February 29, 2020 // Saturday

1. “Sole”

The tiny plume of fire was sleek and gentle as I stared at it while laying down on my bedroom floor. It danced very slowly above the smooth, beige wax. My nearly pitch-black, spacious bedroom was lightly scented with a delicious mixture of vanilla and coconut. Thanks to the candle, I could make out a pencil, a sharpener, and my open sketchbook on the floor. My latest drawing was of me, wielding a candle in the darkness. I looked up at the walls, covered in drawings of mine from over the years; of all shapes, sizes, colors, and styles. There wasn’t much of a consistent theme between them aside from solitude.

On a similar note, fleeing from the problems of school and the people in my life has been my mindset for the last week, as if I was a bird taking off from the land below and refusing to look back down. My best friend Sophie Fournier is someone I have separated from my life for the time being, and because of this, the bullies have turned their attention away from me anew. I have fulfilled my promise of peace, and they have done so as well. I’ve tried diverting as much attention away from those people, but whenever I do notice them, Sophie and the bullies are minding their own business. She has other friends to talk to while tensions fully cool down, and the dudes have sports to talk about and friendships to recover after word spread around the 9th Grade generation that “the Nicole girl kicked Bryce in the leg and he started, like, crying,” even though that was only half true.

Lately, some people at school have come up to me and asked me whether what I did was true, and I’ve always responded with simply “yup.” Diving into drama has never been something I’ve wanted to participate in, especially when I was the partial cause of the situation. I remembered my artwork from January 28th, with the little yellow dot and ring surrounded by blue. The little ring I’ve put myself in is best when no force is interfering with it.

Strangely enough, after laying in peace here for a while, a part of me wanted to be in the exact opposite of my room; out on a tropical beach on a hot sunny day. A vision came to me: I was laying almost flat on a stretched chair on the sand. The shoreline stretched from my left to my right without a single soul to be found. No friends. No family. No high school. My red one-piece swimsuit and incredibly oversized headbow were the only accessories attached to my slim body. The blue, left side and the yellow, right side of my bow shined a little as the sun beat down on them. The same-but-swapped colors split down the middle of my short-ish hair gleamed even brighter. A wooden stand on my right had a little sign that simply said: “Reserved for Nicole Chiaros.” In my right hand, I held a coconut, and between spread-out minutes, I sipped the inside of the fresh, creamy fruit through a white and yellow-striped straw. On my left, I clutched a cone with two scoops of frozen vanilla goodness that could barely balance themselves while one was on top of another. The sun’s glorious warm rays were delicately absorbed into my pale skin and sent some of the now-liquid ice cream down the side of my hand until it dried out and became a still river; frozen in time. Beads of sweat slowly swelled up from the pores on my forehead.

A moment later, I came back. Reality could not be any more different. Yet, I was at peace here, too. I peeled my eyes off of the candle. What did I want? How could I enjoy two completely opposite settings? Why was I this way?

I turned on my three-year-old phone and checked the local weather. Negative seven degrees celsius here, a few miles from the outskirts of Ottawa, Canada, outside Cumberland.  The outside of the outside. I shut the screen off, shivered a little, and surrounded my hands around the small flame in desire for warmth. After a silent two minutes, I took my hands away and checked the time on my phone. It was already 23:44? I was there for four hours when it felt like two and a half.

I decided it was time for some shuteye. I blew out the candle, fumbled around the now-completely dark room, hit my shin on the side of the bed, cursed a little, and snuggled up in my puffy bed with three fat pillows and three thick blankets. Outside the bed, it was cool and nice, but the warmth within was wonderful. What did I even want?  Why can’t I figure myself out? Did I need some sort of balance? Whatever the answers were, my leg was still hurting.

March 4, 2020 // Wednesday

2. “Void, pt. 1”

An exhausting yet empty day of school. First period, I sat for an hour. Minutes passed at a statue’s pace. Staring. Out to nowhere. In the second period, I sat for an hour. Stared. What was out there that I was missing? Then, fifteen minutes of empty freedom. Alone. Third period. Fourth. Fifth. Sixth. Seventh. No difference between any of them. All a drag for an hour.

 

March 5, 2020 // Thursday

2. “Void, pt. 2”

Another day of school. Repeat. All again. No change. Exactly the same. Everything.

 

March 6, 2020 // Friday

2. “Void, pt. 3”

Another day of school. Rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat. My wrists met my eyes dozens of times per hour as my built-up frustration piled up like tediously setting up a game of Jenga. As I was walking between my third and fourth classes of the day, I felt another wave of exhaustion and negativity. I wanted to leave school, yet I still had to sit and work through the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh periods. I was nearly halfway through the day. The hallways were as busy, loud, and annoying as always. Chattering from people a couple of feet away and those from several meters away blended into a terrible smoothie of unrecognizable white noise. My only thought was a wish. One that would let me snatch that smoothie and dump it as quickly as possible somewhere it belongs.

Step by step, I got closer to my 2nd Period classroom, and when I got in, I looked away from every face, including even the teacher’s, and I quietly sat at my desk at the back of the class and laid my head on the desk for some time. My soft, thin arms were great for keeping my head comfy, so my urge to never look back up was strengthened even further. What felt like a minute was actually six, and when I lifted my big head, my math teacher was already well into the day’s lesson. Everyone knows that if you space out for a few seconds in math class, you won’t have any idea what’s going on, so I knew that with the 360 seconds I missed, there was no reason to try getting back on track. I rested my head on my arms again and phased into a fuzzy dream. I stretched past my bedtime once again last night to give myself time to write random thoughts and draw little sketches in my notebook while simply … thinking, like I was on Saturday night. My eyes today couldn’t fully stay open and I was not in the mood to do anything whatsoever.

When I woke up nearly 50 minutes later, I jolted my head upwards and found the teacher, explaining away. What? Had she really been teaching a boring lesson for that long? I decided not to think about it, and I tried to recollect scattered pieces of the dream I just had, but they slipped away.

