Pandemic love, p.10
Pandemic Love, page 10
He looks at me with confusion in his eyes but just nods in understanding. I clear my throat and decide to change the subject.
‘So, Mike, what kind of food do you like to eat?’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
QUarantine - Day 1
So, it turns out that Mike and I have a lot more in common than I first thought, regarding our food preferences. He does, in fact, eat meat, which is perfect for my current way of living and he also drinks tea and has porridge for breakfast on occasion. I realise that both those things are very ‘English’, so it does make a lot of sense that we have similar palates, with my great grandparents moving to Australia from England many years ago. But canned tuna, on the other hand, was a definite no. As in, laugh in my face, out loud, a resounding no. So, maybe I am a little strange after all, but I can live with that.
He is currently into a high-protein, low-carb kind of diet, so is very keen on chicken, eggs, nuts, avocado and green veggies. I guess I can try it his way for a while and see how it goes. It can’t hurt, right? As long as I have a small stash of chocolate in the cupboard and a few strawberry yoghurts in the fridge, I will survive.
He also mentioned that he likes to do some exercise daily and would usually go for a run but being stuck inside my house will make that particularly impossible. Together we decided that he could use the little paved courtyard out the back, along with my old forgotten yoga mat and a few ‘lady weights’ to set up a small circuit-type gym. He also wants me to join him in the mornings for a workout, which makes me nervous, but really, what else have I got going on? We will of course have to keep our distance, though, as wearing masks whilst exercising would be ridiculously difficult. But doable, I guess, if we needed to.
I called my parents first thing this morning, our official first day in quarantine. They seemed confused that I was surprisingly chipper, but I just told them that I was going to make the most out of my two weeks locked away. They did agree, in the end, that it would be a good idea for me to keep busy. I think they could tell that just by having a person living with me, it would be easier to mentally deal with the isolation but they still had their doubts and urged me to call them as often as I needed.
After I gave them the long list of grocery items over the phone, I realised that I hadn’t broached the subject of paying for them with Mike. Such an awkward thing to talk about. I’ve never really had to have this type of conversation with anyone as no one has lived here with me, besides Mr Jezebel. I mean, I have been self-sufficient up until now, but I just don’t think I could pay the way for us both for the next two weeks. Especially whilst on reduced pay now that we are in lockdown.
It’s currently 9.30 a.m. I’m still in my bed, enjoying a lie-in this morning. We both decided to take it easy today and rest and then get ourselves organised and start our new routine from tomorrow. I decide to kick the blankets off, shoving on my slippers to make my way downstairs for some tea.
Somehow, I need to bring up the subject of payment with Mike, so that I can transfer some money to my parents for the groceries. As I shuffle into the kitchen, I am curious to see no one in there. There is sunlight beaming in from the back window, highlighting the tiny dust particles floating towards the imperfectly aligned timber floor. The stone counters are clean and tidy, and there is not a noise to be heard. Not even a cat jingle or the faint echo of a television streaming. Which must mean that Mike is still asleep.
I walk over to the kettle, lift it to see how heavy it is and then put it back down, and switch it on. I usually fill it up before I go to bed so that I know it’s good to go in the morning, especially when I am in a hurry for work. I grab a large mug out of the top shelf and place it on the counter. I pause for a moment, wondering whether to make tea for Mike too. He was so accommodating with dinner last night that I feel it’s only fair I should make him a cup of tea this morning. I mean, I am making one for myself anyway, so I may as well, right? As I wait for the jug to boil, I grab a couple of tea bags and the raw sugar, adding a spoonful to mine only. I think Mike said he was a milk and no sugar kind of guy. But I need a little sugar in my life. Although my diabetic educator may be shaking her head in disagreement.
