Then Everything Happens at Once, page 20
I tiptoe on through to the kitchen, keeping an eye on things. I down a glass of orange juice, watching as a look of desperation settles on the nurse’s face, making her eyebrows scrunch in the middle. She tries suctioning Rebecca’s mouth every couple of minutes, which just makes Rebecca try to hit herself in the face in frustration. I used to just walk on by and not pay attention when I was little, because they’re the experts and I was supposed to be in bed.
I head over and grab the air compressor, the small machine that pushes air out of a thin tube for Rebecca’s breathing treatments. When I flip the switch, the loud rumbling instantly startles her into quieting, and her interest is piqued.
“If she cries a lot like that, just turn this thing on and put it close,” I say, placing the compressor into her crib. “We hook the tubing into her hand like this. She likes to play with it.”
“It’s so loud,” the nurse says.
“I know, but she likes it,” I say. “And we’re so used to the noise, so it’s not like turning it on at four a.m. would even bother me or my mom. The crying, though—that’s hard to ignore.”
Rebecca is quiet, holding still as she listens to the rumbling. Seconds later, a smile appears, and she starts smacking her hand on the pillow while holding the plastic tubing.
“Thank you,” the nurse says. “What a great tip.”
“You’re new.”
“The agency wasn’t able to set me up with another nurse to give me proper orientation to work here,” the nurse says. “I don’t really know much about your sister beyond the medical details.”
“The main things to know are that she can be really moody, and there are things she just hates. When she cries too much, she starts choking on her saliva and then everything goes to hell from there.”
I launch into a spiel about Rebecca’s likes and dislikes, sharing tips, and the nurse actually takes notes with a pen and notepad. Rebecca is now having a total giggling fit.
“And sometimes you just have to leave her alone,” I say. “Trying to help just makes it worse. You can try Tylenol, too, if nothing else works. Especially if she makes this face—” I make a grimace, scrunching up my nose and squinting my eyes. “That usually means she’s uncomfortable. The nose crinkling is how you know something hurts.”
The nurse writes down these final details, then she watches Rebecca.
“I can’t believe that worked so well, with the compressor,” the nurse says. “I think I’ll go get her formula ready now, since she’s okay.”
I make my way up the stairs, noticing my mother sitting on the top step, clearly eavesdropping on the new nurse. When I reach her, she scoots over so I can get by, grabbing my arm as I go.
“You’re a very good daughter,” Mom says.
“I have my moments,” I say. “Are you going to keep spying?”
“For a little while longer,” she says. “I come and go, just to check.”
“How come you’re letting new people in here all of a sudden?”
Mom sighs. “I have no choice. They approved the school hours to become day hours at home, but now they’ve got to get a whole bunch of new nurses trained. It was either that or have no nurse at all.”
“Do I have to wear a mask in the house?”
“Don’t even get me started on that. I was texting with Dawn,” Mom says, referring to my sister’s main nurse, who’s been coming here a long time, “and she says the ones who make decisions about how things are handled can’t even agree on how you catch it. Is it in the air? Is it in snot and saliva?”
“In the air? Like, we’d have to wear hazmat suits, like apocalypse, zombie, CDC suits?”
“Boss, at this point, who knows?” she says. “The second you feel a scratchy throat or a runny nose, then you’ll want to wear a mask so you can keep those germs to yourself.”
I’m about to keep going up to my room, but then I add, “We really should be writing something up with all this information about Beck. We know every little thing about her, but they don’t.”
“You’re right,” Mom says. “You want to write it? I’ll pay you if you make it look nice on the computer.”
I nod, considering. “I guess I could do that.”
When I get to my room, Alex has DMed me some sweet words.
[Baylee] I wish we could see each other.
[Alex] Me 2. U have no idea.
[Baylee] Well, why can’t we?
[Alex] . . .
[Baylee] We could stand six feet apart.
[Alex] U really think that would work? U think I wouldn’t be marching right up 2 u? I’ve just been thinking about kissing u since the last time it happened.
Butterflies. A thousand butterflies.
[Baylee] Me too. Would it really be such a big deal? Pen and Blake are together.
[Alex] Trust me, I want to so bad. But ur sister could really get sick, right? Why would u want to take a chance like that?
She’s right, but it’s not what I wanted to hear. I feel foolish for suggesting it in the first place, now that she’s pointed out how dumb I am, so I don’t respond for a while.
Garrett’s DM request is still sitting there, waiting to be acknowledged or deleted. He’s added another message.
[Garrett] Come on, B. Don’t leave me hanging!
My mind shifts into focus, retrieving Pen’s words. The curiosity leads my fingers to the virtual keyboard.
[Baylee] Hi.
[Garrett] Hey hey
[Baylee] I saw you outside earlier. Were you meeting friends? Are you allowed?
[Garrett] Nah. I was getting out of the house for a bit. Although if I felt like seeing friends, I would.
[Baylee] Oh.
[Garrett] Were you gonna call the cops on me?
[Baylee] I might do that next time.
[Garrett] Next time, you should come hang out. I’ll give you a smoke.
