shook his head. “I must have been absent that day,” he said apologetically. “But because it’s important to you, I’ll read up on fabric.”
“You don’t have to. But at some point, you may be confronted with a pop quiz. So, do what you gotta do.”
“Aww, Freddie. Using my own words to get to me. Nice try, though. Come here for a second. Before we face the Grannies, do you wanna talk about what’s bothering you?”
Freddie took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to ask Bubbie to move in with me. I mean, it’s her house, so she doesn’t need permission. But I’d love to see her in a more controlled environment.” Freddie twirled a strand of hair with a dainty, acrylic-free finger.
“But how would you replicate everything she’s getting at the King Solomon? And what about the lease?” Mike’s wheels were turning.
“I was reading the government website, and all we’d have to do is pick her up. She has a lease, so she can go back any time she wants. Like, when the activities are running again. If she has to stay in one space for twenty-four hours straight, why shouldn’t she be in her own home? She loves green spaces and they closed them off at the residence. Sure, she has a balcony, but it’s not the same.”
“But what about the practicalities of caring for herself? That’s something to be considered.” Mike furrowed his brow. “I know that Nana’s basically there for the amenities. She wouldn’t need any assistance with bathing or getting dressed. Just laundry and housecleaning. What about Rose?”
“Same. She’s not disabled or cognitively impaired. Maybe a little lazy.” Freddie shrugged. “They’ve earned a life of leisure. Right? And they can have it, once we iron out all the deets. After karaoke, we’ll tell them the good news. We’ll pick both of them up when you drive me to Bubbie’s, and we’ll set up housekeeping together. It’ll be just like the Golden Girls!
Several hours later…
“That went better than I expected,” said Mike.
“Yeah. I was convinced that we’d have technical problems.” Freddie smiled, snuggling into Mike’s arms.
“ You never trust technology, do you? And thank goodness it wasn’t a competition. After hearing you sing, I would have thought it was a fix.” Mike planted a series of kisses on the top of her head.
“I did my best,” she said, blushing at the compliment. “But you totally crushed it, too. So much fun! When we’re settled in, you can come over and we can have Karaoke Night. We can order pizza. With pineapple.”
Mike flashed back to high school, where he’d had exactly this kind of evening going over to accompany his girlfriend du jour as she babysat. It was quirky and just on the edge of being uncool, but it also showed how much Freddie cared about her grandmother. The best way to describe it was wholesome, a word that had experienced a resurgence in popularity.
Mike would never have thought to use the word ‘wholesome’ to describe Freddie. At least not at first glance. She looked like anything but that, with her spackled-on makeup and affectations. But as her layers of fakery peeled off, her true character was revealed. Her kindness, her ambition, and her enjoyment of life’s simple pleasures – every little thing she did was magic, which meant that Mike would be doing a different song next time Karaoke Night rolled around.
Freddie’s heart was pounding, but not from the adrenaline that nailing a Spice Girls song always engendered. She was gearing up for the fight of her life. Nobody had ever complimented Freddie on having leadership skills, and this was exactly what she would have to demonstrate over the next few – actually, who knew how long the pandemic was going to last?
First, there were the logistics of moving. Bubbie would reclaim the master bedroom, Nana would get the second bedroom, and her parents (whenever they returned) would have to shoehorn into the third. That left Freddie in the basement, carving out a space in what was usually referred to as the maid’s room. It was a generational thing, for sure. Nobody she knew had ever had a maid, so maybe it was just a widely used snark term.
The streets lined with identical semi-detached bungalows had been built when Freddie’s grandparents were just starting out as young marrieds, and it was a leap of faith to move out to the wilds of suburbia without an infrastructure. Several generations later, the community was established, and mature trees covered the streets. But a few people still referred to the houses as “twelve-fives”, because it had cost $12,500 to purchase one of these gems.
Nowadays, they sold well into the six figures, which was more than a decent return on the initial investment. To prepare Bubbie’s house for sale would require clearing out of all the things she’d accumulated over a lifetime, as well as some basic renovations, since the original features weren’t considered charming to people who’d developed their tastes by watching HGTV.
However, the construction was solid, there was enough space for everyone, and since people of her grandmother’s generation were loath to throw out anything that was still functional, they would just need a large grocery order and they’d be ready to roll. Freddie’s parents could take charge of getting the groceries and cooking simple meals. The Grannies would not have any responsibilities aside from taking care of themselves. Hopefully, they wouldn’t fight over who got to use the bathroom first. The tub had a bench and grab bars installed, as well as old non-slip stickers festooning the bottom. Antiquated but after an enthusiastic cleaning, it would do.
The cleaning crew was coming the next day, reassured by the fact that nobody had lived in the house for months and therefore they could clean as they used to back in the good old days, despite the fact they’d be suited up in PPEs. Freddie had a preliminary food order scheduled, the cable would be hooked up along with the Wi-Fi, and the King Solomon had been told that The Grannies were just taking a “staycation in Montreal” and there would be no need to prepare Cancellation Of Lease documents.
