Mary and Daphne #91 (Patreon)

I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I can’t mourn my grandma in this stupid pandemic. It was a complicated relationship, and I mostly just feel bad for my dad, who doesn’t do bad emotions very well, on top of which he is totally freaked out by mortality. That’s what’s bugging me most, is that I can’t go to him. He needs me, and I can’t go because of this stupid pandemic.

Mary has been an angel, of course, because she is an angel in addition to being a ninja, sorceress, coyote, queen, and something with computers. If I blink loud enough, she’ll come and ask me if I need anything. I think maybe deep down she wants me to be more upset. Or maybe not that deep down. She thinks I’m holding it in and that that won’t end well, plus she likes to take care of me. But really, like I said, I’m not ready to mourn. Better to wait and do it right all at once than do some now and some when I can go home and see my parents.

Though I guess I’ve been doing the hedonistic parts of mourning, self–medicating with sugar, sleep, and too much laying around. I know that’s not good, but as I remind myself, it’s a process, and I need to be extra forgiving with myself (I’m good at that). Later on, I can be extra not forgiving with myself (I’m awesome at that), but for now, I got all the way to the end of Netflix and spent forty dollars having a platter of cookies delivered to me. I don’t feel like baking (I know, but don’t be scared; I’m alright; really; I think).

At least Spring is almost here. That’s got me in sophomore gardening mode. I made a map of my garden in google sheets, and each cell is something I’m planting. Won’t be long now until the bulbs I planted last year come up. Too bad the order you do things in in the garden matters. I wanna go buy a bunch of mulch and spread it just to give me something to do. Yep, no weird mourning feelings there. Really … sigh …

“Daffodil,” Mary called to me as she came from wherever she was.

“I’m in here,” I said from our living room couch. Maybe it’s the pandemic talking, but I’m starting to have weird, tingly feelings for that thing my butt spends so much time on.

“How you feeling,” she asked when she got to me.

“I’m okay.”

“I got a surprise for you,” she said.

“I like surprises. Wuddya get me?” Ding–dongwent the doorbell.

“There it is.”

“Is it tacos, by chance,” I asked because reasons (which is tacos; yep, I’m good at the hedonist part of mourning, and we’re just going to all agree to pretend it’s mourning and not a continuation of my stress eating since forever).

“Better.” She looked positively bouncy as she bounced off the sofa. I heard her open our front door, and then the door closed and she poked her head around the corner. “You have a visitor.”

Mary came back into the living room wearing her mask and tossed me my own. I haven’t been around anyone but Mary since before Christmas. No one has been in our home but us since before Christmas.

“Mary,” I said, wondering just how out of her mind she was. She’d been twice as paranoid as I was, and I was friggin’ paranoid! I mean, I know she wanted to do something nice for me, but I didn’t want someone in our house. And a little warning woulda been nice so I could at least put on real clothes. “I can’t,” I said. I was a little miffed. Like, this shoulda been a joint decision.

“It’s me,” Nana said from our entryway. And there was Nana, also wearing a mask.

“She’s had both her shots and quarantined for ten days,” Mary said. “We wanted to surprise you.”

I was all bouncy as I bounced off the couch, but I didn’t scurry over to her. I just stood up. I mean, we’d talked on the phone and by text and over the fence. I hadn’t told her about my grandma yet.

“Hi. Um, is this a good idea,” I asked.

“I quarantined,” Nana repeated.

“Well, that was nice of you,” I said. “You didn’t see your kids?” Not that I was investigating. Just that if she went ten days without seeing her kids and grandkids, that was super nice of her.

“Nope.”

“How about we all sit down instead of being so awkward,” Mary suggested. Like I’m ever awkward … Okay, but Mary isn’t. She drips steely confidence. My awkwardness just sometimes rubs off on her.

“Did you quarantine just for me,” I asked as I took my rightful place on my new BFF with benefits, a/k/a the sofa.

“Mhmm. I wanted to see you guys.” She sat next to me. “And I’m hoping you and I can get started on our gardens soon.”

“I have a plan,” I told her.

“I can’t wait to see it. How’s everything else? You guys doing okay,” she asked me. Ugh, such a loaded question. I think we shouldn’t ask that question anymore until 2022.

“Daffy,” Mary asked me when I didn’t respond right away. And maybe because my lip started trembling. Actually, you know what it was? It was probably the tears spilling out of my eyes.

“No,” is all I said. And social distancing rules be damned. I hugged Nana.