My Funny Quarantine

by Rachel Abugov

  “Oh, shit. Straight to voice mail. Okay, I’ll have to leave a message.” She sighed.

  Three hours later…

  Mike picked up his phone, not sure whether throwing it out the window was the worst idea he’d ever had or the best. The phone was dead. His charger was refusing to charge. It was frayed at one end, which probably explained it, but all the electronics stores as well as his phone carrier were shut down.

  There was only one thing he could do. Walmart probably had chargers. They had everything. Mike didn’t want to brave the wilds of Walmart under any circumstances, but the idea of being in a place that was so people-y during a pandemic really didn’t thrill him. But he was done with work for the day, and without a phone, he’d be unable to get in touch with anyone important.

  By this, he meant Freddie. Only Freddie. He could Skype on his laptop, but then he’d be interrupting her when she was trying to get her business off the ground. It would be selfish to get in the way of her dream. Except that he wanted to see her, to rub her shoulders, which were probably tensing up from spending so much time at the sewing machine like a character in a Dickens sweatshop. Was she even taking proper breaks? Knowing Freddie, probably not. She’d be making sure everyone else ate while she pushed a crust of bread around on her plate –

  Mike hoped they had flowers at Walmart. He’d have to bring flowers for Freddie. She deserved them. So did Nana. And while he was at it, he couldn’t leave out Rose and Gayle.

  This required a shopping list. He wrote one on a Post-It, remembering that he needed milk, he was running low on toothpaste and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to buy a box of salad and some baby carrots since he wasn’t exactly eating the healthiest these days.

  Mike grabbed his car keys and wallet and headed down to the garage, remembering to dump the bag of garbage down the chute. The shopping list was on the kitchen counter. He remembered this as he turned west onto Jean-Talon. Oh well. He was sure that he’d remember everything he needed.

  There was a lineup of only ten people outside Walmart, and after applying hand sanitizer under the watchful eye of the security guard and taking a shopping cart, Mike wended his way through the store. Items leaped in his cart like spawning salmon – frozen pizzas, orange juice with extra pulp, deli meat, spicy ketchup, chocolate chip cookies, and the phone charger, which was the catalyst for the entire expedition.

  The flowers were impossible to miss, placed at the entrance to the store near the washroom. Mike couldn’t conceive of a scenario in which someone said, “I’ll just run into Walmart to piss and buy some flowers,” but apparently it was more common than he’d imagined. The candy was located nearby, so he bought a large pyramid-shaped box of Ferraro Rocher, knowing Nana liked them. Or was it chocolate cherries? It didn’t matter. He was already in line, and it would be a cold day in Hades before he left the long, long lineup to do a candy swap.

  Mike was deciding whether to buy one of the cloth masks on the endcap, not sure whether Freddie would be upset that it wasn’t one of her designs, when he heard a familiar voice.

  “Mikey? Is that you?”

  “Nana! What are you doing here?”

  “We came to pick up a few things,” she said. “Your fiancée wanted a Julep, so Larry and Gayle are picking up the food order. Rose needed trouser socks, so we decided to come here.”

  It was probably against the rules, but Mike swerved his cart out of the line to the checkout and parked it next to his grandmother’s cart.

  “I was just picking up a few things,” he said casually.

  “Frozen pizza? Black Forest ham? Are you eating properly?”

  “Probably not, Nana. Oh, hi Rose. Good to see you.” Mike smiled at Bubbie Rose, and she smiled back, her smile exactly like her granddaughter’s.

  Rose checked her phone. “We’re being picked up in fifteen minutes,” she said to Fran. “Did you get everything you needed?”

  “Not really, Rose. There are a few things I’m still missing. You go ahead. Mikey will give me a lift back,” said Fran with what could only be described as a sly smile. “You’ll help me if there’s anything heavy, right?”

  Mike nodded as Rose entered the line. Fran led Mike to the pet aisle and parked in front of the cat litter.