It’s not my imagination, the thrilling sensation building within, thinking about the possibility of Garrett hoping to see me. It’s shameful, nothing to ever be admitted out loud, but that feeling I have inside—it’s very there.
What’s that about? What’s wrong with me?
Now I wish he would talk to me, but he’s gone quiet, and I have nothing to say to him.
[Baylee] R u up?
[Freddie] Always.
[Baylee] How are you?
[Freddie] I am wondering why you’re not over at my house right now.
[Baylee] Well, what would we be doing right now . . . if I was at your house?
[Freddie] You want me to go into details?
[Baylee] Yes. I mean, if you want.
[Freddie] I definitely want.
There are so many things I’d never admit to out loud. I thought I was a pretty decent person, but I’m starting to think that maybe I’m not.
I’m addicted to all the things that are happening.
Were happening.
Nothing is happening now. Just talking to people online, looking at them through a screen, typing about all the things I wish I could be doing.
[Freddie] Come over.
[Baylee] I want to.
But I can’t. I shouldn’t. Or maybe I could?
Thirty-Three
April starts with a lot of sunshine and warmer weather, and the news keeps repeating the same things, at least for where I live: people must be two meters apart from everyone except those they live with. Going outside seems to be bordering on illegal. All public outdoor areas are closed. Only essential outings are permitted. Exercise means going for a quick walk alone—no friends, no stopping to say hi to your neighbor, no hanging outside a coffee shop. Basically just walking your dog super quickly is the only outdoor activity that’s sure to look appropriate. If I had a dog, I’d walk it all the way over to Freddie’s.
Our houses are prisons with unlocked doors.
It’s early afternoon and I’m DMing with Alex.
[Alex] Tonight is my first virtual therapy session. Seems super weird that I’ll be sitting in my aunt’s garage, talking at my phone.
[Baylee] How long is the session?
[Alex] 60 minutes.
[Baylee] Do you know what you’re going to be talking about? How does that work?
[Alex] I can come in with topics I want to discuss, but a lot of the time, Kristy will start with the gist of what we were going over the previous session, and she’ll ask me how that’s going now.
I wonder if Alex ever talks about me to her therapist.
[Alex] You want to hear something that’s kind of weird?
[Baylee] ???
[Alex] We’re sort of in a long-distance relationship, u and me.
[Baylee] You’re so close, though.
[Alex] I know. I hate this.
[Baylee] I hate it, too. I wish I could just sit across from u, even with 2 meters apart.
[Alex] Two meters would still feel too far, though.
[Baylee] I don’t really want to just be seeing you through a screen.
[Alex] Maybe things will get better in a couple weeks. We can wait, right?
Someone different could wait. The old me could wait forever. I haven’t seen Alex in more than two weeks. It’s not that much time, but it feels like forever. What if two more weeks just keep getting added on and it never ends?
I send my mother a text.
[Baylee] Can I do therapy?
[Mom] What are you talking about?
[Baylee] My friend sees a therapist because her dad’s work benefits cover it.
A couple of minutes later, Mom knocks on my door and opens it when I say, “Yeah?”
“What’s this therapy thing, Boss?”
“Why do you look all worried?” I say.
“Therapy is serious. I think I should know what’s making you suddenly ask for that. What’s going on?”
“It’s not even serious, Mom.” I am cross-legged on my bed in pajamas, hugging my pillow, while Mom takes a seat at my desk. “It’s not like I’m having a breakdown or something. I just have a friend who sees a therapist, and she says it’s a really good thing.”
“Who is this friend?”
“Just this girl I met.”
“Met where? School?”
“No. Bookworm,” I say. “Anyway, she was telling me about it, and I thought it sounded cool. Plus . . . it’s not like there’s anything else to do.”
Mom studies me for a minute. “You would tell me if anything was going on, right?”
I roll my eyes. “Just forget it, then.”
I focus on my phone, scrolling through my Instagram feed but not taking in any of the posts. Mom pushes to her feet.
“I’ll look into it,” she says.
“Hey, Mom?” I say, and she nods. “What happens to people who still hang out?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, say Lara and Trey were still dating, and they went to each other’s houses?”
“Well, they would be careless idiots.”
I sigh. “I mean, like . . . would they get arrested?”
“Well, no,” Mom says. “But they could be fined, maybe.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know all the bylaws, Boss,” Mom says, a little annoyance creeping into her tone. “It doesn’t matter, does it? You should all be staying home, regardless of whether there’s a fine involved or not. The whole country is being told to stay home and stay away from others to help flatten the curve, so that’s what we should do. Tell Lara it’s not worth it.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Mom leaves, and I head for my nail supplies. While a playlist of cheeseball songs I used to love when I was like, fourteen fills my room, I give myself a fresh manicure. My hands are so steady that the end result almost looks professional. I pull out my journal, feeling a sense of excitement at the thought of pouring my feelings out onto the page, knowing I’ll have the added bonus of being able to admire my shiny red nails as I write. Most of what I write is about wishing I could somehow experience looking at myself through Alex’s eyes, through Freddie’s eyes, through Garrett’s eyes, even. Just for a minute. Just enough for it to click inside. It’s like if I could see myself from other perspectives—all three of them mashed together—then maybe I’d feel steadier in my own shoes.
