• No results found

TIMES BEING WHAT THEY ARE

N/A
N/A
Protected

Academic year: 2021

Share "TIMES BEING WHAT THEY ARE"

Copied!
9
0
0

Loading.... (view fulltext now)

Full text

(1)

Project Proponent and Partners:

1 TIMES BEING WHAT THEY ARE

by Khatarina Martinez

SYNOPSIS: When the lockdown started, two sisters were forced to live together and abandon their lives in the city. To cope with the effects of quarantine, they built a dull routine which involved light exercise, food, telepathy, social media, work, and a tinge of hygiene. Their well-established routine is only disrupted when one of the sisters goes out to get tested for Covid-19. She converses with a tricycle driver on the way to the health facility and interacts briefly with the nurse attending to her.

Her story takes a turn when the rapid test comes back positive.

---

You check the time on your phone. You slept for nine hours and woke up more tired than when you went to bed. You check your emails. The usual barrage of messages from your boss. Do this, don’t do that. Did you get the memo? Show some competence. What’s wrong with you?

Your boss should try harder. By now, your mind has adapted a primitive ego defense mechanism that negates anything that produces stress. You’re practically mind-numb. And your brain tricks your eyes into reading your boss’ messages like they’re motivational quotes from pinterest. Such a nice way to greet the morning.

Or afternoon? It doesn’t matter, times being what they are.

You swing your legs off the bed. The floor feels stone cold on your soles and your feet can’t seem to detect your slip-ons. They should be soft, fluffy, and a tiny bit dusty. Wrong side of the bed then. You lay back down and wriggle your way to the other side. There. Your feet feel warmer now.

You proceed with a bit of stretching to warm the rest of your body. Touch your toes, your knees, your shoul-- oh god, your back just cracked-- der and your head. Swing your arms to the left then to the right. Jog in place for five minutes.

Pause after the first thirty seconds. You’re choking a little, so catch your breath. You can do this. Continue jogging in place. Stop after fifteen more seconds. Tiny coughs escape your throat and you conclude this is pathetic.

(2)

It’s nothing like jogging outdoors. Fresh air and the combined scenery of nature and your fellow weaklings gasping for breath makes exercise bearable. But since your city is still on lock down, you can’t do that. Either you’re going to contract the virus or, worse, police officers are going to lock you up for… well…

honestly, any reason. Like if you look suspicious (to them) or if you possess “terrorist vibes” maybe? Simply said, jogging outdoors is asking for trouble, times being what they are.

The 45-second cardio took the grogginess out of you though. So you make your way downstairs.

You see your sister already in her make-shift office between the living room and the kitchen. Her eyes are glued to the screen, hands typing frantically.

Six years ago, she left home to work in the city twelve hours away. She landed a job at a foreign company so she’s kinda well-off. Got a condo and everything.

She always nags you to get the same insurance plan as hers. The expensive one. She says it offers the best benefits for when you get sick and eventually die.

You know she makes an excellent point but you won’t listen. Partly because you are, for the lack of a better term, flat broke. And partly because it’s fun to tease her about being alone.

You say the only reason she needs a foolproof lifeplan is because she doesn’t have anyone to grow old with. Nobody has promised to take care of her in sickness and in health, til death do they part.

She tells you she’s single “by choice”. But you know it’s because she doesn’t have a social life outside work. You invite her on trips and dinners with your friends but she always refuses. Finally, at the start of this year, for her New Year’s Resolution, she agreed to meet new people.

Then, without warning, the pandemic struck. Cities were locked down.

Schools and businesses closed. Your classes got suspended indefinitely. Recession became a thing. Your sister was let go from her job. Both of you were forced to go home. And all these happened in the space of a month.

The following month wasn’t smooth sailing either because you live under a rock. Figuratively. Your sister struggled to look for a new job because your internet provider conspired with evil entities to hinder WiFi particles from ever being stable.

(3)

Project Proponent and Partners:

3 But despite the heavy workload and the minimum wage, you see her crouched on her miniscule desk, intent on doing her job well.

