Hiding Behind Our Screens

The metallic ringtone went off and, after letting it buzz for a moment, playing it cool, Maria click the green button.

“Hello!” she said as the picture came into focus. Pixel by pixel Suzanne’s face resolved itself. Another precious few seconds of isolation, no sudden meeting of their eyes across the room. As she waited for a response Maria clenched her hands and twisted the ends of her jumper.

“Hi!” Suzanne said at last. The fuzzy image didn’t pick up the way the tips of her smile dropped at the bad picture or at the short pause before Maria was animated again.

“How are you?”

“I’m good. Keeping going, keeping safe, you know. Nothing much to do. I’m catching up with all the stuff on Netflix and all.” Tucked away out of sight was the pile of blankets that lived on the sofa, stained and slightly smelly, covered in crisps and chocolate. “What about you?”

“Yeah, the same. Trying to read more, I spent far too much time looking at screens during the first lockdown.” The pile of books sat by Maria’s armchair, the bookmark still in the first few pages of the top one, a coffee mark on the cover, while her phone sat charging on the arm of the chair, still recovering from her latest round of reading nothing but horror stories and arguments.

“Oh, god, yeah. I should start reading again. I’ve still got the books you bought me last Christmas to get through.” That memory flashed across both their minds, too painful to dwell on. Neither of them would’ve thought, back then, that a Christmas market and mulled wine would be the height of luxury. Back then there wasn’t a single shop that sold masks.

“Oh, yeah, I remember. They looked good, can I borrow them when you’re done?” In truth Maria couldn’t remember what any of them had been. But the idea that one day, one day, they could meet, and she could take something from her best friend, filled the void in her stomach, if only for a second.

“Yeah sure. Next time we meet up in town I’ll bring them.” Suzanne would’ve given the world to see Maria in person, not through this blurry window. For all the promises she’d made herself before she hit the ‘call’ button though, Suzanne didn’t admit this out loud. The sight of Maria’s perfect make-up, so ‘business-as-usual’ stopped her.

“That’ll be cool.” Silence as the two best friends, who’d talked until the sun was rising before, now struggled through the emptiness of their lives to find something to say. “Oh, did you ever get round to that wardrobe clear out you were going to do?” Leaning forward some more Maria tried to hide her top from view, or at least the toothpaste and tomato stains on it. The shirt Suzanne was wearing was perfect, so crisp and stylish, even if it was one that Maria hadn’t seen before. Maria felt her mascara threatening to run again.

“Sort of. I tidied it up, and worked out what I’m a bit low on, but I figured I’d wait until the shops were open again before I bought anything new. Might as well wait and get the latest fashion!” Out of sight of the camera Suzanne was still in her pyjama trousers. Nothing else fitted her, other than this shirt that her sister had left behind. Wearing it was the only physical connection she had to the family she hadn’t seen for a year. All Suzanne had done during her sort out was try things on and cry, as the months inside comfort eating had left their mark on her waistline. She was jealous that Maria still looked so good on the camera, even leaning forward like that.

“I should do the same. Take the chance to sort it out when I don’t need anything for work.” Not that any of Maria’s wardrobe fitted either. Everything was too baggy, and showed too much of her bones, jutting out from under the collar or at her hips. Cooking for one was hard enough at the best of times, and so many days she didn’t see the point in eating. All it meant was more washing up, and she couldn’t be bothered to do the pile that already sat in her kitchen.

“Yeah, you should. How’s the family?” Suzanne asked.

“They’re good. Same as ever. Yours?”

“Yeah. Same.”

Please help. I’m so alone, and I don’t know what to do.

I need help. I’m going crazy, and I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

Maria exhaled, any noise to fill the silence. It was what she did all the time now, sighing, or making popping sounds with her lips. “It’s still weird out there at the moment, huh?”

“Tell me about it. I thought it would’ve all blown over by now.”

“Yeah. At least we’ve got the vaccine now.”

“Yeah, an end in sight.” Then all Suzanne would have to worry about was loosing all the weight she’d put on.

“It’ll be nice to get back to normal.” It all still felt so far away, and Maria didn’t know how well she would cope. If she fell asleep at midday at the moment, curled up in her chair, no one was any the wiser. When ‘normality’ returned, would she be able to make it through the day without a nap? Would she remember not to hum and whistle when she was around other people?

More silence. More empty void, the social distancing of conversation as the two best friends struggled to hold onto what they had once had. All the promises and plans they’d had with themselves before the call – opening up, asking for help, being honest – had flown out the window. Now all they had was the silence, and the twisted comfort that at least their friend was doing okay.

“We should do this more often,” Maria said, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

“Yeah, if you want. You can give me reports on all the TV you’ve been watching.”

“And you can tell me all about the books you’ve read.”

“Deal.”

Please, keep talking to me. I don’t care what about, just let me hear your voice.

Please, distract me. Give me inspiration, give me something to think about, something to work on.

“Anyway, lots to be getting on with,” Maria said. She clapped her hands, and waited for the intervention. Surely Suzanne could see through that. All it would need was for Suzanne to ask her what was wrong, just the hint that Suzanne had time to listen.

“Yeah, for sure.” Suzanne knew she should stretch her legs before going to curl up on the armchair again, but where would she go? If only Maria would ask, ask what she was reading, ask for detail, then she’d see that Suzanne hadn’t done anything. Maria would be able to talk her out of spending all day on her phone, scrolling through the never-ending chatter that the world spewed out these days. So many words, saying so little.

“We’ll call soon, okay?”

“Definitely. Take care!”

“And you!”

They both hung up and stared at their empty faces on their own screens. The technology was amazing and such a lifeline. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t contact, it wasn’t the warmth of the other person, or the touch on the shoulder or the treasured hug. After months inside, away from everyone, it wasn’t anywhere near enough.

Still sat in front of their screens, Maria and Suzanne broke down and cried, both wishing they were as strong as their friend.