by J. Bengtsson
Lockdown – Day 10
“Keith?”
The door was slightly ajar, so I pushed it open, only to find Kali’s Surf and Skate shop empty of all human life.
“Sam?”
Nothing. This wasn’t right. After leaving my parents, I’d texted Keith and he’d directed me here, where he said they were doing work on the shuttered store. But now that I was here, my brother was nowhere to be found. Most people would take one of two approaches to a situation like this. The first would be to venture further into the store and search for clues. The second would be to back slowly out of the door and call the cops.
But if you’re me—the youngest boy of five brothers—you prepare for combat.
I didn’t have long to wait. From behind a rack of clothes, my nephew Thomas was pushed out into the open in his Gerber baby walker, and as he rolled across the floor unattended, I knew I’d just walked head-on into an ambush.
Springing into action, I raced for cover behind the counter, but it was too late. NERF gun dart pellets began to fly from all directions. My other nephew, the one who could walk and talk, came out from behind the counter and fired at me. Like a superhero, I deflected the pellet shots with my arms as I advanced on my little foe. Wyatt panicked, dropped his weapon, and ran. But, as luck would have it, one of my steps equaled eighteen of his itty-bitty ones, and I easily caught up to him, scooping my kicking and screaming nephew into my arms and blowing raspberries into his neck.
“Drop the boy!” my sister-in-law said, stepping out of the shadows and leveling her weapon at me. Sam was dressed in short shorts, flipflops, and a frilly boho shirt, with braids cascading down the sides of her head. Not exactly the trained assassin I’d been expecting, but no matter. It was what was in her hands that counted.
“Is that what I think it is?” I asked, stepping back with the squirming boy in my arms.
“It is,” she confirmed, squinting at me over the top of her toy assault rifle. “A Nerf Ultra One Motorized Blaster, capable of delivering a barrage of squishy darts with quick, pin-point accuracy. And right now, I’m aimed down.”
Our eyes met, and mine narrowed. “Oh, you’re playing hard ball.”
“Sure,” she smirked, her eyes traveling south. “If you say so.”
Ouch.
I scanned the perimeter, contemplating my options. I could surrender; but then I thought better of it. My adversaries were a surf bunny and two kids in diapers. I liked my chances. But there was still one wild card out there, and he was hiding somewhere in this store.
Keith.
He was known to play dirty. If I were to have any chance of winning, I’d have to fight fire with fire.
Slowly, I lowered Keith’s child to his feet and whispered in his ear. “I’ll give you a five-dollar bill if you go find your daddy for me right now.”
Wyatt’s eyes widened. If there was one thing my nephew liked better than sticking his finger up his nose, it was money. This was, after all, the kid who’d asked for a cash box for his third birthday. While most kids his age were playing Legos or ball, Wyatt was busy ringing up groceries on his kid-sized cash register. He had a whole shady shop set up in his house, where he totally overcharged his clients. I should know. I once paid $4 for a plastic lemon.
“Okay,” he whispered in that raspy voice I found so damn adorable. “For $5.”
Yep. It was a bargain. To get the kid to turn on his old man was worth ten times that much to me.
I slipped him the cash, and as he turned to leave, I grabbed his arm. “Hold on. Hug first.”
My nephew wrapped his little arms around me and squeezed tight before he took off toward the back of the store, outing my brother in a matter of seconds… with me right behind.
“Wyatt,” Keith complained, scrambling away as boxes went flying. “Come on. We talked about this. You can’t take bribes.”
But before my brother could fully form that last word, I tackled him to the ground. We struggled for possession of his Longstrike Nerf Modulus Toy Blaster with barrel extension, bipod, and scopes. That was some serious weaponry, but I managed to wrestle it out of his hands with relative ease.
“Uncle,” he yelled before I’d even had time to torture him with it. Disappointed, I settled for straddling his waist and slapping him silly.
“I said uncle, asshole,” he grumbled, worming out from under me. “Jesus, why do you always insist on disrespecting the uncle rule? It’s sacred.”