A couple of minutes later, the bell rang, and it was time for the fifth period. I dragged myself out of the room. As I was walking out, I caught a glimpse of Sophie. I hadn’t even thought of her all day. Normally, I would have kept my attention away from her to leave Bryce, Trent, and Cody with nothing to do with Sophie and me, but a piece of my heart said “you need to see her right now. You’ve been separated for far too long.”

“Sophie!” I shouted from across the long, busy hallway. She poked her head above the crowd. Simultaneously, we shuffled through the dozens of people like moles scurrying through the ground to find their safe space. As we came together more and more, there was an empty, open space of two meters between us, and we wrapped each other in our arms. Through her thin, beige t-shirt (she loved the cold weather, obviously), I could feel her chest pressing against mine.

“Heyyyy,” Sophie warmly spoke. Not a peep came from my part. She peeled back while having a grasp on my shoulders. She tilted her head to the side and looked all over my face.

“W- were you crying? Come.” Before I could recall whether I actually cried or not, she took my hand and suddenly pulled me through a doorway to my right that took us to the chilly, cloudy outdoors. She ran as she dragged me out, and then we slowed down and settled down beneath our favorite oak tree.

Confused and red-faced, I blurted “you know we have Period Five right now. We’re gonna be marked late in two mi-” until she cuts in with “it doesn’t matter.”

“Why are we here?”

Sophie paused and stared. “Look at yourself, Nicole.” I didn’t look at myself on the outside, but on the inside. I was hollow. She pleaded: “What have you been doing all day? All week?”

I paused. “I don’t know. I’ve been going. Just. Going.”

“What do you remember from the last few days?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you been sleeping enough?”

“I don’t know.”

“... What do you want right now?”

I stopped. I didn’t even know what I wanted. It’s like life has been behind the wheel and I’ve been in the back seat. I lowered my head between my knees as Sophie continued to watch me.

Sorrowfully, she remarked: “I hate seeing you like this. To me, it feels like you’ve disappeared for weeks. I’m one of the only people you’ve let into your life. You don’t have to suffer alone.”

With droplets of water streaming down my cheek, I lifted my face. “But loneliness mostly comes from having too many shallow friends rather than a few close ones.”

“Yes- no- look, look. Having a few close friends has its benefits, absolutely… but you know, you can’t close yourself off without appreciating the people you have, Nicole. Plus, having multiple friends has many benefits too. You only have to find a balance between too few and too many.” She paused and continued with: “Hey, doesn’t your last name mean ‘light?’”

After a second, I looked up to the bland, gray blanket of clouds that obscured much of the sun’s power.

“Chiaros, find the light inside yourself. You don’t have to be like this.” She formed a heart shape with her hands and brought them up to my chest while she was crisscrossed three feet away from me. “You know, candles can burn with more than one wick. When you’re feeling low, know that I can be your second flame.” My smile stretched from ear to ear and my teeth shined a little.

“Would you?” I whispered. Sophie blushed and burst out a strange giggle, and laughed more about how loud and weird her giggle was. I laughed even harder, and that began a cycle of joyful hysteria. I was going to look around the outdoor space to see if anyone was watching us as if we were maniacs, but I didn’t care. I was taking the wheel now.

As we calmed down, I leaned over quickly, gave her a little smooch on the cheek, and her laughter erupted again and spread onto me. We were friends. My flame was not alone. This felt like the start of something new. That moment stuck with me for the rest of the day.

March 10, 2020 // Tuesday

3. “Imminent”

Science class began once again with the teacher putting up the worldwide coronavirus cases. China was still easily ahead in numbers, but several other countries had many more cases than I remember from last time. Apparently, China had already dropped their daily cases down to 19 yesterday, which I found hilariously hard to believe. An infamously secretive and dishonest dictatorship that was the epicenter of a fast-spreading virus that is taking over the world only had 80,000 out of 1,400,000,000 people infected in two months. And now, only 0.00000013% of the country is getting the virus each day? Sure.

After looking over and talking about the graphs for a few minutes, the teacher moved on to the news that Italy announced the complete lockdown of the entire country, and it came into effect today, within a few hours of Science class. As of yesterday, Canada had 77 total cases and Italy had 9240. They were at our point on February 22nd, so by March 25th, we could be in the same spot as Italy if our graphs matched up. That was pretty tough to process. We probably wouldn’t have a short spike in cases like China is saying they’ve had, but I would expect us to return to normal maybe before the summer starts. A major change was imminent, there was no denying it. How it will be like and how long it will last can only be told with time.

March 11, 2020 // Wednesday

4. “Full Stop”

Today was a pretty standard school day, aside from the fact that I thought about the coronavirus and lockdowns all day. At the end of the final class, I saw Sophie on the opposite end of the 9th Grade hallway, waving me goodbye with a smile, while I did the same. A bit after that, I got in my mom’s car and gave the campus a short but nice glance as we drove away. It stuck with me for a little while.

• •  •

It’s now 6:41 in the afternoon, and suddenly there’s a new email from the school titled “IMPORTANT: READ IMMEDIATELY.” No, is this what I think it might be? Already?

 

Matthew Williams <[email protected]>

To: Students, Educators, Administrators, & Staff

Good evening students, parents, teachers, and administrators. We bring you news of utmost importance that requires your full attention as the situation here is affecting all of us right now. As you may have already heard, the World Health Organization has issued a statement that they have declared the coronavirus (COVID-19) a worldwide pandemic. Cases of the coronavirus are increasing exponentially in Canada and throughout the rest of the planet. Following this incident, the governments of Ontario and Canada forced our school to shut down temporarily. Classes are fully canceled tomorrow and Friday. Conveniently, Spring Break was already planned to take place throughout all of next week, so we will use this time to create a well-made schedule to satisfy both our teachers and students when we return to classes- whether online or in-person- on Monday, March 23rd. If school turns online, the Digital Learning Plan will continue the learning of students and keep our teachers employed and active during these bizarre times. The governments have told us that they expect us to return to physical school around Monday, March 30th, but this may change in the coming weeks. Only time will tell. We appreciate your attention and understanding.

 

Stay incredible and stay safe,

Principal Matthew Williams.

 

Yeah. That was about what I thought it was going to be.

