Don't forget to put on your mask

The plush grey couch ensconces me as I sink into its luxurious cushions. A soft sigh leaves my lips, lingering in the air of the empty room. Slice of cake, check. Laptop, check. Phone, check. I have everything I need for the next few hours right beside me. A simultaneous anime and sugar binge awaits me. A sinful and indolent Sunday afternoon is exactly what I need to offset the otherwise socially taxing week I’ve had. Two long lab sessions, plus a meet up with a friend, has completely drained whatever battery it is that I run on when I step out of the house.

I loll on the couch, absentmindedly turning on my laptop as I scroll through an updated web comic on my smartphone. Even when I’m being lazy, I need more than one form of entertainment to keep me from boredom. It’s a wonder that I can’t handle more than three hours of social interaction, but I somehow manage to read a comic, watch a show and eat food all at the same time. There might be something fundamentally wrong with how I function.

I glance through all the new shows that I could try, while savoring a bite of the chocolate cake in the bowl beside me. I like to eat desserts slowly, and the exquisite balance of icing and cake in this particularly confection makes me want to keep eating it forever. I know, I truly demonstrate the epitome of human evolution.

I finally find a show to settle on, excited to escape into the new adventure of someone who is undoubtedly living a more fulfilling and productive life than I am. I nestle deeper into the couch, as if I am trying to obtain an even higher plane of comfort. My lazy Sunday is quavering at the horizon, ready to embrace me, when my phone starts vibrating aggressively next to me. The violent angry vibrations are a stark contrast to the peaceful ambiance I had but a few seconds earlier.

The rectangular screen of my phone, lights up, flashing the name Rhea across it. I stare in horror at my cousin’s name. Usually in dramatic novels, the main character will say something like, “a million thoughts flashed through my mind”, but honestly, I wasn’t capable of thinking that much in such a short time frame. I only needed one thought and that was: ‘Could I pretend I didn’t hear the phone?’

Unfortunately, the answer was no. My mother had not raised me to be that person, or so she believed. Reluctantly, deciding to follow my mother’s teachings, I pick up the phone and try for a smile. I read somewhere that people can tell if you’re smiling from the other end of the phone, but honestly I was just trying to work up some happiness upon being faced with this unwelcome interruption.

“Hello,” I mumble tentatively into the phone.

“Hello Sayuki?” asked a feminine voice from the other end. Honestly, they called my number, who else would it be. This and other such snarky thoughts run across mind as I summon up the kindness buried within me to reply politely.

“Yes,” is the eloquent end result of my efforts.

“How are you?” asks my cousin in a bubbly voice. She was definitely a better person than I. I am certain that she has no good reason to want to call yours truly, no matter how scintillating of a conversationalist I am. This phone call is obligatory. The duty of a relative to a youngster in the same foreign country as them. Or so I thought. Then the words I dreaded hearing the most came out of her mouth.

“We came to London for the weekend, and were wondering if you wanted to join us for dinner?”

I freeze. This is no request. There is but one answer, and that answer is yes. They’ve driven down to London. I am at home. I have no ‘plans’ and I certainly have no friends. My health provides no excuse and with a face mask on and a bottle of hand sanitizer I would be good to go. I hated every single rational reason that I came up with. When it came to friends I could lie since they would always have other people to meet, but this is my family. There is no escape, especially not from my mother’s wrath, nor my from inability to come up with anything other than the flimsiest of excuses on the spot.

“Sure,” I force out the words, “I would love to. Where would you like me to meet you?”

“We’ll come to pick you up from your dorm,” says my cousin, “See you.”

“See you,” I say in a sickeningly fake sing-song voice.

Irritation is swelling up within me. Even as I force myself to pretend to be happy about what most people would definitely call a joyous occasion, I feel nothing but anger that I have no one in particular to direct at. I have no one to blame. My cousin and aunt are going to take me out and give me expensive food for free, but I all I feel is tired. I feel tired in anticipation of the questions I‘ll have to answer and those I’ll have to ask. A better person than me, or at least one with a better temperament would feel gratitude towards their family for coming to visit them and paying for their dinner. I, however, have the misfortune of being a lousy person to whom the word gratitude is proving to be especially elusive at the moment.

I roll of the couch, powering off my laptop, to change into something more socially acceptable than my pajamas (yes I was wearing pajamas at 5 pm, I’ve been wearing them since noon). I put on some jeans and a passably cute (or so I like to think) top. I spray on some deodorant and pop a piece of chewing gum into my mouth, before running a comb through my hair. I even hate this part of leaving my safe abode. I have to look presentable.

After checking my appearance one last time in the mirror (I could pass for a human), I grab my masks, one to keep the germs out and one to keep my emotions in.