“I don’t know, Keith. Why do you always insist on rolling over onto your back like a wussy roly-poly?”
“Hey, I’m tired, all right?” Keith said, making excuses for his lackluster fighting skills as he got to his feet in a three-step process—knees, hands, toes.
“Oh, geez, Keith. I’m sorry,” I replied with mock pity. “I wouldn’t have been so rough with you had I known osteoporosis had already set in.”
“Shut up. I’m sleep deprived, and it’s slowing me down.”
“Oh, okay.”
“What?” Keith said defensively. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for two vertical people to sleep in a queen-size bed with one horizonal three-year-old?”
“Okay, all done. No more bickering, boys.” Sam stepped in to give me a hug. “I missed you, Quinn. Sorry about pointing a revolver at your head.”
“No problem. Surprisingly, that wasn’t even the worst welcome I’ve had today.”
“Is it true Dad threatened to throw you into quarantine with the Hardy Boys?” Keith asked.
“Uh-huh. And he called me dirty,” I said, shaking my head at the memory. “Such a dick.”
Sam patted my shoulder. “Well, we don’t think you’re dirty here…”
“…any more than usual,” Keith added.
“Shush.” She smacked him. “And you’re totally welcome to stay with us… but there’s just one little snafu.”
“Snafu?” I questioned. “Is that the elephant on Sesame Street?”
“No, that’s Snuffleupagus,” Sam corrected. “Let me try that again. The problem is, you’ll have to sleep on the couch in the playroom.”
Keith held up a finger. “AKA—the living room, which is what it was called when we were cool.”
“Can’t I take one of the rooms?”
“Which one?” Keith asked. “Ours or the boys?”
“Wait… you only have two rooms?”
“Yes. See, unlike you, Quinn, we don’t have millions of dollars in the bank to buy you a comfortable guest bedroom.”
“Well, shit,” I sighed. “I’m going to have to buy you a bigger house.”
Keith laughed. “Be my guest.”
“Hey,” Sam piped in. “I thought you were quarantining with your girl?”
My girl. Yes, that had been the plan. “I was, when staying inside was still just a suggestion. But when the lockdown went into place, we decided she needed to be with her father. Now, I’ve been alone almost a week, and I’ve discovered I’m not meant for solitude.”
“Ah, that’s sad,” my sister-in-law replied. “Let me make up the couch, Quinn. It will be fun. Like camping.”
I was actually giving her offer some serious consideration when Keith delivered the final blow. “…until Wyatt opens up his store for the breakfast shoppers. That’s generally somewhere around 5:30am.”
“5:30 AM!” I shrieked. “Is he nocturnal?”
“Close,” Keith nodded, his eyes drooping. “Very, very close.”
“Ah, man. Thanks for the offer, Sam. But I’m going to Emma’s. She’s already a cesspool of germs… and has an empty house. How can that go wrong?”
Grace
Lockdown – Day 10
Seconds after turning the water off, I heard his voice. Quinn. Why didn’t he tell me he was coming? I stuck my head out of the shower door.
“Forget this shit,” I heard him say. “I’m going over to Keith and Sam’s house. No way would they turn me away. Keith’s the dirtiest human I know.”
No! Don’t leave. I thou
ght, hastily squeezing the water from my dripping hair and wrapping it in a towel before stepping out onto the bathmat. But the instant my foot hit the fluffy rug, the front door slammed shut. Ah, man. Leave it to Quinn to stomp off in a huff. He’d always been the impulsive type.
Grabbing another towel, I held it in front of my naked body as I trotted to the window. Quinn was already opening his car door. No. No. No. When multiple attempts to slide open the window failed, I took to banging on the glass with open palms like a hostage pleading to be set free. But Quinn didn’t hear, nor did he see; and, with water pooling around my feet, I watched as he drove away.
“Quinn,” I said, shaking my head as I picked up my phone and dialed his number. One ring. Two. “Answer the phone, dude.”
My call went to voicemail.
I wasn’t letting him go that easily. I was the type of person who always felt happiest when I had the whole herd huddled around me. But right now, half of us were still grazing in the field. With the virus and the fate of everyone’s health on the line, I felt an urgency to draw them in. Starting with wayward Quinn.