[Freddie] Come meet me.
Freddie wants to see me badly enough to break the rules. Knowing that makes my stomach somersault. It makes me reach for pink, shiny gloss so I can raise an eyebrow and pout at myself in the mirror while rereading his text.
[Baylee] I so wish I could.
[Freddie] Why can’t you?
He wants me enough to risk it all, but there’s a little fear and resistance inside me suddenly. There was no hint of this when I was silently begging for Alex to demand to see me, but then again, she wasn’t asking, so it wasn’t real.
[Baylee] What if I got my sister sick?
[Freddie] You can’t get her sick through me.
[Baylee] How do you know?
[Freddie] I’ve been at home with my mom and sister since Kingston. My mom works from home now and Shaya’s out of day care. No one’s been here.
[Baylee] Well, what if I gave you the virus?
[Freddie] You’re not gonna get me sick. You’re home all the time, too.
[Baylee] . . .
[Freddie] Do you know what Matt and the rest of the hockey team have been up to?
Of course I know. The rules are more like guidelines, and people are finding all kinds of ways around them. I see the posts online—I know some of the other people in my class have gotten away with a lot. Strictness looks different depending on which parents you ended up with. My mother’s gotten in my head, the whole “keep two meters apart” thing starting to feel like a law.
[Baylee] How are you going to leave your house?
[Freddie] What do you mean? I’m going to take my keys and go.
[Baylee] 🙄
[Freddie] I told my mom I’m going for a drive. You can say you’re going out for a walk. No one needs to know we’re going together.
[Baylee] I don’t know . . .
[Freddie] It feels like I haven’t seen you in years, Bay.
Part of me has already jumped out the window to go to him. I just have to get my feet to move.
[Baylee] Where are we supposed to go?
[Freddie] Let’s go to the bridge. No one will see us there.
[Baylee] . . .
[Freddie] OK. Forget it. I won’t keep pressuring you. I’m here if you change your mind.
[Baylee] Wait! Don’t go.
[Freddie] I didn’t go anywhere.
[Baylee] You’re not sick, right?
[Freddie] I have zero symptoms. I’ve seen no one. We get our groceries delivered and my mom makes me wipe the rona off everything with Lysol.
[Baylee] OK.
[Freddie] OK?
[Baylee] Yes. Give me an hour.
Under an hour later, just before four, I’ve inched my way down the stairs, carefully timing my steps for whenever it was my mother’s turn to talk so her voice would camouflage any sound I made. I flatten myself against the wall at the bottom of the stairs while I wait for her to find somewhere to settle. She’s whipping from living room to kitchen, putting things away, checking on Beck, and making tea, judging by the sound of the kettle’s hiss. Before the kettle is quieted, I rush to the front entrance and scoop up a pair of suede boots with a thick heel.
Upstairs, I left a big lump under my covers made with an old comforter that’s usually tucked away on the top shelf of my closet. It’s probably a dumb idea, but it works in movies.
Outside, Freddie is idling at the curb in front of my neighbor’s. I slip into my boots and make my escape.
“Hurry, the neighbors will call the cops if they see!” Freddie calls from the driver’s seat.
“Oh, shut up.”
Freddie hits the gas, although not as much as he normally would. We drive in silence, his rock tunes flowing out of the speakers. We drive, and I steal glances at his hand, his arm, his face.
I pull my eyes away long enough to send my mother a text.
[Baylee] I’m going to take a nap. I’m kind of tired.
[Mom] Want me to wake you for dinner?
[Baylee] No. I’ll come down when I wake up.
Freddie is next to me, and his cologne is everywhere. Even if this is illegal, it’s worth it. I just don’t care about anything else right now. The glances I steal at him lead to the kind of thoughts girls are supposed to be ashamed of. All I want is to take things from him that I’m supposed to pretend I don’t want or need.
We park the car behind Zippy Mart and JJ Pizza so it won’t be seen from the road. The lot is empty, but both stores are open because food is essential. We make our way through the tall dead grass, following the creek to where it passes underneath the bridge.
“I give the universe a bucket of gratitude for the fact that this place is deserted,” Freddie says.
There’s fresh garbage around the makeshift bonfire site in the shadows, so people have definitely been here, which means they could come back.
“Let’s walk farther down,” Freddie says.
Stones and broken glass feel sharp against the soles of my suede boots, throwing me off-balance. Freddie comes up next to me, giving me his hand for support. The physical connection between us eases some of the antsy sensations I was struggling with.
Just as quickly, I wish he’d touch me again.
The other side of the bridge is mainly a forest. To the left, through the trees, is a newer subdivision, and to our right the path breaks through to a field that eventually becomes the grounds of an elementary school. Ahead of us, the creek keeps going through the trees. It’s kind of pretty with those old trees creating a canopy above us. We’ve never gone out this far.
“You know what we never talked about?” I ask.
“What’s that?”