March 16, 2020 // Monday

5. “Wave”

Wednesday. We were oblivious to how much our lives would fundamentally change between the first and second halves of that day. We sort of knew it was coming, but looking back now, we really had no idea. I didn’t think that wave with Sophie would be my last for a while.

I’ve been on YouTube a lot lately, and one of the key topics I’ve been looking at is how long experts and news sources expect the pandemic to last. Most videos came down to “we’re not very sure right now,” or “the pandemic will end when vaccines are readily available in about a year or longer,” or “it depends on whether we make this a fast pandemic or a slow pandemic.” After going down a sort of rabbit hole of past pandemics and seeing graphs go up and down, I couldn’t help but notice how they looked like waves.

How Canada and the rest of the world saw Covid in China was like looking at the sea from a distance. We noticed that the tide was rising and rising, but we stayed put. Italy stood closer to shore, so it got its feet wet first. As Italy stood and the wave continued up, the water got to its ankles and up the legs. On March 11th, Italy became submerged, and for me personally, the water got to my soles. All I had to do was not drown until the tide pulled back. Whenever that was going to be.

For now, I stood tall, but as with everything this ocean wave of a pandemic brings to the world, only time will tell if I remain unbroken.

March 19, 2020 // Thursday

6. “A Strange Few Weeks”

The world seems frozen in time. March 11th feels like yesterday and a month ago at the same time. It’s been a bit boring since I’ve been locked at home for eight days with my computer, phone, drawings, diary, and not much else, but this kind of peace is right up my alley.

February 14th was when I said “the dawn is here,” and while it hasn’t been the smoothest, I’ve ended up in a good spot one month later. Isolation is one of my oldest friends, and now, it’s all I’ve got. It broke down the situation between me, Sophie, and the bullies. Our ceasefire trickled down the conflict, and the distance Sophie and I have made between each other sped up the process. As I’ve said before, togetherness creates strength in numbers, but isolation splits people into their own safety, and this time around, the latter succeeded.

None of this was happening before February, so my thought that a new dawn had arrived was accurate. Something was moving me into a fresh chapter in life, even before the pandemic took over. So, to that, I now say: “the morning is here.”

March 21, 2020 // Saturday

7. “Clover,” a poem by Nicole Chiaros

 

A tall ocean wave

Flooding the land

Flowers crumbling

Under a full reset

 

Isolation and division

Chaos and confusion

Collapse and destruction

Rapture and desperation

 

Yet one plant stands strong

Against all odds and norms

A figure of yellow and blue

Combined to the boldest green

 

Clover, clover, clover

Resilient and young

Four lucky little leaves

Unphased, even healed

 

Water, an infinite force

Capable of all

Taking and restoring

Raising death and life

 

Clover, now taller than ever

With the fruitful vigor of water

But when mortality meets infinity

The finite must eventually fall

March 23, 2020 // Monday

8. “School 2!”

Here I am now, in my cozy room with my teachers and classmates on this 2D computer screen of mine. We all had our cameras on and we looked very confused. I thought this learning format was weird but it had potential. I liked having Sophie by my side a lot of the time, but things felt safe and private here. Bryce, Cody, and Trent couldn’t do anything to me from here and no one could judge me aside from what they saw through my webcam.

I was still kind of bummed out by Bryce’s final comments on me from those weeks ago, even if I knew they wouldn’t affect me. I had an awful taste in my mouth when I thought back to when he called me a “hottie,” a “bitch,” and everything else. I was still scared of him too. I think this switch to Distance Learning hasn't been processed for me yet. Everything feels normal. Besides, I was sure we’d be going back to physical school in a couple weeks or months. This whole virus was sure to blow over once people stayed in their houses more.

The rest of the day was pretty calm and a little boring. My parents asked me how my first day of online classes was, and I was happy to report that I sort of enjoyed it. I got a big smile on my face when I could make art in class with no one watching over me and telling me I’m wrong.

April 2, 2020 // Thursday

9. “A Different Sixteenth”

I’m fairly sure no human, or creature, for that matter, before the Year of the Lord 2020 has ever had a birthday like I experienced today. In a normal timeline, my dad Oliver would have woken me up early and wished me a happy birthday, then my mom Holly would have taken me to school, then Sophie would run up to me and hug me as soon as she saw me, and then my day at school would carry on as usual. After that, my mom would pick me up, I would have a slightly longer and nicer-than-usual lunch with my parents, I would do my hours of homework, have a slightly above-average dinner, probably do a bit of unique writing or drawing, and finally, I would go to bed and my birthday would be over.

On paper, today wasn’t much different than if the pandemic didn’t sweep the earth. The major differences were that some things happened online instead of in person, and going to and from school was replaced by opening and closing my laptop. But the fact that I, some random teenage girl out of 110 billion people in all of human history, was among the first to ever have a birthday as I did. It’s beautiful to have a slice of such grand novelty in this complicated world I inhabit.

• •  •

At 5:20 in the afternoon, I got a video call from Sophie. I knew she’d never forget. I made sure my big headbow was straightened up, and I pushed the green button.

S: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY NICOLE!!!!!”

N: “Oh, wait, it’s my birthday??? I had no idea!!”

“Yeah, it is!! And I hope you’ve had a nice day so far.”

“It’s been chill, but you know, that’s a good thing sometimes. I had a fun lunch with my family. They got me a pizza with a big ‘16’ made of pepperoni.”

“Wow, you’re old, Nicole. A big sixty on a pizza for your b-day.”

“Totally, I sure feel 60 considering that you’re still 50.”

“That’s right, old lady.”

From there, the subject went into reminiscing about shared memories. Especially those from when we were in early elementary school. There was one memory in particular that I haven’t thought about in a long, long while.

S: “...Ohhhh! Remember that time in 2nd Grade when we were heading to the bathroom together, and then you went into the boys’ room and then I yelled at you for going to the wrong room? And instead of admitting your mistake like a normal person, you turned around and shouted back “I’m a MAN” in a fake deep voice. And then- hahaha- you proceeded to actually use one of the toilets. I was just standing outside laughing, waiting for you to come out.”