Letting the towel drop to the ground, I hastily chose my outfit for the day from the garments lying over my chair. These were recycled clothes that had been previously worn but that weren’t dirty enough for the laundry bin… or the floor. In the era of coronavirus, minimal effort was the most I was willing to give, and it showed.
It was hard to believe that I’d been home for a little over three weeks now. After my graduate program switched to online learning, there seemed no reason not to travel back to California and hunker in place with my favorite people. I’d learned at a young age never to take family for granted, and that was truer now than ever before. I’d only second-guessed my decision to come home once… okay, maybe twice… but that was all. See, a house full of adults was an entirely different story than a houseful of kids, and when they started outnumbering the adults, that was when the whole second-guessing came into play. And it was why getting Quinn home was so important to me. He’d tip the scale in our favor—another fully formed brain to talk to.
Certainly I couldn’t rely on my father for that adult conversation. He was never without his entourage of tiny humans. In fact, his influence on them was just as pronounced as theirs was on him, and I watched as my father’s internal clock began to unwind, Benjamin Button style. His voice dropped to kid-friendly levels, and he spent an unfathomable amount of time planning pint-size adventures for his beloved grandchildren. If there was a poker game to be played, he was the dealer. If there was a food fight to be had, he’d be the one to cast the first carrot. And if there was an 80’s prom to be attended, he was the one high up on the ladder adding the twirling disco ball to the festivities.
I brushed my unruly hair up into a ponytail and pulled it through the back of a baseball cap before poking my head out the door. All clear. I sighed in relief. See, my parents not only had strict rules for coming into the house, but also strict ones for going out. If I wanted to leave, I’d have to do it undercover.
Sneaking down the stairs, I passed my dad dealing cards in the dining room while teaching Jake’s oldest son how to burp with his whole gut. Then I passed the kitchen, where my mom and sisters-in-law were deep in conversation about my brothers, Jake and Kyle. No one noticed me slip out the back door, hop in my car, and drive out of the main gate.
Using the Snap Maps to easily pinpoint Quinn’s location, I followed him to Keith’s surf shop, hoping to lure him back home. But just as I was about ten minutes away, Quinn left the shop, driving northeast and in the direction of Emma’s house. Had Keith turned him away too? Poor guy. He had to be extra salty by now. No doubt I had my work cut out for me.
Undeterred, I took the next exit and followed his path. It wasn’t until my brother pulled off into a shopping center parking lot that I finally got the guy pinned down. Pulling up next to his car, I donned a mask and went in search of my brother. I found him lurking in the liquor section of a pharmacy.
Hiding behind a display, I disguised my voice and hummed in my best creeper voice. “Ooh, yes, you’re just a delicious hunk of man, aren’t you? I could drink you right up.”
Quinn froze, whiskey bottle in hand, refusing to look my way. Clearly, he thought me a stalker, and I didn’t give him any reassurance to believe otherwise.
“You’re Quinn McKallister, right?” I continued in my best husky seductress voice. “You want to come home with me? I’ll give you a safe word.”
“You’ve got the wrong guy,” Quinn replied, replacing the whiskey on the shelf, and I could tell by his body language that he was preparing to bolt.
“I don’t think so,” I stepped out of the shadows. “Aren’t you the guy who thought Pokémon creatures were real way longer than you should have, even asking for the live versions of Charmander and Pikachu for your seventh birthday?”
Quinn turned toward me, recognition dawning on him. A smile slowly spread across his face as he shrugged. “Keith told me there was a Pokémon farm in Bakersfield. I thought they were adoptable, like puppies.”
“Oh, I know what you thought. It’s all you talked about for months,” I said.
Amused, his eyes traveled the length of me. “You look absolutely hideous.”
“Thank you. And you look like a hopeless drunk in need of his next fix.”
“I’m going to Emma’s,” he replied, as if that were explanation enough why he needed a bottle of whiskey at his disposal.
