He was already intubated.
He was already—
“There’s just a lot of stuff going on here—first days are always the worst, so tomorrow should be better, right?” Mom said, her voice brightening. She always tried grabbing onto any silver lining in reach.
“Is Dad okay?” I hated how smal my voice sounded. He, my mother, any and al of us were only one wrong breath away from the end. It was scarier than anything Guil ermo del Toro could ever conjure up.
“Of course. He’s fine. It’s…a lot of to take in, but he’s fine.”
“And you?” I pressed.
“Both of us are fine, I swear, Mil ie.”
“You’d tel me if…” I didn’t want to finish the sentence but Mom knew what I meant. I could picture a smile softening her face.
“You know I would. That said,” she drew out, changing tones. “I do have a little bit more bad news. I got the groceries ordered and scheduled for delivery, but they won’t come til Thursday.”
It was Tuesday now.
“And I’m guessing you ate the leftovers for lunch?”
“Yeah…I could drive into town,” I offered. “Maybe pick up something.”
“We took separate cars today,” she said, nixing the idea. I glanced out the window, only now noticing the empty driveway. “In case our shifts ended at different times.”
“I don’t have money anyway,” I said, remembering my wal et. It was tucked away in my dresser drawer. I hadn’t touched it in weeks. What good was cash and a driver’s license when you couldn’t leave the house?
“Uh…” Mom went quiet for a moment, thinking through options. “Looks like delivery again. I’l cal that place we ordered from last night and see if they’l hold my card til you order. Whatever you want tonight. Go crazy, kid.” Guilt colored her voice.
“Should I get something for you guys? I don’t mind waiting til you’re home to eat.”
My stomach grumbled in protest.
“That’s sweet, but I don’t know when that’l be…The cafeteria here stays open til seven—or we’l get drive-through if it’s late. The world may be ending, but there’s always McDonald’s, right?” She laughed but it wasn’t as bright as before.
“Right.” I bit my lip, wanting to say more, but felt emptied of words.
“I should get going. My break is almost over. I’l cal the pizza place right now, though, okay?”
I nodded. “Thanks. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, Mil s.”
“I hope the rest of your shift goes—” The connection cut off before I could finish, and I set the heavy receiver back into its cradle with a click.
The sob escaped me as a swel of tears wet my eyes.
This sucked.
Al of it.
The cable guy, too scared to come inside.
The groceries that wouldn’t come til Thursday.
The silent, empty house. Mom and Dad should have been here. We should have al been piled around the dining room table, eager to hear about Mom’s first day, Dad eager to talk about whatever he’d written for his book.
I’d be eager about…something.
Maybe I’d have already met some people in the neighborhood.
Maybe I’d already have made a friend.
One whose face I could see.
But no.
I spotted my face mask on the counter and bal ed it in my hands, wanting to wring it out of existence.
This stupid, stupid virus. It was ruining everything.
The sound of ripped stitches stopped me cold. I’d torn off one of the elastic ear bands and its sad frayed edge sobered me up.
There were people al over the country, al over the world, who needed masks and I’d just destroyed one in a fit of petulant self-pity.
What kind of monster would do such a thing?
“A monster trapped in a house that’s not her home and can’t do anything for herself,” I muttered, slumping to the kitchen floor, spent. I leaned against a cabinet front, bumping my head on its trim with a deep sigh.
Mom said the cafeteria was open til seven. That meant she might conceivably stil be at the hospital at seven, sitting down for dinner, so she’d finish her shift…when?
I glanced at the clock on the stove. It was five-thirty now. Lunch seemed like days ago. I was crabby, tiptoeing on the edge of hangry.
I needed food.
Things always looked better when there was pizza.
Shoving off the floor, I swiped the Slice of Bliss magnet from the fridge, then turned to the rotary phone with trepidation.
I’d answered cal s from my parents on it throughout the day, but I hadn’t actual y made a cal myself. Poking my finger into the first numbered hole, I swiped the circle around, like I’d watched Mom do last night.
“Why are there so many zeros?” I muttered, waiting for the dial to swing back to its starting position. The last number final y clicked over.
“Slice of Bliss,” an older woman answered after two rings. In the background, I could hear the cheerful commotion of their kitchen and an acute flare of envy stabbed me. I real y did need to find Dad’s radio.
“Hi…um…this is Mil ie Woodruff. My mom was supposed to cal you guys to hold a credit card?”
“Just got off the phone with her, hon. What can I get you?”
“Um…a smal pepperoni pizza…with extra green peppers. Wait, medium,” I clarified, remembering I was also ordering tomorrow’s meals.
“And a thing of garlic knots.”
I could hear the scratch of her pencil as she wrote it al down. “Okay.
Should be there in about…forty minutes.”
“Thanks. Do you know…” I started, then trailed off as my face flushed red.
“Do I know?”
I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Do you know who wil be delivering it? Um. You know, for safety…stuff.”
There was a bark of laughter. “Luka wil be there in forty.”
The cal clicked off and a moment later, the unfamiliar and whol y annoying drone of the dial tone fil ed my ear. I went back to unpacking, a smile on my lips.
—
Forty-two minutes later, a beat-up silver station wagon pul ed up to the house and the same delivery guy hopped out.
Luka.
He had on another floral mask—red tulips this time—and it set off the blue of his eyes. Luka waved as he caught sight of me sitting on the porch steps, his arms impossibly long. Basketbal player arms. My heart skipped a proverbial beat.
Gosh, he was gorgeous.
Probably.
But it was sil y to ponder the mysteries beneath the mask. There was no way a guy like Luka didn’t already have a girlfriend.
Probably a cheerleader, and they’d kiss at center court after his games and everyone would pretend to be grossed out but you couldn’t truly hate on them because they were just too cute together.
Yup. Total y sil y.
“Were you timing me?” He checked his watch before grabbing the boxes from the passenger seat and shutting the door.
“Depends. Is there free pizza for me if you’re late?”
His eyes crinkled with an unseen smile and he shook his head. “Dad would have lost so much money when Kenny was delivering. Older brother,”