N: “YEAHHHH, I remember now! After that, I left without washing my hands, and then THE PRINCIPAL walked by and noticed me coming out of the boys’ bathroom. Then he asked why I was there and you said ‘she’s a MAN’ and we lost it completely.”

“OH MY GOD THAT’S RIGHTTTT. Dude… oh my God. We’re lucky he didn’t do anything. I thought we were gonna get detention or something but he just kinda laughed and left. I’m sure he went home that day telling the story to his wife.”

“Man… that was so embarrassing but so much fun. I’m glad you remembered that.” I let out a few of those soft cry-laughs, and we kept going from there.

April 10, 2020 // Friday

10. “Glowing Candle”

I started to genuinely love Distance Learning by this point. I fully embraced my introverted nature and managed my time very well. With this format I always completed my work with quality and on time, and I slowly started to see my grades improve over the last couple of days. Both my parents’ smiles glowed when I told them the news. I also began to appreciate the amount of effort my parents put into our family too. An activity we did in English earlier into online learning was to look at every object in our room and think about its value. They also showed us how gratitude is a direct cause of happiness, and I began to see that after the activity.

I felt like I was at the top. Nothing could stop me, my parents were happy, my grades were improving, and I spent more time on my art. I began to cherish candles and their beautiful design, so I began using them every evening and making pretty nice artwork from them. My room began to have wonderful scents of fresh coconuts and other fruits, and my walls looked more artistic than ever when I began posting them up.

Having my space all to myself almost all the time was a dream I didn’t know I craved so badly. I could now live with just the comfort and creativity of my own mind and reject the negativity from the outside world. In the evening tonight, I lit four candles and began making one of my finest pieces of art yet; a landscape drawing based on a picture I took of my backyard recently, which came to life with bright yellow and pink flowers. I spent a couple hours and it came out just as I hoped it would. I wanted this feeling to last forever.

April 29, 2020 // Wednesday

11. “Dusty Book”

It’s been a little while since I picked up this book. Since then, my grades are slightly better than they were before and life has remained pretty great. Not a whole lot has changed. One thing that has changed is that it’s become more common that Sophie and I have video calls together. It used to be something we did every few weekends, but now we do it three to four times per week. We pretty much talked about whatever our conversations flowed into. Thoughts on Covid, school, school during Covid, teachers, classwork, the political and economic state of the world right now, et cetera, et cetera.

Another habit I picked up was taking a walk outside whenever I was available and in the mood. In a time when I’m essentially trapped at home 24/7 and staring at a screen for the majority of my waking hours, the outside has never been so vivid and refreshing. At least in my own experience, isolation at home isn’t all that bad, but the outdoors is obviously very different. The internet provides seemingly infinite information, and the open world provides seemingly infinite breathing room. That’s one key to balance I’ve obtained in the era of isolation.

May 14, 2020 // Thursday

12. “Tipped Over”

Well, it’s already looking like that balance has been tipped over slightly. Now, closing in on the 8th week of online learning, the chewing gum has lost a bit of its flavor. Every day feels about the same, but now that my school’s slowly fading into finals season, the workload for students and teachers alike is soon piling up further.

Something subtle I’ve noticed is how it’s been a little bit harder to think clearly as of late. My thoughts are slower, hazier, and even less creative. I’m sure it has something to do with the pandemic. I’m not sure whether it’s about being in front of a computer for so long, being so socially isolated, being so physically still, not getting enough fresh air, not feeling sunlight, not drinking enough water, or some combination of many or all of those things. I want to have time for all that, but my everyday schoolwork seems never-ending.

I’ve had some trouble focusing on assignments properly, but if I go sit in the sun for 30 minutes or take a long break to drink a liter of water, I’m losing valuable time that could be spent finishing up my assignments. I’ve already had a handful of late nights sitting in my dark room to complete work on time, and I’d rather not push my sleep schedule down further.

So, now two months into the pandemic, with finals season approaching, and six full weeks of school left in the year, finding a new balance is my challenge again. After my grades in Science and Social Studies dropped this week, what I need to do has become clear. Now is the time to work on myself while working on school by myself.

May 20, 2020 // Wednesday

13. “Gearing Up”

My fears have been confirmed, and I should have fully anticipated them from the start. On Monday, Socials introduced a whole new American Revolution unit (despite this being a Canadian school), and Math began another unit and announced a unit test and a final exam set for June 10th and 18th, respectively. The teachers made sure we understood that these assignments would make up a large portion of our grade and represented the end of the class as a whole.

Yesterday, another two classes rolled out their project timelines for us to follow until the end of June. PE with a Just Dance unit, and Science class with a long final project about the Serengeti region in Africa. And finally, today, the remaining three classes did the same. English class with a fat science fiction project, French class with an argumentative essay that had to be written entirely in French, and Art with a 1920s Art Deco unit.

The teachers had barely given us any heavy work yet, but the pressure was already tightening up around me. This is gonna be a long ride from now to the end of the school year on June 26th, and in all honesty, part of me was already itching to get off this speeding car named “distance learning.” Time is gonna start running really short, and I feel like my balance might soon collapse.

 

May 26, 2020 // Tuesday

14. “Long Drive Ahead”

It’s a really cliché thing to think, but whenever I glanced at the date and time today, I always thought “it’s only Tuesday?” I think it normally happens to people because we don’t consciously keep track of the week frequently enough or because we’re overwhelmed with work or homework. For me today, it was the latter because I worked all day today, all day yesterday, and all day Sunday, so my brain was skewed to believe it was the third day of the work week, not the second.

I’m just gonna speed-write how each class has been recently so I can refer back to it later.

Period 1 Socials: Each assignment since the start of the unit has been way too big to be completed in one class, so I’ve had a bunch of Socials homework lately. A lot of research and a lot of writing.

Period 2 Math: I’ve got a big handful of incomplete work because trying to understand the material is frustrating and confusing. I hate Geometry.

Period 3 PE: The coach announced yesterday that my team and I need to be ready to submit and present our video by June 11th. It had to be edited so that our dancing was clear and synched with the rest of the group despite each of us being several miles apart and dancing alone in front of a camera. I’ve been practicing quite a bit on my own time but I strongly doubt my team has done the same.