“Did Mom and Dad let you out on good behavior?” Quinn asked.
“No, I snuck out.”
“Ooh, Gracie’s a rebel now. I like it!”
“Let’s not get crazy here. I just needed a breather.”
“From what?”
“Quarantine. The kids. Dad,” I confessed.
“What’s wrong with Dad?”
“Nothing. In fact, he’s great— having the time of his life playing with the kids. Yesterday he put on the Olympics for them. The Olympics! He built little podiums and everything.”
“Damn. I wish he’d put that much effort into us when we were kids,” Quinn commented, somewhat off topic.
“Yeah, well, if you’ll remember correctly, we were sort of going through a crisis back then. Not to mention he was working two jobs so Mom could stay home with Jake. He didn’t really have time for fun.”
Quinn nodded, looking to the ground. “I get it. But still, we got screwed.”
“It was a different time.” I shrugged, not wanting to acknowledge that this was why I was frustrated by Dad’s interest in his grandkids. It wasn’t the sweetness of the grand gestures that bothered me. It was that he hadn’t done them for me… or for Quinn.
Normally, I didn’t allow negative thoughts to take over, but there was something about being with Quinn that brought out the nostalgia in me. And while I believed my childhood had made me a stronger person, Quinn had an entirely different outlook. He considered our shared past a crutch, something to lean on and blame in times of trouble.
“I think of it this way,” I said, taking a deep breath and committing to my words. “How many people had a childhood like we did? It was definitely a wild ride. And that makes us unique.”
“Tell that speech to your little girl self, Grace. She might not have the same opinion.”
We stared each other down. With us, no words were really needed. After the kidnapping, we’d leaned on Emma for support, but once she’d gone off to college a year and a half later, and with Mom and Dad busy caring for Jake—and Kyle and Keith—that left me and Quinn to essentially fend for ourselves. And that was what we’d done. It felt like we’d been relying on each other our whole lives.
“I’ve missed you, Quinn.”
“I’ve missed you too, Gracie-bear,” he said, slinging his arm over my shoulder. “You’re the whole reason I tried to come home. I wanted to hang with you, but Mom and Dad insisted on imprisoning me.”
“No, they didn’t,” I replied. “They want you home, bu
t they also want to keep everyone safe. If you follow their rules, you can come home, Quinn.”
“Uh, yeah,” he scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
“I’ll quarantine with you.”
“In the craft room?”
“No, in my room—well, not my room. I came home before everyone else moved in, and Mom wanted me to have a comfortable, quiet place to study, so she gave me the giant guest room with the kitchenette and the fenced in patio. We could quarantine together there.”
“You’d do that?” he asked, and I could see my gesture meant something to him.
“Heck, yeah. We’ll have them bring in another bed. During the days, I’ll study and you’ll do… whatever the hell rock stars do. During the nights, we’ll binge watch all the shows we’ve never seen.”
“And in the morning, we’ll make waffles?” Quinn said, using his best Shrek donkey voice.
“Yeah, sure. Lots of waffles. It’ll be fun—like old times.”
I could almost see Quinn’s mind exploring the possibilities.
“And, the best part is,” I said, excitement building as I used every weapon in my arsenal, “Jake and Kyle will be out of isolation soon, and then we can all be together. It’ll be like a giant sleepover. What do you say?”
Quinn stood there, his eyes shifting between the bottle of whiskey, which represented endless cleaning at Emma’s house, and me—his little sister and best friend. I knew which one he’d choose even before he did.
“I’m down,” he said, grabbing an extra bottle off the shelf. “But I’m going to need an extra one of these.”
10
Jake
Quarantine – Day 12
“Wait.” Casey squinted into the phone as our Facetime call connected. “What happened to your beard?”
“Sydney happened to my beard.”
“Uh-oh,” she laughed. “What did our adorable niece say to you this time?”
“First she dissed the quality of my stubble by asking where the ‘rest of my beard’ was. And then, when I tried to explain that it was only five days’ worth of growth, she roasted me by saying, ‘Oh, it looks like termites got to it while you were sleeping.’”