By the time everything was taken care of, the sun had long since set and Freddie was trying her hardest to suppress her yawning. She had one more day of organization before the Big Move, and she needed to make the best of every waking minute. Not to mention those non-waking minutes. With a feline stretch, she got up from the couch.
“Oh, Mike!” She was practically singing his name. “I bet you’ll be really glad to get back to that comfy bed of yours. Right?”
Mike was about to answer about the discomfort of the couch until he realized where Freddie way going with this line of questioning. He was willing to bet another week’s salary that this had nothing to do with the couch, or his occupancy thereof. This sounded like another invitation.
“It’s a vast space compared to the couch,” he said, his tone deliberately non-committal. “It’s like a whole continent.”
“You would know,” mused Freddie. “As a teacher, I mean.”
; “Exactly,” said Mike, moving closer to Freddie. “And I spend a lot of time with my students teaching about the great explorers.” As he said this, he leaned in and his fingers began exploring the space on Freddie’s back between the straps of her sports bra and the top of her yoga pants. “Exploring takes a lot of bravery,” he continued. “You have to be watchful and responsive to your surroundings, and you never know what you’re going to find.”
“Like uncharted territory?” Freddie was amazed at how natural it felt to press her body against Mike’s. There was no urgency, no desperation, and most of all, no pressure.
“Not so much uncharted. We’re not kids. But there’s always a learning curve. That may be my favourite part.”
Chapter 13
Mike was slicing bagels for breakfast when he realized that this was the last day of the fourteen that he’d been stuck with Freddie. Where did the time go? Probably down the crapper, along with his preconceived notions about his reluctant houseguest.
“I think we have to thank The Grannies,” he said.
“Hey! Mike! Will you watch what you’re doing with that knife?” said Freddie. “I can sew masks, but I can’t suture human flesh. We should get them each a bouquet of flowers. There has to be a place that’s open.”
“I’m sure there is. Your bagel’s ready. Butter on the side and hold the blood. Right?”
Okay, Freddie likes flowers, he thought. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have suggested it as The Perfect Gift. This was going to be easy.
“Imagine seeing the Great Outdoors,” he said. “The only time I’ve left the apartment has been to go to the garbage chute. Thank goodness it’s right next door.”
Oh, no. Was the location of the garbage chute the best conversation that Mike had to offer? This had the potential to go downhill very fast.
“It’s very convenient,” said Freddie with a smile. Mike had been as furtive as a jewel thief in planning his trips to the garbage chute. He didn’t want any of his neighbours to see him leaving his apartment. His complete lack of symptomatology had nothing to do with it. He was concerned about the optics of the situation. Maybe Freddie the influencer had influenced him.
“I guess I should start packing,” said Freddie as she took one unmanicured finger and started collecting the leftover poppy seeds on her plate.
“If you need any help…” Mike’s voice trailed off. Part of him wanted to be of service, and that part was warring against the “maybe Freddie shouldn’t go” part. But this was a time for reason and logic. Freddie had gone to great lengths to make sure that she would get out of Mike’s hair and take care of The Grannies and her parents. Which would leave him free to finish the Bob Woodward book, clean out the Amazon boxes and focus on teaching.
It sounded like heaven. Except that it wasn’t. Heaven was sharing a space with someone who had more layers than an onion, and probably elicited as many tears. Heaven was knowing that, as much of a stick-in-the-mud as he could be (and he’d been called much, much worse!), someone would be able to put up with his schtick. Heaven was what he had now. And his next job was to help Freddie move to Cote St. Luc so she could spend her time hunched over a sewing machine in a sweatshop of her own making, while two lovely old ladies sat upstairs, watching daytime TV, listening to the AM radio talk shows and doing their best to amuse each other in these uncertain times.
“In these uncertain times.” Freddie wished she had a dollar for every time she’d heard that phrase. It was everywhere, from the 24/7 newscasts to the ads for goods and services that were useless “in these uncertain times”, but that didn’t stop anyone from trying to sell them. What the world needed was things that were useful. Like masks. Pretty masks, cute masks, serious masks, whimsical masks. Anything that would present a good face to the world “in these uncertain times”. A comfortable and fashionable mask would spread joy, not germs. Which was probably a great tagline for Mask Arrayed. She scribbled it down on a Post-It and brought her dishes to the sink. No point in acting like a princess in a pandemic. It was socially wrong.
It took the better part of the day for Freddie to organize her stuff. For someone who’d come into the condo with literally the clothes on her back and two bags of Oreos, she’d managed to accumulate a whole bunch of stuff. Beauty products, hair products, athleisurewear, organic food, computer equipment and sewing equipment. She’d ordered a fabric cutter that could handle up to 10 layers of material, which was going to be delivered to the house. But the replacement bobbins had arrived at Mike’s made her feel secure. She would fill the bobbins as soon as she had the opportunity, so she could be ready to replace them whenever she ran out of thread. At least something was within her control.
