Clorox Wipes

“Where were you all day?” My mother asks when she comes into my room that evening. She asks with an air of a mother that kind of wonders, and she’s not sure if she really wants to know the answer, but she’s also curious. She trusts me to live my own life, but at the same time, we’re in the midst of a global pandemic, and even though life right now is really more about millennials trying to shut our baby boomer parents in the house, instead of vice versa, I was the one gone all day, not her.  

I shrug. “I just went for a run.” In a perfect world, my mother would just take my answers at face value. I’m tired, it’s been a long day, and I don’t feel like explaining it all.  

But no such luck. “It was forty degrees today. And you’re sunburned. And you were out a lot longer than a run. Even if you ran a marathon, you’d have been home earlier.”   

I shrug. I’m not completely lying. I did run, just not where I implied I did. 

“You and I both know the sun can still get you even when it’s cold and cloudy.” I try weakly.  She looks me in the eye, and then she sighs.  

“You’re 24 years old and I have no way of stopping you. It’s not like I can handcuff you to your bed, but your father and I really wish you’d stop with this. What happens if you get caught?”  

I tilt my head. “You talked to dad about this?”

That’s big. They don’t talk. Ever. My brother and I have spent the last 24 years as human carrier pigeons, passing notes back and forth between them, a form of communication created by two human beings who hate each other more than most Democrats in America hate our president. And that’s saying something.  

They both show up to events, sure. High school and college graduations, the occasional marathon, but they don’t speak. I guess they don’t have to, since mom can literally mind read. I hesitate and study my mom. “Did you talk to him? Or like, you know?”

She glares at me so hard I wonder if she’s decided she’s done enough with this conversation to turn to alternate methods. But she wouldn’t dare. Not to me. “He called. After Aldo sent him GoPro footage of your surfing session today.” I want to be mad that Aldo did that, but Aldo loves showing our parents when I break the rules. You can be sure we’ll be having words later.  

“The beaches are open for watersport usage.” I argue, ignoring the glaring hole in my argument.  

“And any visitors caught breaking the two week quarantine rule will be arrested and fined, Elena Grace Gerasi.” My mother spits out, and if she had the power to turn her words into venom, I’d be dead right now.  

I obviously know that quarantine is a thing, and it’s not like I’m trying to say coronavirus is fake or anything, but I have travelled weekly my entire life. And I’ve never been without Aldo for more than a few days at a time. Plus, it’s also not like anyone knows teleportation is even possible. I wear my mask, I stay the hell away from other people. And if they try to arrest me, I can just zap myself out of the situation before it becomes an issue. I’m honestly not sure what she’s so concerned about.  

And seriously, the only person I got near was Aldo, who, since he’s a teacher and track coach, is literally only teaching online from home like two hours a day, ordering in, and surfing. And I couldn’t not go visit, because it’s Aldo, my twin brother, and ever since he moved to Hawaii after college, I’ve popped in every few days. If teleportation wasn’t my superpower, I wouldn’t have even let him move away. It would’ve killed me being so far away from my twin.

“Come on, Mom. How am I gonna get caught doing something no one thinks is possible? Worst case, you can just erase their memory.” 

“I would have to be there to do that, Elena.”

“So you’re saying you want to come next time I visit Aldo?” I ask.  

“No, Elena, I guess I’m asking if you’ve considered the ethics behind your actions. What if you unknowingly spread COVID all over the world?”

“I wear a mask, Mom. I mostly stick to outdoor areas unless I’m picking up supplies, and you know Aldo hasn’t been anywhere except the ocean.” All Aldo has ever done is outdoor sports and Netflix, so I don’t see the issue. “Plus, do you really want him out on the water all alone?”  

“There are other surfers in Hawaii, Elena.” My mom responds drily. 

“Yeah, but you want him near them?” I challenge, then smile at her, “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me tomorrow? I’m going to get a bunch of masks and deliver them to hospitals around the state. It would be cool if you wanted to help.”  

“Do I even want to know where you intend on getting masks?” 

I hesitate, then shake my head. “Um, probably not.”  

“Elena, at least tell me where you plan on going.” She says sternly.   

“Taiwan still has plenty available. Or I’ve heard some towns in Malta and Italy still have a surplus of toilet paper and hand sanitizer.” I’m talking fast now, the way I do when I get excited about something. I read this article the other day about the youngest girl to visit every country in the world, and I wanted to shout to the world that I beat her to it. But I live so much of my life, I can never do that. I can never say it, never spill it, never admit it. And that’s okay, because for so long, it’s just been enough to do it.  

Even though it’s meant sacrifices, keeping secrets from friends, lying about where I’ve been and who I’ve been with. I had a year long relationship with a Greek guy right after graduation, and I had to sublet an apartment from someone because I couldn’t prove I had a visa. And he never knew that I was there illegally, or that in any given week, I’d visited a dozen country.  

So, while everyone’s sitting in their houses on Facebook whining about everything they’re missing out on in quarantine - the gym, a social life, work (and I feel that, I got furloughed from my remote programming job almost right away because I work for a tourism company), I’m being told I have to sit in my house and not do good with the tools I’ve been given or see my brother, and even worse, I can’t tell anyone why exactly this quarantine life is so hard for me, while reading exactly every reason it’s hard for them?  