  “Don’t tell me you’re getting a kitten,” he said. “I thought you were more of a dog person.” Mike reached for a jug of litter, only to see his grandmother shake her head. “You want the non-clumping kind?”

  “No. I don’t want cat litter at all. We are not getting a cat. It could shed and our customers could have allergies.”

  “Then why are we here? We’re blocking the aisle, Nana.”

  “Oy, Mikey. Whatever am I going to do with you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Not to sound like I’m rushing you, but I have frozen pizzas that are gonna unthaw, these flowers are in serious danger of wilting and people are gonna think something’s happened to you if I don’t get you back to Cote St. Luc before midnight.”

  “Okay. Put the pizzas back. They’re no good for you. We’ll go to the cash and you can drive me back. No worries. See?”

  “That makes me suspicious,” said Mike as he returned the pizzas to the freezer, making sure they were in the proper places.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Fran innocently. “Now, tell me why you came up with that cockamamie story about being engaged to Freddie. And don’t tell me it was an impulse, because you know as well as I do that you’ve never had an impulsive thought in your life.”

  “Yet I suddenly want to leave you here with cab fare,” said Mike wryly. “That’s what I would call an impulse, Nana. As for the other thing, we were under attack. I had to protect Freddie.”

  “I think she can take care of herself,” said Fran. “But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need your support. You’ve been conspicuous in your absence.”

  “I didn’t think I could come over with everyone there,” said Mike simply. “It’s probably not okay.”

  “Probably not. But we have a huge back yard, with chairs that can be placed two meters apart. You can measure it if you want.”

  “I recognize sarcasm when I see it,” said Mike. “Let me help you with your stuff and we’ll head over. I wish I knew what Freddie wanted, though. I’ve been texting her all the time, we FaceTime every single day. What’s missing?”

  “You have all the little details right,” said Fran. “But that’s not what Freddie wants. Last night, she mentioned how much she loves Grand Gestures. She was looking straight at me. Save the little things for another day. Now is not the time. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mike looked contrite. Or at least that was the effect he was going for. “Let’s roll, Nana.”

  Chapter 17

  Mike could see the Zangers’ car in the driveway. That had to be a good sign. He put the new charger to good use as they drove back to Cote St. Luc and the battery was now up to a robust 36%.

  “Go ahead,” he said to Nana Fran. “I need a minute.”

  “Sure. Take all the time you need. Just make it fast, for crying out loud.” Nana Fran leaped out of the car, spry and birdlike, clutching the bag with her purchases as if it contained the secret to a good life. (It did, assuming that shampoo for aging hair does what it’s supposed to do.)

  It took a good ten minutes before Mike was ready to knock on the door. Because he obviously needed to be tortured, it took another ninety seconds for the door to open. Freddie’s parents were on the other side of the door.

  “Hi. You must be Mr. and Mrs. Zanger. I’m Mike Moskowitz. Frans’s grandson.”

  “We figured as much,” said Gayle. “This is Larry. I’m Gayle. And we should be on a first-name basis. You may as well come in,” she continued. “It’s not like you haven’t spent time in Fredelle’s company.”

  Using Freddie’s full name? This was getting formal.

  “Where is Freddie?” Mike looked around but he couldn�
�t see her.

  “Working,” said Larry. “She’s usually working.” Larry’s tone indicated that Mike was a slacker for not working. Nobody wanted a slacker to date their daughter.

  “I got off work a few hours ago. I’m a teacher.”

  “Freddie may have mentioned it,” conceded Gayle. “She’s very industrious, you know. Like a busy little bee, buzzing around the basement. She barely noticed that you haven’t called her in almost twenty-four hours.”

  Mike held up his old charger. “Technical problems,” he said by way of explanation.

  “Looks like a barracuda chewed through it,” said Larry.

  “That’s exactly what happened,” said Mike. “Don’t let anyone tell you that barracudas make good pets. They’re highly overrated.”