Period 4 Science: The workload is a bit heavy and the Serengeti stuff isn’t that bad actually. This last assignment was the worst one, so I hope the unit doesn’t go downhill from there.

Period 5 English: A lot of work but the material is kinda fun and interesting. I got to watch Star Wars Episode II yesterday afternoon on my bed, so that was something. Not as bad as many people have said, in my humble opinion.

Period 6 French: I’ve made the least amount of progress here. I would like to get the rest of my classes out of the way so I can focus on this later without too many other distractions. Sadly, I don’t think that would work all that well.

Period 7 Art: This is the lightest class in terms of work and material. So far, it’s good. My favorite class at the moment.

Overall, there’s a ton of work I have to deal with almost every day. So far I’m handling it mostly okay, but that’s not to say I want more work. I had that strategy of knocking out one class’s final projects at a time, but multiple classes are piling on new assignments every day rather than just letting us do things at our own pace for a few weeks. I’ll probably just have to keep doing what I’m doing for a long while. I’d like the weekend to come already, but it’s only Tuesday.

June 1, 2020 // Monday

15. “Clicking / Tasks,” a poem by Nicole Chiaros

 

Clicking, clacking

Tapping, poking

 

Staring, glaring

Sitting, slouching

 

Numbing, melting

Breaking, cracking

 

Dissolving, deteriorating

Crumbling, falling

 

------

 

I am not a human

I am a worker

I finish tasks

And repeat the process

 

I am not a human

I am a robot

I am given instructions

And I fulfill them

 

I do not create

I only complete

Don’t call me or talk to me

Instead, just input your commands

June 9, 2020 // Tuesday

16. “Tree Seed”

My parents dismissed me from the dinner table mid-meal. I don’t get why they’re so worried about my grades when they’re only a little low right now and since my grades will go up with all the hours of effort I’ve been putting into every day. I was quite productive last week, but my teachers simply need to grade my stuff and I need to finish the rest of my assignments. At the table, my voice was bold, loud, and fierce, but my parents snatched it away from me and sent me to my bedroom. I can’t be quiet all the time. I can’t be polite in every situation. My thoughts can’t always bubble in my head and go nowhere.

After I locked my bedroom door from the inside, I took refuge by lighting a different candle of mine, labeled “Moonlit Orchard.”

About ten minutes passed, and my passionate anger was receding and shrinking back to its little corner in my soul. I breathed in, and I breathed out. In, out, in, out. I was calm again. My polite self was back. I sat and observed the candle’s flame dance on the wick. I grinned, just a hair. I liked this.

This is what I do at night. My fellow classmates would never tolerate such simple tranquility. Not in high school, not ever. My good old friend Sophie could have, maybe if I or someone was there with her. My parents probably couldn’t take it either. Well, at least not my dad Oliver; a tall, muscular, squared, confident man with the tensest biceps I’ve ever seen, and a man who wore lumberjack shirts and a fat handy belt every day of the week would surely see this as a waste of time. My mom Holly would probably enjoy this serenity. Based on her career as the owner of a small but fairly successful candle shop, I think it is safe to say that enjoying candles is a pretty important trait for her and not having it would be strang. Her energy was usually reserved, like mine. Her favorite colors were violet and yellow, which were close to mine. Despite all this, we were not all that close. She was a homely door left halfway open, while I was a metal door closed and locked shut with only a peephole to look through.

Contrary to my social setting, the open outdoors was where I loved to be. My dad was perhaps even more passionate about the natural world than I was, specifically with the forest. He lived with the trees, yet his path in life went down with chopping the very things he loved. I was a very young girl when my dad took me out to the deep, lush woods and he explained his job as a lumberjack. Words of great doubt and concern fled from my naive mouth. What he was doing was evil! The trees were so pretty and he was killing them! My dad chuckled, reached for his pocket, and summoned a single seed. I peered my round, ghostly, blue eyes even wider as I wondered what this small object could do. My dad stepped to the side and marched forward somewhere. My cautious, nimble steps followed his bold, long stomps. After a handful of concerned but gleeful moments, he settled down ahead of me, on a flat, sunlit area, maybe a dozen meters in diameter with not a single tree within it.

Excited, he waved me over to the center of the spot. I fumbled around until we were side-by-side. With his big hands, he dug out a hole a few inches wide and deep, and he showed me the seed once again until he placed it in the very middle of the hole. He glanced behind his back and snatched a steel bottle. It popped open, and a stream of fresh, pure water splashed down onto the poor little seed. He scooped the excavated dirt back together until the seed disappeared from sight. Silently and slowly, he pointed to all the trees surrounding the open area and then pointed at the seed. A microscopic “oh” flew away from my lips. It clicked with me. Yes, he did things that hurt the environment and helped humans live as they do now, but he always returned the favor by cleaning up after himself and leaving something that will help future generations live in a very slightly better world. Balance.

I was back in the present again, and after twenty more minutes of silent thought, I blew out the candle. Sleep is good. Great, in fact. Simply essential, by nature. Undeniably the key to unlocking a flourishing, young body, such as the one that my young mind inhabits. Without a doubt, a cornerstone of maintaining a fully fleshed out, living, breathing, moving human capable of contributing to the greatest animal empire ever seen in the Earth’s history while being able to ponder what it means to exist and wondering why we are us… Alright, that’s enough.

June 11, 2020 // Thursday

17. “Zeal”

Today was great for one reason and one reason only. I woke up energized and ready to go, and this zest didn’t go away after breakfast, after a Zoom meeting, after the school day, or even after an afternoon of homework. All I did was work, work, and work, which cannot be any less similar to yesterday, which consisted of procrastination and failed attempts to concentrate on schoolwork. I would look at the document in front of me, open up YouTube, close the tab, look at my assignment again, and proceed to watch one or more YouTube videos before repeating the process again or scrolling through Instagram. To the contrary, today, all I could do was concentrate on the things that mattered. I was confused by the games my mind was playing on itself, but at least I got a digital pile of work done today.