Once the tea is made, I take the mugs upstairs to Mike’s room, thinking that maybe we can have a quick chat about the awkward money situation. I move towards his bedroom door, noticing that it is open just enough that I can lever it further open with my foot. I am greeted with the most surprising yet amazing sight in my life. Mike is laying on his stomach, topless, with his arms curled under and around a pillow, with one leg hitched up towards the centre of the bed, thoroughly relaxed. I notice that his back is wide with muscle definition and smooth skin, which looks as soft as a baby’s bottom, and I have a sudden urge to want to touch it and to my absolute horror, bite it. Oh my. I feel a small drop of drool leave the side of my mouth that I have to coax it back in with my tongue.
The icing on the cake is that of Mr Jezebel, curled up asleep on the pillow next to Mike’s. They are face-to-face in a deep sleep and appear to be happily at peace. I take a mental picture of this glorious site and contemplate taking a real-life picture on my phone but decide that might be a bit too intrusive. I can see Mike’s foot hanging out of the bottom of the doona and off the edge of the bed. He looks so tall in the small double bed I’ve made him sleep in. Maybe we should’ve swapped beds, mine being a queen. Something else to talk about later, I suppose.
I hope he didn’t have trouble sleeping, but by the sound of his deep breathing, I’d say he managed alright. I feel almost terrible waking him up but I decide that we need to chat before my parents go shopping.
I clear my throat. ‘Uh-hmm.’
Nothing.
I clear it again, but louder.
I get the raise of Mr Jezebel’s head on that one. He looks towards my direction lazily, and then lays his head back down, rolling over onto his back and stretching out his limbs. He is not in any hurry to get off of the bed – even for breakfast, and that’s saying something. I decide to give Mike’s foot a little kick to see if he responds to that instead. Nothing.
‘Good lord. Is he dead?’ I question out loud to no one in particular.
I then kick him a little bit harder than I intend to and am rewarded with Mike rolling over onto his back. My eyes instantly go wide with the new view I’ve been blessed with and I decide that I should give him privacy and look away. Well, almost. He has defined pecs, a slim stomach, and a nice V-shaped muscular trail leading down under the sheet. I then notice something else I hadn’t before: his apparent morning wood.
‘Holy crap!’ I say a little too loud, jumping on the spot and spilling tea onto the carpeted floor. He starts to rouse and I realise I need to get the hell out of here. I quickly place his mug of tea on the chest of drawers near the bedroom door and leave.
‘Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!’ I say to myself as I clamber down the stairs.
I’m still holding my mug of tea in one hand and grab the wooden handrail with the other, unintentionally sploshing the tea all over the place on the descent. Thank goodness Mike was wearing pyjama pants and was under the sheet because if he was naked, I would’ve been out the front door in a split second from sheer embarrassment. Quarantine be damned.
Oh lord. How am I meant to look him in the eye now? I’ve seen more than I bargained for and albeit delicious, I am temporarily scarred by the majesty of it all. He was exquisite! I start to feel faint. I have never seen anything quite like that before.
‘It’s just two weeks. Two easy peasy, insignificant weeks,’ I quietly chant to myself.
I can make that without thinking about him or his… member, surely. I’m not an animal. I walk back into the kitchen, deciding to whip up some scrambled eggs for breakfast to try and keep my risqué thoughts tamed. I do, though, try to think back to when I last did have sex. When was that? Maybe six months ago? I can’t be sure of the exact timing. But I was in a very short-term relationship with a guy named Brent, who, let’s just say, for a surveyor, could not find the right contours or map his way around my land.
I am busy whipping the eggs with milk and butter when I feel Mr Jezebel run towards me and dance around my ankle. He must’ve had a good night’s sleep. Traitor.
‘Oh, now you’re hungry?’ I quip, giggling.
‘Famished actually.’
I still, turning around to see Mike standing at the kitchen threshold, mug of tea in hand and pyjama shirt and bottoms in place. I let out a sigh of relief but cannot force myself to make eye contact with him just yet so I turn back around. I beat the eggs harder and faster, trying to act nonchalant. If I don’t address it, it will just go away.
‘Thanks for the tea, Dana. Sorry I didn’t wake up to greet you. I was having the best dream.’
I inwardly laugh.
‘I’ll say,’ I murmur under my breath as I try to remove the picture of his saluted greeting from my mind.
