Open Wide: The Stories – Page 2 – iblamethequarantine

Cut, Scar.

*Note, the following post includes descriptions of self harm.

The pressure of the scissors relieves the inner turmoil, the blood makes a hypnotic pattern down my arm. Never deep enough to scar physically, always deep enough to scar emotionally.

The inner turmoil and worry creeps into my mind again, the voice whispers how useless I am. The tools I’ve worked so hard to learn, the effort I’ve made to “find my center, find my calm”, they’ve all been put to the test.

I have been put to the test again and again. Like a sand castle resisting the pressure of the tide I begin to crumble.

I look at the world and can’t help but see the school kids stuck at home with abusive caregivers, the children who have nothing to eat because their caregivers can’t afford food and they can’t get fed at school. The individuals being told they cannot spend time with loved ones who are dying. The individuals whose livelihood depends on making sales, on having folks walking into a store, what will happen to them all? How can we expect to recover from this?

The suffering is too great, the empathy too aware, how do I turn this off? I can’t resist any longer. The pressure builds, the sandcastle gives way, a rush of water recedes and what is left?

The pressure of the scissors, the hypnotic pattern of the blood. The immense guilt that I fell again. Day forty five clean from self harm becomes day zero. Tomorrow the tally marks begin again.

Day one free from self harm. I blame the quarantine.

—Moonlight Joy

Shattered

One of the reasons I selected the phrase I blame the quarantine for this project is that the quarantine is what fiction writers call a crucible, any external circumstance that heightens tension.

Time is often a crucible: 24 hours before the asteroid hits our planet; we have to build the asteroid destroyer FAST!

Setting is one too: A soon-to-be divorced couple gets stuck in an elevator between floors on the way to the lawyers’ office. “Why do you always have to push the button twice, always, always, always. Push, push, push. Well, you pushed me, didn’t you? Now look at us!”

Crucibles contain and tighten, things bubble and simmer, steam and stoke until BOOM! Shatter from the tension.

I don’t blame the quarantine for our country’s current shattering. A crucible takes time to build, and what’s happening now has been a long time coming, a long time contained — cities, civilization, citizens — smoldering, smoking, gasping for breath.

Gasping.

I wish peace to the families of those suffering under this new crisis. There will be many suffering. I weep for you and wish you well.

Here are some stories.

–KLB

Wind

Reduction. Nature is nothing more than one thing eating another. We got in trouble when we started to think of ourselves as something apart.

But then things like tornadoes remind us that nature is also physics, forces and vectors of rolling winds that scrape the earth. Elements at play, distant and without ego.

We had forty seconds before the tornado hit. Forty seconds to grab the children and the dog and worry about where the cat might be. Forty seconds to go downstairs to the first floor and turn the old glass knob as the howls grew, to push it down hard because the knob sticks and the door sticks. Forty seconds until our feet hit the first basement tread and we clutched the old cedar posts and the roof above was peeled away.

The next day was one of those improbably beautiful spring days. Pink tulip magnolias against the cerulean sky, with flecks of yellow insulation. Beauty follows tragedy, like after the last tornado. Like after the flood.

She coughed a lot as the insult of spring allergies rode in behind the winds. We chalked it up to rubble dust and pollen. Then the fever came and her breath went, her mouth moving like a carp gasping on the aluminum of our old canoe, the canoe we paddled through cypress glades, a fishing line drifting behind, the lure twisting in the slow wake.

I imagine beeps fill the air and hard plastic fills her throat, and her mouth gapes and panic fills her eyes. But I’m not allowed to hold her and I can’t see her face and I know she is dying without me. Who blames a virus? That’s just nature. This time I can’t find the beauty and for that I blame the quarantine.

–Jim Myers, Nashville, TN, “Nashville’s been dealing with the double hit of the tornado on March 3 and then the virus and the economy crash. I’m afraid we haven’t seen bottom yet. Thankfully love still abounds.”

The Other Shore

I blame it on the quarantine.It’s become part of what gets me to the bare crammed room. Every morning and evening, peeking out. Tiny yellow lights across back alley. Slight testimony of movement.

‘Did you notice that the kitchen across the way is more spacious than ours?’ I asked my partner who didn’t reply. She’s more like my mother, who doesn’t ask questions.

I feel a ghost line with that other square across the way, like it’s the only access I have to life outside. A life that doesn’t belong to me. I’m trying not to watch explicitly. A non-direct gaze in case they are looking my way.

Sometimes, I wonder if they notice the small irregularities of a stranger’s daily routine. My first attempt at an online Zumba class, flopping up and down on carpet. The amount of time I’m keeping here, staring at the surface of my laptop. Watching for illicit lovers sneaking past quarantine lines. I spend most of my time in a curled position, hunched over keyboard, staring up two monitors, squinting into setting light.

I wish we were friends. The woman in outline carrying a struggling baby, the man in view chopping. In another dream, we copy the Italian neighbors throwing windows open, singing for their healthcare workers, first responders, virus dispatchers. Pots and pans blasting. In this one, no one has turned on the light last night or this morning.

