Remembering the pizza made my stomach growl with a sudden ferocity. After I sorted through this final box of silverware, I’d take a break and dive into the leftovers.
But before I could start, the doorbell rang, chiming loudly in the quiet of the house.
“Finally!” I exclaimed, making my way to the front.
My phone held far more photos than it did music or podcasts and with Dad’s old radio still packed away somewhere, the morning had been brutally quiet. I’d forlornly imagined all the Zoom meet-ups my friends were holding without me. Last week Zoe had mentioned wanting to DIY her own highlights and we’d all gleefully promised to watch her livestream the disaster.
I slipped a mask over my face, wincing as one of the elastic straps twisted into my flyaways, yanking at the strands of hair, then opened the door.
A man in gray coveralls stood just off the porch, a good six feet away. He had on a blue mask and white latex gloves.
“Hi, hi, come in!” I greeted him, stepping back to allow him access through the door.
He hung back, his thick eyebrows furrowing into a solid line of confusion. “Miss?”
“You’re with the cable company, right? To install the Wi-Fi?”
He nodded. “I already got you all set up outside—checked all the lines and you should be good to go.”
I tilted my head. “But don’t we need a…box…or a router, or whatever?”
“They’re all in there. HDMI cables and the remotes too.” He pointed to a bag on the porch I’d just noticed.
“Okay…” I trailed off, still not following. “Want me to bring it in for you?”
“I can’t come inside the house, miss,” he said. “Company policy. The rep should have told you?”
They might have told Dad all that when he’d set up the appointment, but he’d certainly not passed it along to me.
I blinked hard. My eyes felt itchy from all the dust I’d kicked up while cleaning.
“So…what am I supposed to do?”
“Everything you need is in there,” he said, pointing to the bag again. “Instructions too.”
“I’m supposed to set it up?” I asked, realization dawning on me. I sneezed once.
“Or your parents,” he suggested. “Your dad. If he’s not too sick.”
Ignoring the implied sexism, I stepped onto the porch to rummage through the bag. As I came forward, he faltered back, keeping his distance.
“I’m not sick. It’s just allergies.” I pulled out a mess of cables. “I don’t…How am I supposed to—”
“The instructions are in there,” he repeated, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “If you’ve got questions, there’s a number to call.”
I flashed unhappily back to the rotary phone.
“You’re sure you can’t just come in and set it up?” I tried, smiling my widest grin before realizing he couldn’t see it. “We just moved here, and nothing works right now. I swear, none of us are sick.”
Of course, I sneezed again. Final Girl indeed.
“It’s just all the dust, from the boxes and everything.”
Another sneeze.
He shook his head adamantly. “It’s against company policy.”
“Okay, but—”
“Just call the number if you have any questions,” the technician said, inching closer to his van. “Oh, and when you do, make sure to tell them you were satisfied with our visit today. Those surveys really help with our numbers. Anything less than a ten is a failure for us!”
He was halfway down the drive before I could even think to laugh at the utter absurdity.
—
“He wouldn’t come inside?” Mom repeated an hour later over the phone. She’d called the landline and so I’d perched on the kitchen cabinet to talk, twirling the spiral cord around my fingers in an unconscious gesture, over and over.
“And I went through everything in the bag but I still don’t know how to set it up. He said I could call if I had questions but the phone cord doesn’t reach the cable outlet.”
I felt like I was in one of those inane comedy shows where someone was about to pop out from behind a couch, pointing a camera while cackling at my surprise.
“We’ll get it figured out when we get home,” she promised. There was a pause. “We’ll be a bit late tonight.”
“Why?” My mind instantly jumped to the worst-case scenario.
They’d already started working with the virus.
There’d been an accident.
Dad was infected.
He was already intubated.
He was already—
“There’s just a lot of stuff going on here—first days are always the worst, so tomorrow should be better, right?” Mom said, her voice brightening. She always tried grabbing onto any silver lining in reach.
“Is Dad okay?” I hated how small my voice sounded. He, my mother, any and all of us were only one wrong breath away from the end. It was scarier than anything Guillermo del Toro could ever conjure up.
“Of course. He’s fine. It’s…a lot of to take in, but he’s fine.”
“And you?” I pressed.
“Both of us are fine, I swear, Millie.”
“You’d tell me if…” I didn’t want to finish the sentence but Mom knew what I meant. I could picture a smile softening her face.
“You know I would. That said,” she drew out, changing tones. “I do have a little bit more bad news. I got the groceries ordered and scheduled for delivery, but they won’t come till Thursday.”
It was Tuesday now.
“And I’m guessing you ate the leftovers for lunch?”
“Yeah…I could drive into town,” I offered. “Maybe pick up something.”
“We took separate cars today,” she said, nixing the idea. I glanced out the window, only now noticing the empty driveway. “In case our shifts ended at different times.”
“I don’t have money anyway,” I said, remembering my wallet. It was tucked away in my dresser drawer. I hadn’t touched it in weeks. What good was cash and a driver’s license when you couldn’t