After I closed my laptop for the final time tonight, I realized how much my eyes were burning and how painful my headache was. I didn’t care though. I just cleared out almost a dozen hours of work from my list of pending assignments. Because of the oddly-enjoyable hell I went through today, the path ahead looks a bit clearer now. Sure, I’ve still got plenty of work to do left, but now, at least for a minute, I can breathe.

June 15, 2020 // Monday

18. “One of Many”

These have been some really long weeks. My average bedtime has shifted even further into the night, to where it’s no longer rare that I stay up until 1:00 in the morning staring at my screen in the complete darkness and silence of my room in order to finish an assignment or make progress on a project. For a few days now, I have noticed an upswing in my grades, which makes me feel good about the dozens and dozens of hours I’m putting in every week.

My eyes have felt a burning pain almost every day as of late, and headaches have been happening when I have especially long days. It feels strange to say but my eyebrows have been hurting quite a bit recently, which is probably because of so much squinting.

• •  •

As I’m writing this, it’s 2:41 in the morning and to put it blunt, I feel like shit. I just completed my Social Studies final project, which means I’m done with two of seven total classes, but only one core class out of five. I don’t count the PhysEd video as a major project too much because all I had to do was practice dancing and then record myself and send it to the editor of our group. I can’t wait to finish my third class, and then my fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh. Working my ass off for a whole month straight and knowing I’ve only got 2/7 classes completed is real fun. I love life so much.

June 17, 2020 // Wednesday

19. “Dear God”

Dear God, please help me. My eyes have been punctured with a thousand tiny needles, searing my retinas dry whenever I dare look at a white screen. Even when I close my eyes, I still feel it. My head is lighter than a party balloon, and my brain very literally feels foggy. It’s a miracle I’m still able to concentrate on work. Whenever I stay up until the Devil’s hour of 3 AM in order, my computer is beyond dizzying to stare at. It’s sickening, honestly. Down to my stomach. I despise the torture I’m willingly putting myself through, but it’s a sacrifice that will pay off in the future. I know exactly what I need to keep myself healthy, but right now, my mission is more important to me.

Right now, it’s a bit past midnight on what is now technically Thursday, and this is one of the few short brakes I’ve given myself in the past few days. I’ve been making solid progress on my classes and things are looking good. This feels like Hell but looks like a new kind of purgatory. One where I start in hell and steadily but miserably work my way up a cliff. A cliff taller than the thickness of the Earth’s mantle. But once I reach a certain point in this journey, there is a plateau. It is the divine land of Heaven. From that point on, there is little to worry about aside from having to repeat the process all over in the future a good few more times. That’s not something I should worry about though. For now, I climb and climb and climb.

June 19, 2020 // Friday

20. “Heave Then, Breathe Now”

Like titanic dominoes, my final projects for each class started tumbling one by one. As I wrote about, I finished Socials on Monday late at night, then Art on Tuesday afternoon, English on Wednesday evening, Science on Wednesday late at night, then Math yesterday morning with the exam, and finally French late this morning. This week didn’t feel as much like a week as much as one very long day with a few naps and rests sprinkled throughout it. Sometimes I slept on purpose, other times I would just close my eyes while working on an assignment and I’d be asleep before I knew it.

It’s extremely jarring to think, but it’s all over now. I was done. The summer was already halfway here. All I had to do was wait for my teachers to grade my work, and I would be finished completely. Maybe I’d even get an award if I did good enough. After I turned in my French essay, I felt guilty for not immediately working on something different or new. Now, I could take a long, deep breath. I think this is Heaven.

June 23, 2020 // Tuesday

21. “One Less Eternity”

Every day since Saturday was a day wasted online. I was just waiting, and waiting, and waiting for my teachers to finally finish updating my crappy grades so I can make myself and my parents proud of the hell I went through this month. But this morning, at 7:37 AM, my wish was granted and my official grades were published, and it all looked beautiful. Not a single class grade that ended with less than a 3.2. My spirit turned from flatly neutral to overwhelmingly giggly and excited.

After I finished laughing and grinning to myself, I calculated my GPA for this semester. 3.57 out of 4. Online school was working. This was proof of the beauty in isolation. There. Right in front of me. Like a volcano filled up with all sorts of positive emotions, I screamed “yes!” at the top of my lungs and my voice cracked terribly, and immediately I began laughing with my hands over my mouth since my parents probably heard my stupid little gaffe out of nowhere. I looked insane sitting there almost tearing up from laughter and glee.

Once about fifteen seconds had passed since my shriek of joy, I heard a light knock on my door and a manly voice whispered, “Nicole? Is everything alright?”

After I said “yeah,” my dad came into my room like he was a flashlight-wielding kid entering a haunted house in a horror movie. He turned to me with a subtle look of genuine fear and concern. I looked straight in his eyes and could tell he was thinking “what the actual hell is wrong with you?”

“Sorry… I just saw my final grades and got a bit excited,” I said. His confusion dissipated straight away, and he replied: “Oh, yeah? Do you mind if I could get a look?”

Normally, I would be flooded with nervousness and hesitation, but for the first time in a long time, I was actively open to sharing my report card. After I said “sure” and handed my laptop to him, I thought about myself. Nicole Chiaros in 2020 was like Nicole 2. After a decade and a half of transformation, I came out as a good student and as a good person. At least I thought so.

“Wow,” my dad mumbled. “Fantastic, Nicole.” I smiled as he continued staring at the screen. “This is excellent, really.” He turned over to me. “I’m so proud of you, Nicole. I really am. French class could have ended better, but… still. I’ll be honest, I haven’t gotten to talk to you as much as we did before this crazy coronavirus thing since you’ve been in your room a lot of the time, but I’m glad you used your time wisely and drove your grades up to something I haven’t seen from you in… years. I’m sure it was hard for you. No one in the world has ever experienced this, yet you excelled. Wonderfully done. Here, let me tell your mother.”

“Yeah,” I said as he passed the computer back to me. Before I knew it, both my parents were in my little pandemic isolation chamber that I called my bedroom. “Nicole, my sweetie!!” my mom cheered. “Show me how you did!” I stood up, and they followed me to my bed where I placed my computer. I stood there as both my parents scanned my report card.

“Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,” my mom said. She did one of those classic mom things by hugging me, then letting go with her hands still on my shoulders and looking at me with a crying/smiling face, and then hugging me again. She stepped back with a tear on each side of her face.

“I’m speechless, Nicole… I’m just so pleased to see this… your French could be better but the rest is fantastic.”

I smiled and rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know. Thanks.”

My mom nodded. My dad spoke up and said: “Again, we take so much pride in your accomplishments, Nicole. This is what every parent loves to see from their kids, and for that, we love you dearly. Congratulations.” My mom wiped away her tears as I began letting some loose. I looked down, nodded, and looked back up with my face turned red. “Thank you… I love you.” “Aww, sweetie,” my mom uttered. The three of us hugged together. I needed a sappy moment like this. I needed it badly.

• •  •

Several hours later, I checked back to my grades, and above them all, I noticed a new message.

“Congratulations NICOLE CHIAROS, you have been selected to receive one or more awards of recognition for your academic performance during the 2019-2020 school year. You will receive a digital copy of your award(s) after the online meeting on FRIDAY, JUNE 26, 2020 that begins at 11:00 AM Eastern Daylight Time. Your teachers and/or administrators will send you a link to the meeting prior to the ceremony.”

Hell yeah.

June 24, 2020 // Wednesday

22. “Past the Finish Line”

My good mood continued as one sunny day ended and in came another. I lit a candle. A beautiful yellow one called “Flowers in the Sun.” My bedroom was peaceful. At last, I was long past the finish line and the ceremony was inching above the horizon. I could breathe a sigh of relief. I did well this year. My best in a long while.

Why I peaked four years ago and slipped in the subsequent years is complicated, but I think for the most part, it was a change within me rather than a change within my schoolwork. From when I was born in 2004, to when I entered school in 2007, and up to my time in 5th Grade in 2015-16, high grades were my primary focus in school and everything else didn’t matter to me. I was the perfect student, but a lacking human. Truly knowledgeable but not necessarily interesting. Exceedingly obedient but critically naive socially. High-performing in academics but oblivious to the real world. Entering middle school, this was not who I wanted to be.

As I naturally turned into a more self-aware individual, I wanted to turn to the majority. I didn’t want to be a show-off. I didn’t want to be the teacher’s pet. I wanted others to like me by being them. So I stopped caring as much. Early in middle school, my peers would be sprawled out around the classroom on the floor, carpets, and bean bags. Their laptops were almost always facing away from wherever the teacher was. They pretended to work on the classwork but it was pretty clear they were on Spotify, YouTube, or one of many local multiplayer games. When my generation moved to the MSHS building after 5th Grade, they took that opportunity of a reset and turned lazy and constantly sought out whatever brought them instant pleasure. No longer were we burdened by teachers who knew us, and no longer were we in our prepubescent phase where we were compliant and submissive. So, a few weeks into 6th Grade, I began noticing my classmates’ behavior and the teachers’ lack of enforcement. One day, I finally decided, “why the hell not?” and sat in the corner of the room and browsed YouTube with my headphones on after the Social Studies teacher gave the class their instructions. I never got in trouble. Sure, my classmates didn’t seem to be open to letting me play Flappy Golf with them, but I was alright with that. I was already on the right path to being accepted.

It wasn’t all the time that I completely wasted my class time in the name of comfort and conformity, but when I was on task, my work was still fairly subpar. And did I finish my work at home? Sometimes, and if I did, I wouldn’t put much effort or time into it. It was cool to not care. “We’re grown up now, we don’t have to listen to you.” It’s every teenager’s favorite internal saying. And with the hindsight of my grades turning mediocre or decent for the next three school years, they weren’t my proudest times. My grades weren’t awful, but they were certainly a bit below my parents’ expectations and below what I was capable of. I’m glad those years are behind me.

Not only am I a far, far more developed person now than I was four years ago, but I was nearly able to catch up with my grades from when I was a perfect goody-two-shoes student. Did I just complete my search for balance? Have two opposite sides of my behavior from 2004-2016 and 2016-2019 coalesced in 2020? Was I complete, and what did this mean for me?

June 26, 2020 // Friday

23. “Blood, Sweat, and Tears”

The final day of 9th Grade arrived at long last. The school day consisted of only an hour-long online meeting, so I would relish in my own academic success and still end this painful school year sooner rather than later. I woke up with a vigor I haven’t felt in months. I was finally on the road to recovery. What a pain-in-the-ass of a month.

The ceremony was scheduled to begin at 11:00, but I joined the call six minutes early just because I was waiting so anxiously. The school website guaranteed that I got at least one, but considering where my grades ended up, there’s no telling just how many awards I would get. After I greeted Principal Williams and a few teachers, I waited in silence. Today was finally my day to shine in front of my entire generation. My craving for recognition was higher than ever. Tuesday wasn’t enough.

Once everyone started piling in, I was really getting thrilled. Later, I zoned out during most of the principal’s speech, but at the end I did pick up that each class gave away a Content award, meaning that a student was clearly very skilled in the subject of the class, and the Virtue award, meaning that a student clearly cared about the class or enjoyed it. Something like that. I just wanted the awards.

At 11:16, the slideshow began. First came Math. No award. That’s alright. Then came Science. No award. That wasn’t my thing anyways. French. No award, but Sophie got the Content award. I guess having the last name Fournier does something. I smiled and clapped, and Sophie clearly noticed by waving both her hands and grinning. Again, I wasn’t great at French and I didn’t enjoy the class all that much, so there’s no big deal. Social Studies. No award. I ended the class with a 3.9 this semester, but maybe someone got a 4 or showed more effort.

ENGLISH. Alright, finally, here we go. I loved English class and I was great at it. This was it. I was READY… and I got no award. ART. Okay, this was definitely it. I got at least one award, and this had to be it. Same case for English; I adored art and my work was high-quality. The next slide came and… no award. At least Sophie got a Content award. I clapped a bit. I tried to remember what other classes they hadn’t brought up, and as soon as I recalled PhysEd, I saw my face pop up on my screen. One of the admin announced: “The Virtue Award for Physical Education goes to Nicole Chiaros!” What the hell did I do all year that showed that I cared about PhysEd at all? Why me?