You wave your hands between her face and the screen. She looks up at you, her brows furrowed in annoyance. She cocks her head towards the kitchen and you understand what she means. She made breakfast. There’s a plate of eggs on the counter. Cook your own rice or make your own toast. Now get out of her face. You smile and blow a kiss at her. She dodges and gets back to her work.

You find said breakfast and reach for the glistening fried eggs with your bare hands. At the last second, you jerk your hand away as if an invisible fork had jabbed your fingers. You look back to see your sister watching you from the corner of her eyes. You. Have. Utensils. Freaking. Use. Them.

You stare at each other, letting the tension build until the air between you vibrates with it. When the subtle rage is rolling off her like tiny waves of heat, you snatch the egg and put it in your mouth. Smack your lips loud and sloppy. This is your first, and maybe last, win for the day.

Your sister fries eggs in a way that makes them salty, oily, and a little bit crunchy because of the burnt edges. Today’s eggs seem bland and kinda leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. But that’s probably just your nasty morning saliva blending with your breakfast. You should have gargled first. But who has time for hygiene, times being what they are.

Besides, coffee can take care of that. While you sip on your first cup of black, unsugared, absolutely caffeinated coffee, you bring your phone out and get on with comparing your life with social media influencers. You also check on how your friends are doing. You find out that they are either getting hired, fired, promoted, or pregnant. Others have gone to graduate school, or debuted their music or their art.

As usual, you wind up scrolling further than you intended. You come across all manner of tomfoolery. People partying and grinding against each other instead of physical distancing. Public officials wearing masks the wrong way, or wearing none at all. Your uncle’s suspicious posts about cure-alls, in addition to the chain messages you still haven’t opened. Law enforcers not upholding the law. Journalists getting locked up for doing their job. Then there’s the chilling pictures of violence in the streets. And even more chilling pictures of violence inside homes.

(4)

By the second cup of coffee, smoke’s coming out of your ears. You console yourself with an unhealthy amount of cat, puppy, otter, penguin, panda, and other cute animal content online. But there’s one you always come back to. The meme of a pig fraternizing with dolphins.

By the third cup, you feel your chest palpitating. You body’s signal to start the grind before the caffeine crash. Or else you’ll feel lethargic and fatigued without getting any real work done.

You go to the bathroom to wash up. You’re averse to gargling as soon as you wake up, but you have to brush your teeth immediately after coffee. That’s just the right thing to do for your dental health. And you take pride in knowing that there’s still a tiny speck of human decency/dignity left in you.

You see your reflection in the mirror and you think of folktales about girls who after wandering into strange worlds, return years later looking the same age and claiming mere minutes have passed. That’s not you. Your youth was not frozen when you were pushed into quarantine. Time is catching up and you’re definitely showing signs of it. Still.

Who is this beautiful beast? You lie to yourself. You then give your face a dispassionate looking over. Welcome the new addition to the zit encampment on your forehead and cheeks. Marvel at how oily you are, or rather how glossy your skin looks.

You scan the products on the cabinet beside the porcelain sink. There are bottles of “aloe vera-infused” shampoo, “strong and long” hair conditioner,

“volcanic” clay mask, toner, moisturizer, and different “flavors” of lotion. All of which are your sister’s.

It feels chillier than usual, so you skip showering today. You grab the lonesome bar of brandless body soap and scrub your hands for more than the recommended 20 seconds to compensate for not cleaning your entire body. When your hands are pink as the skin of a newborn baby, you splash your face with water to wash away excess oil and sweat. After drying yourself, you make a last glance at your reflection and give yourself an unsolicited wink.

Now much more awake, you go to your corner, just across where your sister is. You open your laptop and prepare to occupy the small exclusive world you made for your professional/pretend self. You go through the checklist of tasks you’re

(5)

Project Proponent and Partners:

5 Has it been nine months? Since you were a wide-eyed undergrad student with a promising future? But eight months ago, you arrived home sullen, knowing that your thesis will be harder to finish outside the university. Somehow, you were able pull through and finish your studies while under quarantine.

Then, you were so excited to graduate. Your batch was going to be the first to experience virtual recognition rites. At first, it was frustrating. Because you’ve been rehearsing your “power walk” since freshman year and you’ve already prepared the most “extra” graduation outfit. But you’ve come to accept the situation. HOWEVER.

