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Then I called Mickey, who was building model planes in his childhood room as if he was still eight years old. I guess he was really getting into the whole idea of living with his parents again. At least he seemed happy about it, unlike me.
John was next on my list of people to call, but he didn’t answer. He’d been shacking up with Zoe and I was quite sure they were turning this quarantine into a fuck fest.
Will call back later, he texted me after a minute. I’m a bit preoccupied…
Yeah, yeah, I thought, feeling a little jealous.
I didn’t want it to knock me out of my relaxed mood though so I didn’t text him back. I was just about to get into a groove and watch some online lectures to keep up with my schoolwork, when I could hear someone gently knock at my door.
“Excuse me, Phil?” asked Richard, my stepfather.
“Yeah, what?” I responded.
“Family meeting in ten minutes. You decent?”
“Yeah.”
He opened the door.
I was still in my underwear.
“I thought you were decent.”
“I’m always decent, Richard.”
“Well, put on some pants, please. We’re having a family meeting,” he repeated.
“I heard you. Why can’t you just tell me whatever it is you want to tell me?” I asked.
“Because we’re all going to be living here and it’s easier if we talk as a group, okay? Now come on, please?”
“All right, all right,” I relented.
“Now, please.”
“You said ten minutes.”
“Oh, right. I did. Ten minutes.”
Jeez, this guy forgets what he said thirty seconds later. Guess he’s just nervous being here. Hope no one’s infected yet. What a nightmare if we all get it. Then it’s off to the hospital to what, be put on a respirator, I guess.
At least I wouldn’t have to listen to Richard’s bullshit for a while.
I put on some pants, brushed my teeth and then went downstairs. Mom, Richard and Tracianne were already sitting at the kitchen table.
Traci had one of those plastic cups with a straw. Not the kind you’d get at McDonald’s or something, but one of those high-end store-bought ones. You know, the straw was reusable, and you had to wash it.
She just sat there, occasionally sucking on it and playing with the straw with her tongue.
What’s her deal?
“Okay, everyone,” Richard began. “First of all, glad you’re both safe. Thanks for being here. I expect the smoothest of stays, right, Phil?”
“What? What did I do?” I objected.
Tracianne put her hand up and started smiling.
She was enjoying this.
“Nothing, I’m just trying to stave off trouble,” Richard said.
“You’re challenging me like I did something wrong,” I said. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Not saying you did.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem and I don’t want there to be one,” Richard repeated, again making me feel like he was blaming me for something.
“It’s fine, Phil. We all just want to get along, right?” my mom asked.
I could tell she really wanted to make this work.
For her, I sucked it up.
“Yeah, sure,” I muttered.
“Good,” she said, smiling.
Tracianne was grinning with glee. What the hell was wrong with her? So petty.
“We’re planning on shopping in rotation,” Richard explained.
“What good will that do?” I asked.
“It’ll keep some of us from getting infected,” Richard pointed out.
“Yeah, but the virus has a two-week incubation period. Unless you’re going to stay away for over 14 days, it’s not going to matter if you end up coming back to the house,” I pointed out.
“We still think it’s best.”
“But it’s not doing anything.”
“Phil,” Mom said, warning me.
“Ma, it doesn’t. Think about it.”
“Okay, you made your point, Phil,” said Richard. “But we’re doing it anyway. It will cut down on the number of people in the stores and on our chances of getting and spreading it to people.”
I threw up my hands. I had tried to say my piece, but they had just ignored me. This sucked.
Speaking of which, Tracianne was smiling at me with the straw in her mouth. She was clearly overjoyed that I was frustrated. What a weird chick. Hot as hell, but weird.
“Is there anything else either one of you want from the store?” Mom offered.
I threw out my food list. Tracianne added a few things. She was playing innocent.
Is she bipolar? I wondered.
She wanted a bunch of food that was all diet, of course. She probably never ate anything that actually tasted good, now that I thought about it.
Mom and Richard headed out. He looked at the list of food on his phone and made a face.
He was probably editing my request. I got the sense that he was like that.
He had to be the smartest guy in the room, with complete control over everything.
“Oh, you didn’t need that junk.”
I can just hear it now.
The door shut and I was left sitting at the kitchen table with the brat.
“Smooth sailing, Phil,” she repeated.
“That’s not what he said, dumbass,” I corrected.