Yesterday, in a Zoom meditation, our bell master showed us one of the Thich Nhat Hanh’s calligraphy poems.“The Insight That Brings Us to the Other Shore.” I am waiting out the window, watching for a glimpse of another’s breath, another tiny shore.

Tonight, I’ll hope for the small light opening out of the corner of my eye. A hello.

–Ching-In Chen, Seattle, WA

What Stays

“Stay home for Nevada”. That has been our mantra for weeks now. So many new words and phrases have become part of our daily dialogue: COVID-19, Coronavirus, social distancing, panic buying, flatten the curve, shelter in place, fear, blame, PPE, shortages, need, scarcity. These words and phrases are all part of the new social discourse, the new normal.

In Las Vegas, once the party capitol of the world, our lavish casinos, hotels, shows, and restaurants sit alone, dark, empty, and hopeful for the return of our tourists and the workers who will serve them. People languish in homes waiting impatiently on food, alcohol, or weed delivery. Waiting for things to distract us from the end, the apocalypse. It looks like the world will go out with a whimper rather than a bang after all. This is the new normal.

These thoughts swirl through my mind as I go about my day, working from home, trying to fight the guilt I harbor. As a fat, middle age, female introvert, I am enjoying working from home and having an excuse to stay in and relax on the weekends. I have been released from having to try to live up to society’s expectations for what I should look like and it is Heaven. I have traded business casual for t-shits and leggings. I shower at night and just roll out of bed, with my hair sticking up everywhere, I have coffee, and then I log in for work. I have not tweezed my eyebrows in forever, my hair has sliver strands throughout, and my legs are starting to look like the desert cacti. It is wonderful! I have become a feral creature. I do not think it is possible to reintegrate into society. This is my new normal. I blame the quarantine.

–Kristen Johnson

Finished

The quarantine has brought the best out of all of us. It has brought out the best of nature. It has brought the best out of me. I have learned new skills. I actually like cleaning now. I like riding my bike on the streets. I like school a lot better, especially because I have learned to appreciate it.

Every day I wake up at 7:50 and start my day. I start by doing my bed, cleaning my room, waking up my siblings, brushing my teeth, taking a shower, eating, and doing my hair before online school at 9. At 11 I have a short 1-hour break where I usually walk my dog, eat and play outside. Then my classes start up again at 12 and finish at 2. Once I finish I usually eat, then create an online video that challenges me to do something new every day (I play Animal Crossing after because why not), this would take me an hour and thirty minutes. After this, I walk my dog again, listen to music, exercise for an hour, and then finally go to sleep at 10:00 pm. I wake up the next day and continue the schedule. 253 words.

Being stuck inside is very hard. But I have a lot to keep me busy. My daily schedule. Online Photography classes. Drawing. My dog. THE INTERNET.

Every time my mom is talking to someone during this crisis she says, “It’s a miracle! When they [Me, my sister (10) and my brother (8)] were in school, they would come home and fight! But now that they are with each other 24/7, they haven’t fought at all.” And it’s true. There may be bad things coming from this. Not being able to hang out with our friends, not being able to go to stores, not being able to go to school. But we also have to look at the positive things. The Ozone is getting cleaner, in Venice nature is coming back. We as kids have had more time to spend with our family.

I’m not saying that the quarantine is good. There are also bad things. People losing their jobs, etc. My aunts in Mexico have lost their jobs. And my brother’s birthday had to be canceled because of the quarantine. All I’m saying is that instead of looking down, lookup. The cup is not half empty, it’s half full. 455 words.

My name is Jescenia Ramirez. My friends call me Jessie. I am 13 years old. Live in Richmond, California. And I blame the quarantine.

— Jessie Ramirez, I found out about this challenge through one of my teachers. I am only in 7th grade. I love writing, drawing, photography, and music, but can never keep to my projects. I wanted to do this one and finish.

Social Club

I still have four bosom friends from high school. Back then, the SC, as we called ourselves, short for Social Club, started a tradition of gathering for round robin dinners. The idea is that each person is responsible for part of a meal. You go house to house and dine and drink. In high school, we actually did the house-to-house thing because we all lived closed enough to each other. Our parents got a great kick out of it.

As we got older and moved away from each other, we started giving the dinners themes. The best ones had natural fours to them: For example, the elements

Lisa –earth, Mississippi mud pie;

Sue – air-puffed cheese filo triangles;

Judy – water-homemade soup;

Me – fire-flaming shish-kabab.

You get the idea. Other themes we’ve used include the seasons, colors, numbers, cities we currently live in, countries, holidays, movie genres, festivals, years in high school (for our 10-year high school reunion). The list is pretty long.

We have gathered around the country for over 30 years to celebrate birthdays and pregnancies, marriages and jobs, often, although not always, creating these fantastic meals (except for theme Terribly Tacky, bleh, Jello with carrot bits) for each other. Tasting together, preparing for mutual piquancy, sourness, sweetness, even bitterness, they’re the metaphors for our long relationships, which have had their ups and downs as any long-standing friendship does.