It was eight o’clock by the time they started to wind down. Freddie’s clothes had been packed, her bags were in the foyer and the wrappings from the submarine sandwiches had been appropriately disposed of.
Freddie and Mike were on the couch, snuggling, pretending to watch the news.
“Huh. Look at the time,” said Mike.
“What about it?” Freddie shrugged. Time had become elastic. Meaningless.
“It’s exactly two weeks since we went into quarantine. We’re both healthy. You know what that means, don’t you?” He smiled.
“We’re free?” It came out almost as a squeak. “We’re free, Mike!”
Instinctively, Mike kissed Freddie. She kissed him back, of course. But before things could escalate, she paused. Mike had an idea what she was thinking.
“That doesn’t mean you have to go now,” he said, his voice husky with desire.
“What if I wanted to go?” Freddie’s voice was challenging. She knew what the answer would be. At least, she hoped she did.
“Obviously, you’re not being held against your will.”
Against her better judgement, Freddie smiled.
“On the other hand, since you’re free to go, you’re also free to stay.”
Freddie pretended to consider this proposition.
“In that case, I will take you up on your offer,” she said. “I’ll stay with you tonight.”
***
Freddie spent the entire morning pacing up and down the apartment while Mike taught an unending Zoom class. The only time they were engaged was when Mike compared Yo Mama jokes to Shakespearian insults, which did not have the intended result of making the students into mini-Bards. The number of Yo Mama so fat… jokes turned into a lecture about the evils of sizeism, which failed to build any good will. Finally, in desperation, Mike said, “Let’s see if we can get a hold of Charlotte. Maybe she's free. I bet they're workin' her hard in Philly. I hear they make her study for her blood tests."
After mandatory groans at Mike's Dad joke, all the participants perked up. Despite the fact that the class only existed in virtual time, despite the transience of the participants and despite the circumstances that had brought them to the class in the first place, there was a bond between them. He sent invitations to Charlotte and to Freddie, who was motioning wildly in the background. As if she could ever be in the background. Not his Freddie.
Mike grinned at the thought of Freddie being in his life. Of course, the students picked up on it. After five minutes of razzing and half-hearted denials, Freddie connected on her laptop. Her face was inches away from Mike’s, their thighs were touching, their fingers were “accidentally” brushing against each other’s, and their hearts were beating in synchronization. It was impossible to hide their coupledom, and pointless to even try.
Finally, Charlotte connected, first by audio and then the video kicked in.
“Sorry, I’m having a hard time getting through,” she said. “How’s everyone?”
“Good,” everyone chorused.
Freddie asked, “How are you doing, Char?”
“It was kind of wretched the first few days, but I’ve turned the corner,” said Charlotte triumphantly. “I’m thinking of dying my hair purple when it grows in a bit more.”
“Do it!” exhorted Freddie. �
��I’ll do a purple streak so we’ll match. If you don’t mind copycatting, that is.”
“You’re such an influencer,” said Mike.
“She is,” said Freddie. “I’m naming one of my mask designs ‘The Charlotte’. That’s the one I’ll be giving to health care workers. It’ll have a tiny flower in the upper left-hand corner. Right where Charlotte has her freckle.”
“Cool,” said Mike, reverting to his role of teacher. “Charlotte, we were discussing -isms before you joined us. Any thoughts?”
“Yeah. Don’t judge a book by its cover,” she said as she rearranged the items on her table. “You may think someone is a certain way because of what you’ve seen, but that isn’t always the case. Sometimes you look like you’re down and out but you’re just getting ready for a huge comeback.”
“That’s absolutely true. When are you coming back to Montreal?”
“In about a month. Then I can go home and chill till the you-know-what is over. My immune system isn’t in good shape yet.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we have technology so we all can stay in touch,” said Freddie, trying not to tear up in front of everyone.
After Mike took a few minutes to jot down some notes, it was time to go. It took two trips to load everything into the car. The trunk and the back seat were filled with Freddie’s things.
“We should get lunch before we do anything else,” said Mike. What a pleasure it was to go through a drive-through and order burgers, then park in the lot and eat them!
“This is so good,” said Freddie, grabbing another napkin. “Do you want to finish my onion rings?” She moved the cardboard container in front of Mike, knowing he couldn’t resist. Nobody could.
“I’m good,” he said, to Freddie’s surprise. “Welp, I guess this is it.”
“Yeah. Time to move in and get to work.” Freddie hoped she sounded chipper and resolute. “I have a lot of work ahead of me.”
“I’m not worried. You got this.” Mike didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Part of him wanted to declare his feelings, but the cautious part of him had that part in a Vulcan death grip.
My Funny Quarantine Page 9