I was fine.
Back to who I was before, back to my old routine.
Everything was under control again.
Only... 2020 had other plans.
Under control, Zoë? Please try again later. Maybe in a few years.
Every day felt like a challenge.
Milan isn't exactly the best collaborator you could wish for when it comes to a global pandemic.
The way he would forget what should be done just 2 minutes after I asked him.
I'd be washing groceries while begging him to remember not to press the elevator button directly and to please wash his hands in case he did.
I'd be searching for more information while telling him he should never touch his face right after taking off his mask.
It sounded like I was lecturing him all the time and I was so tired of it I started spraying sanitizer on his hands whenever he entered a room so he wouldn't forget.
He'd just laugh at me.
Not that he wasn't concerned but back then—the first days—we did try fooling ourselves into thinking it would only last a few weeks.
As the days passed, reading the news only got scarier and yet, my parents hadn't changed the number of times they call me to see if I'm doing okay.
I felt dumb for worrying about them way more than they'll ever worry about me.
For Milan, something changed when Eurovision got cancelled.
I noticed he started doing everything he could to alienate himself a little more.
At the same time, he started paying more attention to what I had to say.
Those nature is healing posts were bullshit. I couldn't stand seeing them anymore.
That was it for me.
Nature is hurting just like we are and the way most people don't care about it has a huge weight on how we got to this point. To some extent, that brought us here.
It's such a tragedy.
I feel lost, like I'm putting on an act by pretending I'm an expert on what's happening, as if I'm some sort of example to be followed when I'm not.
I'm as clueless as the next person.
I feel guilty for not being able to do more.
Sort of useless, actually.
The things I miss seem so distant now, like I'm never going to be able to do them again.
I miss biking every day.
I miss Amber's hugs and going out for drinks (iced tea, juices!) with Yasmina. I miss Luca appearing out of nowhere to scare me and I miss going to the movies with Jana; I even miss her asking to copy my homework.
I miss being distracted by the things I had to do, the places that reminded me of myself before you, I crave those—they used to help me keep memories from resurfacing, they occupied my days.
Here—this bedroom, my bed?
A constant reminder.
Every corner of this entire place, if you want to know the truth.
Sometimes I have the sensation you will enter a room and I keep staring at the door, waiting for it to happen.
I promised myself I would not let my mind wander and overthink about where you were and if you had been going through it all alone.
I kept my promise.
I mean... Until today, I was doing quite well on keeping it.
And then...
When I saw you were calling my heart jumped.
"What if he's sick?" was what immediately popped into my head.
It didn't take me more than 3 seconds to answer your call, it was pure reflex.
Seeing your face again was like applying iodine to a wound.
It stung.
But do you know when right after that you have to admit that's the best thing for the wound, even if it burns like hell?
If I were smart enough I'd just end the call but I can't bring myself to do so.
Because of that feeling—that stinging remedy, I stay.
I can barely hear a word you're saying because my brain went foggy.
I don't even know if I replied to you or if I was the first one to say hey.
Hey.
As if we had seen each other yesterday.
This shouldn't be happening, we would be fine if we just avoided this.
Don't you know?
I told you a dozen times.
The only way to end it was to not keep in touch.
Soon I start being obnoxious and that's how I sound too, it's so deplorable.
You talk about kissing me—that we were online and it was not like you'd be able to just... kiss me.
And what do I do? I smile! That's how dumb I get in front of you.
Every word you say about me that rings true is a new drop of iodine.
You, claiming to know me.
I'm aware of that, Senne.
That's exactly why I have to be careful: I can't pretend for too long when the person I'm talking to is you.
Not even if it's through a stupid computer screen.
I need to give you something real otherwise you'll keep digging and figuring things out just by looking at me.
The only way to do that is if it's not precisely about me, so I tell you about Milan.
When you say you miss him my heart drops from my chest.
Worse than iodine.
I miss you and Milan teaming up to annoy me or to praise me for doing something completely banal.
I miss you pranking each other.
I miss the way we had fun doing ordinary stuff together.
I miss this being your casa as well as ours.
I miss you.
But I can't.
How dare you ask if I have a new crush?
That's so laughable.
The girls joked about setting up a blind date for me but they stopped once they noticed I didn't find it funny.
At all.
Now having a new crush?!
I couldn't think of a near future where I would be ready to feel about someone else in that way, if ever.
It sounds too dramatic but that's just my heart speaking. It doesn't want to speak with you, though.
You can't know these things.
I won't let you know.
I can't handle you acting so normally, trying to entertain me.
Everything you do makes things more unbearable.
The way you move, the way you speak to me, the power you still have to make me act like an idiot, I can't let it happen.
I was so sure you'd use your charm to persuade me into your flirting.
You've always been too good at it.
It used to annoy the hell out of me, especially when I couldn't resist playing along.
"Sweep me off my feet," remember?
I cut you off by using an old tactic of mine when it comes to you and flirting: I encourage you to keep going as if you're embarrassing yourself.
It works.
You retreat.
I'm so out of myself I need to end this as quickly as possible.
And despite all my attempts to show you you shouldn't be calling nor thinking of me, you still want me to stay.
I can't, I'm sorry.
I say I'm sorry just like I did that day.
Because I was, I am.
I have to let you go.
I should have done it since the beginning.
Since that day you bumped into me in the hallway.
After ending the call I can't stop myself from opening a new tab on my browser; a second later I'm on Instagram, typing your username.
I'm just going to take a quick look at your page.
I do this once in a while.
I don't really know why.
To check on you.
To see if our pictures are still there.
They are.
We look happy.
Not like those couples that show off all the time as if they're the happiest people on earth.
Our own kind of happy.
Our inside jokes as captions.
Our blurry pics with poor quality just because we wanted to register a moment when all we had was bad lighting.
I linger on the pic you wrote you loved me in the caption.
We look like we couldn't be away from each other.
We can, though.
We have been.
It's better this way, you'll realize it some day.