‘Uh, Dana? Is everything okay?’
‘Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?’
‘Well, I just think that those eggs you are whipping, have almost turned into a meringue.’
I suddenly stop whisking, looking down at the bowl in front of me. Did Mike just use a cooking reference for a joke? Man, he’s good. I look at my sad eggs again. Maybe I did whip them a bit too hard. Hah. Hard. Oh, bother.
At that, I put the whole bowl down and rest both of my hands firmly on the counter in front of me. I close my eyes tightly and try to think of anything even remotely non-sexual in order to subdue my rising desire. I look up towards the bricked back wall of the kitchen and out the window into the morning sky, letting out a deep steadying breath. No matter what I do, my brain’s already playing flashbacks of a shirtless Mike. His back, his abs, his shaft. I then hear Mike clear his throat from behind me.
‘Are you sure everything is alright, Dana?’
I take a sharp inhalation of breath, feeling caught out with my thoughts. I purposely do not turn to look at him as I reply.
‘Yep, everything is fine. I’m just cooking us breakfast and then I need to ask you something.’
‘Okay, sure. You can ask me now if you like. What is it?’
I move over to the cooktop, turn on the stove and fetch a saucepan. I still haven’t managed to look him straight in the eye and I think he can tell something’s got me rattled. But I can guarantee it isn’t what he might think.
‘Well, as awkward as it is, I was going to ask you for half of the money for the groceries.’
He doesn’t miss a beat, replying immediately. ‘Oh, is that all? Yeah, of course, I’ll go grab my phone and I can transfer you some money. Not a problem.’
I turn to look at him and notice he’s watching my face closely.
I sigh. ‘Thank you. That would be great.’
He turns to run back upstairs and re-emerges with his phone a few minutes later. I have just enough time to covertly dial up and inject my morning insulin and put a small can of food into a bowl for Mr Jezebel. Phew.
***
‘How about I transfer you two-thousand dollars?’
My eyes shoot open towards Mike and I inelegantly spit out a small piece of egg onto the table as I choke, startled. I cover my mouth, finishing my half-eaten eggs before taking a sip of juice, trying to regain my composure.
‘What? Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘Why not? It seems reasonable. It will help cover your mortgage, groceries and other bills. We are probably going to use plenty of electricity and water in these next few weeks. I suspect even more so than you usually do in a quarter. I don’t see the problem.’
I, however, am lost for words and stutter my next sentence.
‘T-t-that is a very generous offer Mike, but way, way too much. I can’t take it.’
There’s silence for a minute as Mike and I exchange a look. I’m not sure if his is one of admiration or exasperation. He takes a deep breath, preparing his next words.
‘Look, Dana. How about you send me your bank details and I’ll just move it across? If we don’t spend it all, then you can just send whatever is left back to me at the end of our quarantine.’
I take another gulp of juice, tasting the bitter orange sweetness as it flushes down my breakfast. Another glance towards Mike tells me he is serious. I nod my head in agreement. ‘Fine. But only if you are absolutely sure.’
His grin becomes wide, telling me that he is happy to have won our very first albeit minor disagreement.
‘I am one hundred per cent sure. I owe you so much already for letting me stay here. I don’t think that two-thousand dollars is enough, frankly.’
‘Well, please, do NOT send me any more than that! That is above and beyond what I was expecting. But… thank you.’
After the exchange happens, I quickly transfer some of the money to my parents, expecting that they will be done with our grocery shop very soon.
‘That’s nice of your parents to help us out, by the way. I am looking forward to meeting them, too.’
I blink twice.
‘You want to meet them?’ I ask curiously.
‘Well, yeah, of course. They are providing our sustenance. I want to thank them for their kindness.’
My mouth goes dry. ‘Oh.’
Usually, the guy avoids meeting the parents. Isn’t that like, a known rule? In fact, I can’t remember the last time I introduced my parents to a ‘friend’ of mine. But I guess, as Mike is not a boyfriend or a long-term house guest, it wouldn’t really matter if they met.