  “Freddie had enough of sharks and other predators when she was in L.A.,” said Gayle. “She needs someone who won’t throw her under the bus.”

  “I won’t do that,” said Mike. “Never.” He took a tentative step forward. “I can’t say I’ve known your daughter for a long time, but I know myself. I would never do anything to hurt another person. Certainly not intentionally.” He took another step.

  “I believe you,” said Gayle. “Your grandmother is very sweet, and I can’t see how she’d have a grandson who wasn’t an okay person. You may as well come in. We’re letting flies in if we keep the door open too long. Put your bags down in the foyer and wash your hands.”

  Mike complied, making sure he spent twenty seconds on handwashing. Drying his hands on his jeans, he checked to see that his phone’s battery hadn’t spontaneously bottomed out. Satisfied that he had enough juice for what he was planning, he headed towards the door to the basement, grabbing the largest and freshest bunch of flowers.

  “Hi. I was in the neighbourhood so I thought- “

  “You were not coincidentally in the neighbourhood,” said Freddie, her eyes welling up with tears. “Why are you here, Mike?”

  “First of all, I wanted to give you these,” Mike said, handing the flowers to Freddie.

  “Ohhhhh.” Freddie accepted the bouquet, cradling it like she’d just won a pageant. “They’re beautiful, Mike.”

  “That’s nice of you to say. I think the clerk was about to mark them down. But even if they were the freshest, most perfect flowers – “

  “You were saying?”

  “I was gonna say that they’d never be as beautiful as you. But that would be cheesy, wouldn’t it?”

  “So cheesy. Which shouldn't stop you. In fact, I would like an entire cheese platter full of compliments on a regular basis. And now, I gotta get to work. Since you’re here, you can make yourself useful,” said Freddie, pushing an avocado-coloured glass dish towards him. “Sit.”

  He sat.

  “Take the pins from the ashtray and stick ‘em in the block of Styrofoam,” she directed. “That way, we’re ready to start pinning later on.”

  “Oh. We’ll be pinning?”

  “Yeah. And pleating. We assemble the masks before we sew them. It saves time. Like mise en place when you’re cooking.”

  Mike had never seen Freddie make anything more complicated than a salad in the two weeks they’d spent together. “Since when are you a cooking maven?”

  “Oh, there’s a lot about me you don’t know. For example, did you know that I took ballet classes for eight years?”

  “Eight years? Impressive.” Mike was grinning, and Freddie couldn’t miss it, even in the darkness of the basement. “There’s something you don’t know about me. Ready, Freddie?”

  “I’ll overlook that in light of my curiosity,” she said, layering three identically sized pieces of fabric and pinning two pleats in place on each of the shorter sides of the rectangle. Like a machine, she continued pinning and pleating. “So what’s your special talent?”

  “I have so many talents. You’ve had a sampling so you know whereof I speak. But I also have one of those paint sprayer thingies. I bought it when I bought the condo. I could – theoretically – paint all the paneling in about as long a time as it takes you to plow through a bag of abricotines. That would make the room much brighter. It would be easier to work.”

  “It would,” said Freddie sagely. “And I haven’t had a good pastry in the longest time.”

  “Neither have I,” said Mike.

  “And we’re not actually talking about pastries, are we?”

  “No, we are not. But before we enjoy mutual pastries, I have a Grand Gesture to make.”

  “What kind of Grand Gesture?” Freddie’s eyes were filling with tears, but not sad ones.

  “Well, remember when DeAndre wrote a song for Kendra?” A Caplansky reference was a good indication of the scale of the grandeur.

  “Yeah. That was beautiful.”

  “So, I did something similar,” Mike said, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

  “I know that song,” said Freddie as the intro filled the basement. “My Funny Valentine.”

  On cue, Mike started singing. “My Funny Quarantine,” he began.