We planned to meet this summer to celebrate double nickels, 55, in Lake Geneva, WI. Talking about whether or not to gather has caused us to video-conference from the four states we live in: Rhode Island, Colorado, Illinois, Minnesota. Gathering in person this year seems hard though. Wearing masks while we cook for each other, staying 6 feet from each other in a rented condo, two of us flying to get to our destination.

Whether or not we gather this year, I realize how hard it would be for a group of friends in high school to create such a tradition in a pandemic. Yes, they can do it virtually, but how to taste each other’s food. High schoolers are looking forward to finishing for the summer, some finishing their high school careers under pretty lousy conditions.

Yet what I find from the flashes sent to me is that there is a pretty sophisticated understanding of our current situation from young folks. They’re putting up with, getting on with, taking advantage of, empathizing, lamenting, thanking, and dreaming. I wonder if I would have been as mature.

Here are youth flashes from Clarksburg, WV; Norman and Oklahoma City, OK; Cleveland, OH; Skowegan, ME.

–KLB

Summerfest, Milwaukee, 2017 – Last S.C. Live Gathering

The Cut

Snip. Snap. Hair falls in small wet clumps. A bead of water slowly rolls down my forehead. Small sharp strands poke everywhere, mostly around my neck. Snip. Snap. I stay as still as a statue. My joints are made of marble. I resist the urge to twitch, or move my hand to seek some relief from the itchy strands. Snip. And a pause. A sweet smell hits my nose as she leans forward. Another drop rolls off my bangs. Snap. A word of self-doubt. I return a word of confidence in a quiet voice hiding the fading hope. Snip. Snap. A step back. My eyes study the scrunched up face. I shift, my back aches from the kitchen chair. She leans forward and the smell hits me again. Snap. One more peak of wet dark hair tumbles to rest on my white shirt, dotted with dark clumps and wet drops. A small mirror in my hand and two eyes studying my face. I beat back a double take and drag a smile forward. The two eyes are asking me. I push the retreating smile back in front. I thank them and tell them I love them. She smiles, satisfied, and turns away. Quickly I look again. The hair pokes with a new viciousness. I blame the quarantine.

–Matush Prokop. I am a senior at Skowhegan Area High School in Skowhegan, Maine.

Patient and Creative

We are living in a pandemic situation, the CDC (Center for Disease Control) calls the Coronavirus. I am 14 years old and the closest I have ever been to a pandemic was watching movies. Suddenly, people everywhere are wearing masks, practicing safe distancing and watching what they touch. A typical trip to the store is no longer normal as businesses run out of stock items, customers hoarding toilet paper and tempers are flaring. Confusion, fear, and worry are replacing the happy smiles of the general public. How many times do I touch my face each day? Is that person infected as I back up from their raspy cough? Are there enough tests? This whole quarantine thing is starting to get old.

My family has health conditions that make them vulnerable to this unseen potential killer. A parent on the hospital quarantine ward brought this virus to a serious level in our house. Thankfully the test was negative and they returned home in a couple of days. For me the hardest part was having spring break turning into an isolating struggle, no longer being able to hang out with my friends at school and gossip over the latest horror story of public shame. Now I am reduced to texting and the occasional phone call.

Just the other day, my girlfriend came to give me souvenirs from her recent trip to California. We could not even come in contact, her parents drove her to my house and I stood inside, behind a glass door and watched as she set the gift down. Before she ran off, we stood there for a minute, realizing this was a new normal and cried about it.

Everyone tells me to blame China. I can’t even go to the store to get a dang video game, because apparently video games are now a “Non-essential item” and the aisles are completely blocked off. My generation is used to the speed of technology and instant pleasure, now we are forced to be patient and creative. I blame the quarantine.

–T. Branham, Norman, OK; sent by his Grandmother Jean Wood

Believe

I blame the quarantine, I have been out of school I believe since the 19^th of March two days earlier than the Coronavirus 19 because I wasn’t feeling to well. Than all of a sudden the world was shutting down before my eyes at 1^st I thought it was a joke not real I kept telling my granny and mom this is not that serious its fake.

Well I was mistakenly wrong my mom & grandma job shut down my mom was fortunate enough to be able to work from home. Schools around Ohio shut down than I was told that we had a stay at home order in the back of my mind me being me still didn’t believe this virus was hurting and killing people, I kept saying it’s just like the Flu so why are we shutting everything down. Then I started seeing people wearing mask outside on TV, I think I started to really believe when my cousins one in college & one in high school didn’t like the past classes that was wrong in my mind and sad. The few times that I had to go out which was in the car only I noticed the streets the city was like dead no one was really out not that many cars on the street. I also started to believe and feel bad because my mom told me how many people lost their jobs and couldn’t feed their families & finally when my school announced that we would have to finish school online through google class room. I also seen people in long lines waiting for food in their cars, I guess you have to count your blessing because my house was very blessed not to experience that type of lost. To see the numbers of all the lives that were lost people not able to live normal and see there families as they wish is very believable and hurt broken and I hope this all go away very soon I blame the quarantine.

–Joseph P Armstrong III, Creative Writing Class, Teacher Alexandra Cardille, 10th Grade, North Eastern Ohio Prep, Cleveland, Ohio