‘Are you sure? Really?’
Mike laughs out loud. ‘Yeah. Of course! What’s wrong with them? Does your dad have three heads or something? You know, I can probably help with that. I did do a term in plastics, so nipping that thing off would be a piece of cake.’
I laugh in reply. ‘Oh, Jesus, no. My parents are as normal as they come. I just wouldn’t think you’d be interested in meeting them, is all.’
‘I see. Well, I’m happy to, unless you’d rather I didn’t. I guess I am only a short-term prospect after all.’
I look at his face, his bright, beautiful face and let out a sigh of poignancy. Yeah, short-term indeed.
***
Soon after, I’m standing at the kitchen sink, washing up the morning’s dishes in a contemplative haze. I can see Mike in the courtyard outside, setting up the equipment we were able to find ahead of our attempt at a homemade gym tomorrow. I had two yoga mats in the end, six different sizes of hand weights, two large resistance rubber bands and a large box ‘apparently’ sturdy enough for box jumps. I am a little concerned about that box though as it’s been sitting in my storage room since I moved in.
Mike does look excited, though, and so enthusiastic to start training. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy, to be honest. But hell, I haven’t known him very long as to have any comparison. I think that maybe he’s one of those guys that just can’t sit around for long periods of time doing nothing. Always on the go. But hey, if he’s willing to train me in the process, I am willing to be his apprentice. That reminds me, I should really go through my exercise apparel later to make sure I have something of quality that will fit the bill.
I used to be a member of a gym and then prices went up, and I lost motivation, so I quit. Lately, I’ve been going for the occasional run or cycle around the neighbouring blocks. I love to be able to feel the wind through my hair as I ride, faster and faster… UUURRRNNNKKK!
‘Oh!’ I am pulled out of my wool-gathering to look up towards the entryway. That was the doorbell, indicating that my parents must be here. I shove the last glass upside-down on the drying rack and grab the closest tea towel to dry my hands. I move towards the back door, tapping on it to let Mike know that my parents are here. I tuck my hair behind my ears and grab a disposable mask from the kitchen counter. Mike and I have decided to greet them wearing masks, just to be safe.
Once I arrive at the front door, I take a deep breath and open it wide, seeing that there are a dozen or so grocery bags neatly lined up at my feet and my parents approximately 1.5 metres behind them. I’m glad that they are taking our quarantine seriously.
‘Hi, darl,’ chirps my dad. ‘Long time no see.’ He waves his large hand towards me and then straightens his shoulders, holding up his impressive six-foot-two height. His glasses fog up as soon as he talks as a result of the mask currently covering his face.
I immediately want to run and hug him, but I refrain.
‘Hi Dad, Mum! I wish I could come over and hug you both right now! Thank you so much for getting the groceries for Mike and me. We could have never managed without you.’
Mum has her head on a slight tilt in affection, with her hands clasped in front of her, and her kind and caring eyes directed towards me.
‘That’s alright, dear. I just wanted to let you know that we had to substitute some of the items for other brands as there are still so many shortages and the chocolate bars you wanted weren’t there, so we improvised. I hope that’s okay.’
‘Aww, thanks, Mum. I am sure it will be fine. I really shouldn’t be eating them anyway.’
They both chuckle, knowing full well why.
Dad clears his throat. ‘So, hun, where’s this Mike?’
Just at that moment, Mike comes bounding over, mask in place, instinctively reaching his hand out for a shake. He realises almost immediately that handshakes are not presently allowed, so he retreats it shortly thereafter, swapping it out for a wave.
‘Oh, hi, guys! I’m so sorry, I was just setting up some training equipment for tomorrow.’
Dad’s eyes open wide in amusement. ‘Oh, training equipment? That sounds interesting. Are you planning on getting D here to train with you?’ He points to me with a half-chagrin smile, obviously poking fun at my less-than-average physical fitness. I’m slightly offended by his comment, but that fades soon enough as I realise that he’s not entirely wrong. I haven’t done a ‘gym’ session in quite some time.