The experience wasn’t great. In fact, the online ceremony was so lame that you fell asleep before your picture even went up. So technically, you missed your virtual graduation march.

Your wonderful sister didn’t find it essential to wake you up and instead just took screenshots of the ceremony. So you still got to hang something on your “flex”

wall, beside your grade school medals and other accomplishments that no longer mattered now that you think about it.

The ink was still fresh on your digital diploma when you started applying for jobs. But there weren’t many options, times being what they were (and still are).

So here you are, typing your “promising future” away. Times up for reminiscing though. Your boss will call you as soon as she notices you’re online.

To be fair, you’re actually a great employee. Especially when you decide to be. You get your job done. Your outputs are impeccable. You can definitely work with minimal supervision.

Why then does your boss call you often? You can only think of one reason.

Spite. She knows you hate video calls. Even your pixelated face can’t hide the awkwardness of your expression. And you haven’t had time to practice fake smiles suited for online meetings.

Tan-taran-tantan-tan-tan… tan-taran-tantan-tan-tan… tan-taran-tantan-tan- tan…

Your sister glares at you. ANSWER IT. You give her your sweetest smile and wait for three more rings before picking up.

Your boss looks perfectly professional. Hair slicked back, light make-up on, and wearing a white top underneath a pastel blue blazer. You always thought her

(6)

set-up at home looked too staged, with books neatly piled behind her and a pretentious Van Gogh-esque painting hung on one side of her wall.

“Hi, ma’am. How you doin’ today?” You flash your sincerest fake smile.

You sense the laughter tumbling around in your sister. She’s visibly choking at your hypocrisy. But to be honest, you meant what you said. Not as a greeting though. More like a rhetorical question. At least you got to put the first word in before she gets on with her own lecture.

“You sound and look AWFUL,” she said.

You’re not the type who gets offended by frankness. And she said it with a strange concern in her voice, that it slightly tugged at your heart. Even your sister’s eyes widened when she heard it.

So you explain that you haven’t been feeling well lately. You tell her that maybe it’s just stress, or the weather, and that you’re going to be alright.

She nods and tells you that’s good to know because you have a lot of work this week. Then she just repeats what she already told you through the emails.

What’s interesting and weird about the conversation is before ending the call, she told you to take the rest of the day off and get checked for Covid-19.

It’s a really nice gesture, coming from anybody. But coming from your boss?

That boss? It gave you goosebumps.

Still, you decided to go.

You’re going because it's been ages since you had any reason to go out, aside from getting groceries. It wasn’t the best reason. But still.

You wear tight fitting clothes so it wouldn't get on objects around you. You put on your face mask then your face shield. You sling your satchel and make sure you have your phone, wallet, and keys. There. You look battle ready.

You approach your sister and try to give her a smooch. She slams her hand on your face and pushes it away. Yet, she has the audacity to ask you to buy snacks on the way home.

You didn’t have to flail your arms on the side of the road to get a tricycle -- your public-utility-vehicle of choice. As soon as you’re out of the house, a tricycle driver spots you and offers a ride to wherever your heart desires.

(7)

Project Proponent and Partners:

7 Gone are the days when you’d have to squeeze your way in with four other passengers cramped inside the sidecar. Now, tricycles can only take one passenger at a time. It’s liberating, but at the same time, you miss the thrill of fighting for a seat, and the intimacy of sharing sweat with strangers.

You notice the plastic barrier between the sidecar and the motorcycle. But since it’s the first time in weeks that you get to personally interact with another human, besides your sister, you strike up a conversation with the blurry form on the other side.

“Hi, manong. How’s life on the road these days?” You cringe at asking the most generic questions. But again, when it comes to chatting in person, you’re out of practice.

“Where do I even begin, ma’am?” You can hear the resignation in his voice.

It’s a no-brainer that there’s not much to go around. People rarely go out so there’s less passengers who need his services. His earnings decreased but the prices of necessities stay the same.

“Have you tried applying for social amelioration, manong? It may not be much but maybe it can help?” You hate how your voice sounds. You can’t hide the fact that you’re fully aware how useless your suggestions are.

