I Am Supposed to be in Spain (Blackrose)

Our first fiction post!

I am supposed to be in Spain.

That’s all I can think about. June 10. The day I was supposed to be on a plane to Madrid with the rest of my eleventh grade Spanish class for a month. My host family would have met me in the airport and I would have met my “sister” and hung out with her friends and spoken actual Spanish and gone to cafes, and actually done something for the first time in my entire fucking life and now I can’t because of Covid.

When I came home, I had a job lined up at I’m In The Moo’d ice cream parlor where Mark works and I’d make money without having to babysit, get to hang out with my boyfriend, and the best yet, I could drive there myself.

It’s all ruined because of Covid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Covid.

Now, I’m stuck in my room watching TikTok, what my friends call Covideos because we’ll watch anything, we’re so bored. I Facetime my besties and fight with my brother, Andy, constantly, because he’s home too. Why is this happening? This was supposed to be the best summer of my life.

Mom lost her job. That’s a bummer, but she and Dad say it’s okay because we get health insurance through Dad’s job so not to worry. Andy and I hug that evening and play Scrabble, rather than fight. Don’t we need that money to pay bills?

I’m watching the actual news now and people are dying all over the country, including here in Ohio. Not just a few but thousands, and the virus is here in my county. We can’t go to the grocery store or the mall or CVS. We order everything through Amazon. That’s kinda cool because Dad lets me order a bunch of stuff because he feels bad that we are stuck in the house and I didn’t go to Spain but then even I run out of things I want.

And I remember that Mom is on unemployment.

What happens when that stops?

My tummy hurts.

Andy has a headache. Mom gives him Tylenol and an ice pack. I don’t tell her about my stomachache. She doesn’t need anything else to worry about. I stay in my room and listen to music. When my friends call, I ignore it. I don’t want to talk.

I overhear my mother on the phone with Grandma. She tells Grandma that she can’t go out because my grandmother has diabetes and heart disease and that makes her more at-risk for Covid. I read up on it and it’s true. If she gets the virus, she would likely die. 

I don’t want my Grandma to die and I’m sobbing into my pillow. I vow to call Grandma later. I keep putting it off because she can’t hear me, and it’s annoying, but I think I can be patient. I can talk louder; speak up. 

Mom and Dad talk about money in their bedroom. They think I can’t hear, but I listen in the hallway. I’ve been mad that my summer was ruined but now I’m scared because they are both crying and anything that makes my dad cry is something to be scared of. 

I go back into my room, curl up in a ball with my fuzzy blankie, and pray we’re safe. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Covid. I close my eyes and pretend I’m in Spain.

J.D. Blackrose loves all things storytelling and celebrates great writing by posting about it on her website, www.slipperywords.com. Please follow her on Facebook and Twitter.