  Freddie was about to remind him that it wasn’t supposed to rhyme with ‘valentine’, but allowances had to be made for art. She leaned forward so she could hear the rest of the words. He’d managed to rhyme ‘unique’ and ‘on fleek’, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that nobody said ‘on fleek’ anymore. By the end of the song, Freddie wasn’t sure if she was laughing, crying or both. Probably the third, she decided. This moment called for a kiss. Freddie had no hesitation taking the initiative. She leaned forward, pushed Mike’s phone away on the off chance that he had an encore prepared, and they kissed. Deeply, passionately, and almost impulsively.

  Two hours later, they climbed the stairs, holding hands and blushing.

  “We were about to send a search party,” said Larry, wishing he’d worn the t-shirt Freddie got him for Father’s Day the year before. The one that said, ‘I Have A Beautiful Daughter, I Also Have A Gun, A Shovel and An Alibi.’ “What were you doing down there anyway? Or do I want to know?”

  “Pleating and pinning,” said Mike with a huge grin. “Your daughter’s quite the taskmaster, if you didn’t know. Oh yeah, she also agreed to go out with me on a second date. The first one lasted a bit longer than expected, so you probably shouldn’t wait up.”

  Freddie was humming “My Funny Quarantine” as she wrapped her arm around Mike’s waist. She couldn’t wait to see what happened on Date #2.

  The End

  Acknowledgements

  Massive shout-outs to my awesome family, who always encourage my literary efforts, my Shut Up and Write Group who keep me focused, and my cats, whose therapeutic purrs and endearing nature almost make up for their tendency to track litter across the floor. Almost.

  About The Author

  Rachel Abugov

  Hi! I'm Rachel, a recovering stand-up comic, imaginary rockstar and I have a habit of reinventing myself, and now I write romantic comedies.

  I grwe up in a house where we read MAD Magazine and National Lampoon, we watched Monty Pythin's Flying Circus and enjoyed the comedians on Ed Sullivan as much as the rock and roll. I can't remember not being funny, and I probably can't write anything else.

  You can find me on Facebook, on Twitter (@RealRachelocity) or on my website, rachelskissingbooks.com.

  Books By This Author

  The Crimson Diaries

  Crimson Deville was always creating. Her songs were instant classics, and her performances the stuff legends are made of. She left a legacy of music, but she also created emotional chaos.

  Her twin Cloe has decided to honor her late sister by releasing some of her journals, raw and unedited. It’s a backstage pass into the life of the Queen of Rock and Roll, in her own words. The highs, the lows, all the moments that we never saw on stage. If you think you know her, think again.

  Crimson and Clover

  You all know Crimson Deville, the Queen of Rock and Roll. Her music - our band’s music - will never be
forgotten.

  I’m her twin sister, Clover. Call me Cloe. Crimson left me to carry on her musical legacy and mop up her messes, not necessarily in that order.

  Then there’s Tyrese “The Beast” Mayfield. Call him Ty. He’s an ex-MMA fighter, and now he’s my personal numbers nerd. I can’t shake him. And I’m not so sure I want to.

  Hang on, people. It may be a bumpy ride.

  Road Trippin'

  Bad boy musicians or bacon-cheeseburgers. Which would you choose? It's no contest when chirpy truck stop waitress Sunny meets legendary rock guitarist Peter on Route 66. Together, they take over a burger joint, meet a famous TV family and deal with the fallout from a royal assassination. When Sunny is plunged into a world she never wanted, Peter sets out to rescue his princess. Or is it the other way around?

  Add Latte and Stir

  Meet Graham. Bassist for the supergroup Deville, single dad, generally all-round nice guy. Code name: Tall, Dark and Brooding.

  Meet Hellie. Her life is a bad country song - she lost her job, her apartment burned down and she's the victim of identity theft.

  When Hellie faceplants in front of Graham, he has an idea. A fake girlfriend would solve all his problems. Is a longstanding Deville fan with a massive crush on Graham the right girl for job? And will Graham's tendency to jump into relationships be his undoing?