He tells you the 5,000 pesos only lasted for a week or two. So, in addition to tricycle driving, he’s also started making wooden furniture and cement pots.

As he goes on telling you about the extent of the quarantine's impact on his livelihood, a gnawing sense of guilt settles in your chest. The plastic barrier feels thicker, furthering the divide between his struggles and your petty middle-class complaints.

You believe you’re in recluse because you put health above all else. But really, you’re at home because you can. Meanwhile, he needs to provide for his family even if that means risking exposure every day. Clearly, you have different notions of what survival means. So you don’t speak for the rest of the trip. You just listen, unable to think of proper words to say.

When he drops you off at the facility, you ask for his contact number.

“Manong, I just remembered that I have plant cuttings to re-pot,” you don’t. You have zero plants. You weren't blessed with the knack nor the patience for growing living things. “Can I get cement pots from you? I desperately need them!” you don’t. Still, you think your white lies are forgivable, given the happy glow that

(8)

crossed the driver’s expression as he recited his contact details to you. You also promise to contact him later after the test so he can drive you back home.

Your mood was brightened by the encounter and you’re whistling a happy tune inside your head as you walk towards the health facility. You’re still absorbed in your own Mother Theresa ego that you breeze through the process of getting a rapid test.

This is why as the nurse pricks your finger for a blood sample, you don’t notice the bags under her eyes or the paleness of the skin under her face shield. Of course, you also don’t see that she’s swimming in her own sweat under the PPE she’s wearing.

Ten minutes later, she returns with your results. You snap back from scrolling through prospective plant providers on instagram and sling your satchel across your body, ready to head home.

The nurse speaks in a voice that is soft, edgeless, and matter-of-fact.

“Ma’am, you tested positive.”

The room goes silent. As if the nurse’s voice had drilled a hole in the air and left a void when she stopped talking.

You heard the words that she said, but you can’t seem to pull any sense from them. “I.. uhh..” you fumble for a reply. You feel your muscles grow weak and rubbery, and you collapse back on the seat. Then, you say the first thing that comes to your mind.

“I need to call my sister.”

It feels like forever waiting for your sister to pick up. Your hands are sweating profusely and your legs won’t stop fidgeting.

“WHAT.” She answers, the perpetual displeasure lingering in her tone.

With a shaky voice, you tell her that your rapid test returned positive and that you’re going to have to stay in the facility to wait for the swab test.

You brace yourself for her sermon about your neglect of proper hygiene and your laxness with safety precautions. She’ll probably be packing your clothes and toiletries while she’s lecturing you about never listening to her.

(9)

Project Proponent and Partners:

9 Despite that, you also expect her to reassure you that you’re going to be okay. That rapid tests are unreliable and your swab test is surely going to come back negative.

None of that happens.

She just says “okay” and hangs up.

You feel the lightheadedness completely crash over you and your entire body goes limp. For a moment, everything is bright around the edges of your vision.

The vivid mental picture of intubation makes your stomach roll over and you think you’re going to gag.

You press the heels of your hands to your eyes and try to gather your thoughts. You heave a regretful sigh.

“Yeah. I should have gotten that stupid insurance.”

References

Related documents

The Georgia Superior Court Clerks’ Cooperative Authority maintains in the UCC information management system a searchable index of organization debtor names,

type name struct {
 title string
 givenName string
 middleNames [] string
 surname string
 suffixes [] string
 }.. var name

If the line items that still have to be settled can no longer be settled in previous years due to closed fiscal years in FI/FI-AA, it is necessary to settle these line items in

Improving Bearing Reliability in Mining and Mineral Processing N/A 51 Improving Bearing Reliability in Food and Beverage N/A 52 Improving Bearing Reliability in Power

Such a collegiate cul- ture, like honors cultures everywhere, is best achieved by open and trusting relationships of the students with each other and the instructor, discussions

Source separation and kerbside collection make it possible to separate about 50% of the mixed waste for energy use and direct half of the waste stream to material recovery

We performed a wind tunnel study at Politecnico di Milano to measure the drag force on handbikers in different layouts to investigate the effect of the athlete position and

To investigate the influence of the introduction of total mesorectal excision (TME) on local recurrence rate and survival in patients with rectal