I expect more out of my mother, but she shakes her head. “At least, while you’re doing good, you can’t get or spread the virus.” It’s this trippy thing about superpowers. My dad can throw out his back lifting in the gym just for kicks or Aldo can tear a hamstring running, but if they’re using their powers for good, they can’t get hurt. If I’m hanging out with Aldo, we could spread or get corona, but if I’m running hand sanitizer around the world with Aldo, we can’t. Like I said, it’s mad trippy.  

“Can I ask, though, why you didn’t consider bringing your brother home?”  

“I offered… but surfing was more enticing to him. Plus he hates teleporting, you know that.” My little sister, Bella, is only twelve but she can already turn invisible (which she regularly uses to scare the crap out of me). Mom can erase memories and read minds (though thankfully she knows better than to use that on me), Dad got the equally cliche super strength, and Aldo got super speed. He moved to Hawaii after we both graduated from University of Oregon. He was there on a track scholarship, even though it’s boring to him to go normal people speed.  

His coaches wanted him to look at going pro after graduation, but I think the farce eventually got to him. Like the other guys on the Olympic team had to work at speed. He just had it. So he decided he didn’t deserve it. I promised I’d teleport him into the Olympics to watch some of the races though, and he said he’d take me up on it. Of course, that was before the Olympics got cancelled. You know, before the world closed.  

My superpower is cooler than all of theirs combined though. I studied programming and got a remote job after graduation so I could just bounce around the world doing whatever I wanted. I guess I didn’t even really need to do that, since I could just teleport home to sleep in my own bed every night, but some days, you want to wake up in a hotel room with an oceanview that you paid for, so you don’t have to worry about anyone walking into their room and finding that you’ve teleported in there (and no, that totally didn’t happen to me when I was studying abroad in Sicily with Aldo). And some days you want to be able to bring a guy (or girl) home without being like “Ummm, just so you know, I actually live in a suburb of Chicago, but if you just hold my hand right now, we can go sleep together in my parent’s house, and then I’ll just zap you back to (insert country here) in the morning.” It’s mad awkward, and breaks the cardinal rule of “never tell anyone you have a superpower” and in all seriousness, I’ve never done it.  

I came home to live with my mom and Bella as soon as the pandemic hit. I was living on Mallorca for a while, since I got my company to sponsor me on a remote worker’s visa so I could stay there. I still have my apartment so I pop in and out from time to time. But when I’m not breaking rules of isolation, I do have to admit, it’s nice not to spend quarantine life alone. It’s nice to have my family.  

I remember in elementary school, especially after the Incredibles came out, everyone would talk about what superpower they wanted. Kids wanted to fly, telekenesis, invisibility, healing powers, and so on. But truthfully, I never wanted anything other than what I had.  

Though when I was seven and popped myself onto a beach in the Seychelles when I was supposed to be in Sunday School, prompting a city wide search for me, I was grounded for weeks. Of course, then I just zapped myself over to a world renowned waterpark where I spent the afternoon I was supposed to be trapped in my room, flying down some pretty epic slides. After that, mom realized she couldn’t stop me so she made me promise to take her and Aldo with me whenever I wanted to travel. When I was fifteen, she finally gave us permission to go just the two of us.  

I’ve always appreciated the gift I have, but during a pandemic, especially. Borders are closed, but I can transcend those rules. And like I told mom, I can actually help people. I’ve been doing it for a few weeks now.  And sure, people won't die without toilet paper but some things just do make life easier (try having an emergency and using newspaper - just not the same), and some things you just can't live without.

When I was first trying (and failing) to be okay with staying home all the time, I noticed some posts on Facebook about diabetics who couldn’t afford their insulin, especially some Americans who are used to driving into Canada to pick it up, so I made a list of the people who commented on the posts and contacted local charities saying I was an essential worker allowed to cross the border and I’d pick some up.  

I think at first they were skeptical, afraid I’d give them bad insulin or something, but a couple days later, they called me to thank me for getting it, and asked if I’d be willing to make another run in a few weeks. 

Another day, Mom went to the grocery store and they were out of toilet paper and yeast, so I just popped into Turkemistan where they don’t believe coronavirus is a thing and picked up some stuff. It’s admittedly risky to enter some countries. 

When I went to North Korea, I just popped into a spot in the forest, spent fifteen minutes chilling, and zapped myself out before anyone could show up. But beyond North Korea, I can’t exactly prove my residency in any of these countries, and if the police stop me to ask where I'm going, it’s not like I have a pass. 

Sure, worst case, I can instantly zap myself elsewhere, but as much as I act like that’s an option every single time, you don’t want too many people to see what unimaginable things you can do, or they start looking out for people like you, and that can get dangerous, or so they say; I like to assume I can always take mom to whatever person remembers me and erase their memory, but I'm more afraid of what mom will do if I asked her to do that, than what the people will. Regardless, I usually try to stick to discrete entry points - empty restrooms, woods, etc. Luckily I can visualize where I’m going right before entry in order to figure out where I land.  

My mom sighs, “I have to work tomorrow, but why don’t you ask Bella if she wants to go?”  

I nod, and I study my mother. “I know I goofed off today, and I’m sorry. I just missed Aldo. But mostly, I’m just trying to help, you know.”  

“I know”, she says. “And I couldn’t be more proud of you.” She comes over to me and hugs me, and then with a huge smile on her face says, “And while you’re out, if you could track down some Clorox wipes and a bike that would fit Bella, I’d really appreciate it.”