islainthestream Sometimes life misses the memo about sending you lemons and sends you a week of lockdown instead—but we’ll make it through. Take some time to breathe. Drink a cup of tea. Remind yourself about all the good things you can still enjoy . . . like quiet mornings with the sunrise before work. Stay safe, my lovelies.
I stay on the balcony a little while longer, relishing the peace and quiet. This balcony, this view over the grounds of London Lane and the nearby park and streets, was the reason I bought this apartment.
I couldn’t afford somewhere with a garden, but this is definitely the next best thing. Actually, it’s a bit of a stretch to afford it every month, but this part of my day always reminds me why it’s worth it. This, I think, is my definition of mindfulness.
Heading back inside once I finish drinking my tea, I make breakfast, and decide to make some for Danny too. I’m not a very good cook, but I do know how to make a good poached egg. And I’m very skilled at making perfect toast. I even add some bacon to a frying pan, thinking how much Danny will love it.
It’s only when I’m plating it up that I think this might backfire horribly, and I hope he doesn’t expect this sort of thing all the rest of the week too.
I put our breakfast on the dining table and go to get Danny. He’ll be starting work in twenty minutes, so I expect to find him dressed and ready to start his day.
He’s awake, but that’s about all I can say for him. He’s still in bed, not even having combed his hair yet.
“I made breakfast,” I tell him, not really sure how to deal with this lazy creature I’ve yet to become familiar with. “If you want.”
“I thought I smelled something good. Worth waking me up for,” he says, cracking a smile even though he’s still bleary-eyed. He yawns widely, rubs his hands over his face, and finally gets out of bed.
He pauses in the doorway to kiss me, and I melt against him.
See? I tell myself. This week is going to be just perfect.
*
After breakfast, after we’ve both logged on to our computers for work, I decide to use a break between my meetings to sort out the food shop.
I saw what people were saying on social media this morning: the stay home messages are starting to scare people, supermarkets suddenly seem scarier than skydiving, and food delivery slots are beginning to fill up even for people who aren’t literally trapped in their own building. I’m scared if I put it off much longer we won’t get a delivery at all.
Danny leans over my shoulder at the dining table, after setting down the cup of tea he’s just made me, and asks, “What’re you doing?”
His hand smooths over my hair and he kisses my cheek. I know he doesn’t mean to be all in my space but it feels weird to have him hanging over my shoulder like this. We’re sharing the table to work at, but I’m not too sure how long this is going to last. It’s a little too close. Maybe we can take it in turns to work from the bedroom?
“Just ordering some groceries,” I tell him. The HelloFresh website is open on my laptop, for me to place my usual order. Well, almost usual. I have to order for two of us, now, instead of just me.
“On HelloFresh?”
“Yeah, it’s great. Hey, if you’ve never used it, we should sign up with your email! Get one of those first-order offers.”
When I twist around to look at him, his cute face is all scrunched up. It’s that look he got when I asked him if Phantom Menace was worth watching, so I could get an idea what was so interesting about Star Wars, if he was such a fan.
He looks judgemental as heck.
“What?” I ask him, frowning and pulling away.
“Are you seriously going to order us a delivery from HelloFresh?”
“You know I’m not much of a cook,” I laugh. Smoothies and breakfast food are kind of my limit. I’d probably live off salad and instant noodles without my HelloFresh boxes. I’m terrified to admit it to Danny because he’s such a natural in the kitchen, but I just don’t get food. I don’t understand which flavors are supposed to go together or what the hell it means to sauté something, and the one time I tried to use the slow cooker I impulse-purchased off Amazon, everything burnt to the inside of it.
At best, I currently have maybe three days’ worth of food left in the cupboards—unless we’re going to live off Ben and Jerry’s and Oreos.
So, yes, I’m getting a HelloFresh delivery.
I add, “Come on, I’ll even let you pick a box, huh? Since you’re probably going to end up cooking all week anyway, that’s probably only fair, ha ha!”
He laughs, like it’s such a cute idea. “We can split the cooking, Isla.”
“In that case, I’m definitely getting HelloFresh.”
“That’s batshit crazy. And it’s so expensive! Come on.” Danny pulls up the chair next to me, pulling my laptop toward him, closing the tab, and already tapping away in the search bar. “Let’s just get, like, a regular food delivery from Tesco, or something.”
I catch myself scowling at him and take a calming breath. I take a sip of my tea, even though it’s a little too hot still. Somehow it’s still easier to swallow than his attitude.
It’s fine, I tell myself. It’s going to be absolutely fine. Danny can do most of the cooking, and if he’s really so bothered, it’s fine. It’s totally not a big deal. At all.
“Well,” I tell him, “then you’re definitely cooking all week.”
apartment #6 – ethan
Chapter Seven
Charlotte’s alarm clock goes off and I groan, but it keeps bleeping.
“Charl,” I mumble. “Charl, turn it off.”
I reach over, but the bed is empty.
I sit bolt upright, blinking the sleep out of my eyes, and it takes me a second to remember.
Right. Of course. Lockdown. She’s stuck back at her parents’ place.
Oh, yeah, and no big deal, there’s just a deadly virus on the loose in this building and I am on my own and—and I’ve been awake for all of thirty seconds, but already my brain has managed to place me in the plot of a dystopian YA novel.
Not that this is wholly unusual for me. Well, I mean. The virus is; the general sense of impending doom about something, not so much.
My body is already doing breathing exercises I learned years ago, my brain talking itself back down.
I lie in bed a few minutes longer before deciding there’s no way I’ll be able to get back to sleep, so instead I reach over to grab my phone.
I scroll through some notifications and reply to some comments on YouTube and Twitter.
After wasting an hour watching videos and combing through social media, I finally drag myself out of bed.
One day without Charlotte and my whole routine’s already gone down the pan, I realize bitterly, annoyed with myself. I rarely ever stay in bed like that; I get up when she does, and I’m at least dressed and sat down with my first cup of coffee before I spend all that time on my phone.
When I started out being self-employed, I spent about two months sleeping in until midday, staying up well into the night, working in my pajamas unless I was actually filming a video. It was great for maybe a week or so. Then it just made me feel lethargic and stressed out.