UMLÄUT 2020 - THE PANDEMIC ISSUE
FEAR
Kai Caceres
Quarantine Family
They live in a beautiful blue house across the street from me, and my bedroom windows look straight into theirs. The Victorian’s detailing catches sun during the early mornings and this makes me happy, the way it’s so detailed, how somebody cared enough to make it so admirable. Sometimes, before quarantine, I would pass them all in the street while I was walking home. A family of three. They’d be going out to dinner, or to a friend’s cocktail party. At least that’s how I like to imagine it. Maybe they were going to a doctor’s office or to drop soup off at a sick parent’s house, I dunno, how could I? I’d see the Man rushing into his respectable car in the morning, his left hand holding a to-go coffee mug and the other full of papers and folders. I’d wonder what respectable job he was going to. What coworkers he would meet in the office, whether he was the big man in the private room with a view and a secretary, or one in a cubicle surrounded by other men his same size.
The Woman and Baby would be sleepy eyed in the living room around this time, just waking up and accepting the day. The Baby’s been growing and I think she’s at that age when the world is hers, she likes birds and the mailman from what I can gather. At night after she’s asleep, I’d see the adults in the kitchen together, talking over glasses of wine and avoiding the dirty dishes. The Woman would always get up first, disappearing into another part of their world that I can’t see, and The Man would clean up slowly. When he was done he would stand in the doorway, and sometimes if I squinted I could see him sort of sigh, before turning out the lights. The whole house would look empty until morning.
Then the quarantine happened and I’ve been home. And they’ve been home. And some days it seems all I can do is look out my window, at the moving world around me, and the world across from me that stays the same. The Baby likes her window too, she stares and I wonder if she sees me. At the beginning of quarantine, The Man began turning the attic, which is barely ever used, into an office for his work. I see progress- drapes pulled down, a desk and a couch put in, and for a while he worked up there every day, focused while The Woman and The Baby play in the living room, and bake cupcakes in the kitchen.
I never used to see them so often. Maybe it’s too much time spent at a window, watching things. I saw one night, The Baby couldn’t sleep, and nobody else could stand it, and The Woman yelled and threw her phone at The Man. And The Man used the attic to sleep in. Everyone has their days, especially now. I catch them awake in the night sometimes, alone or together, or together but acting alone. The Baby is getting bigger and bigger, she used to go to daycare. It’s healthy for babies to interact with other babies. Now she just interacts with her parents. Maybe, since her dad is balding, he kind of resembles a baby and it’s basically the same, I think to myself. But not really. He act much more professional than a baby would.
The whole family wakes up late now. Except when it seems that there is something wrong. The Man and The Woman seem to get along less. The Baby is their common ground. There’s no escape anymore. The house is becoming more and more of their whole wide world every day. I suppose I might be worried about them. But then again, they may feel just the same about us. And to the family,
I’m sorry for spying on you.