After each award was announced, some or most people would put a reaction on Zoom with a clapping emoji or they would quietly clap while their cameras were on. When my award was announced, I saw Sophie clapping excitedly along while a few teachers and about two students clapped lazily. That bully Bryce put up a clapping emoji a whole seven seconds after my award was announced. Asshole. He could have just done nothing and I would have felt better.

Following the PhysEd awards, the presentation cut to a slide saying “Thank you and congrats! Any questions?” Wait, wait, wait. That was it? I had many questions flashing in my head, but I settled on one to ask and put up a hand emoji.

“Yes, Nicole?” Principal Williams asked.

I unmuted myself. “Hi. Um, so we’re getting an image of our awards, right?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Alright, and I’m guessing it’ll be through email later today?”

“Well, that was our plan at first, but our email manager recently informed us that he is very sick and would rather not look at computer screens. So, we will either send you an email with an award early next school year or we will give you the physical version whenever we come back to school.”

“Wait, but why couldn’t one of you just send the email yourselves? Or why can’t the email manager just do it when he feels better? Or why can’t you just give us the link to the slide-”

“Nicole,” my Science teacher interrupted sternly. I stayed quiet.

Principal Williams continued, “Well, that’s all for now. Congratulations to our students and staff for your hard work. Have a great summer everyone! Stay safe and stay healthy! Thank you.” In seconds, people started disappearing from the Zoom meeting en masse. I was the last student there, and I left without smiling or saying a word. God. I don’t even want to write about this. I feel smoke coming out of my goddamn nose right now. I was ripped off today. What a complete facade of a ceremony. Shame on everyone. I deserve better than this shit.

June 30, 2020 // Tuesday

24. “Hollow Summer”

Well, it’s Tuesday morning and school’s over. I had to do something from this point until September 7th, so I came up with something I somehow didn’t think of in the last three months: I should meet up with Sophie. My first thought was: was it safe to meet with her at this point in the pandemic?

I booted up my computer, looked up the number of daily Covid cases in Canada, and it looked promising. After the 7-day average peaked at 1,797 daily cases on May 3rd, it was a straight line down all the way to 274 daily cases as of yesterday, the lowest point since March 23rd. 15% of the peak? I did calculations, and only about 1 in every 138,686 Canadians tested positive every day at the current rate. That was pretty great. Really great, actually.

I enjoyed the endless content of YouTube until lunchtime, where Mom was serving the family some nice ravioli meals. After a couple peaceful, quiet moments of me, my dad, and my mom sitting and eating together, I brought up the courage to bring up my simple yet radical idea to my parents. My parents looked up at me once I cleared my throat. “Hey, um, so I was thinking that now that school’s over, maybe I could start seeing Sophie again?”

My mom, coming alive with the parental urge of protection, responded first, with “Already?” She poked at a ravioli with her fork and ate the pasta. “You know we’re only three months into this pandemic, right? There’s a long way until the vaccine is available, dear. What if you meet with her and bring back the virus to all of us? Many people are dying from this, Nicole. What if one of us died? Our family would fall apart completely just because you wanted to meet with your friends for a few hours of fun.”

I let out a loud “what?” I glanced over at my dad, expecting him to immediately back me up. The chance that one of us dies is almost null! Let alone the chance of being infected alone! However, he was slightly hesitant.

“Well,” he began. “It’s only a chance that one of us would die, and a small one at that, but your mother does have a point. If something were to go wrong, it could go very, very wrong. Our little family would never ever be the same. You would most likely be fine since you’re 16 and healthy, and while Holly and I are both healthy as well, we’re in our mid-40s.” A long second of silence. “Yes, it is important that you keep your social life intact and that you get out of the house more, but if we decide to allow you to do so, we may ask that you take major safety precautions to at least reduce the risk of a tragedy.”

I looked down and to the side. Seconds later, I gazed back up. “But the chance of one of us-”

“We know, it’s a chance,” my mom countered. “But just imagine the devastation that would come from a scenario where we become a broken family. Besides, couldn’t you and your friends just text or call online? You can use Zoom, like me and my friends do.”

“The thing is, you two aren’t even that ol-”

“Nicole, listen to your mother.”

I stopped. I didn’t want to push them too hard, so for now I decided to leave the idea out in the air. With that time, perhaps they could think about it and realize just how unlikely a theoretical situation is from happening and turning life-threatening. It’s completely absurd. But they’re just looking out for their health and mine, so if that’s what they want, I’ll keep myself safe for at least a bit longer. I’m not done trying to get my already minimal social life back in order.

After a couple of minutes, the air cleared and the conversation shifted to what we wanted to be delivered online from the supermarket. I craved chocolate-chip cookies. And lemonade too. Yum.

July 7, 2020 // Tuesday

25. “Two-Wick Candle,” a poem by Nicole Chiaros

 

Sole soft flame,

Alone and at peace

What do you want,

If not to shine?

 

Beauty in isolation

Is all you seek,

But what if you

Shined brighter as two?

 

Dual suns, dual stars

Spinning together

Forever together

Is the dark any lighter?

 

One is lonely,

Two is balanced,

Will you be two?

Can we be two?

A two-wick candle?

July 11, 2020 // Saturday

26. “Fingers Crossed”

It has been eleven days since I last brought up the idea of meeting up with Sophie to my parents, and this boring Saturday morning felt like the perfect opportunity. They had to have thought I would have been fairly bored without anything to do for two weeks, and Canadian Covid cases (and deaths) have remained low and flat over the last weeks, so maybe this was it.

The scene was like it was last time. The three of us sat in a circle, and once the conversation about the pleasant weather had calmed down… I hesitated for a moment. My parents would have probably said the same things as last time, but I had to let out my thoughts. For me and for Sophie. “Hey, so I’ve noticed the Covid cases here in Canada and they’ve been steady and low for a little while now.”

My mom looked up from her pancakes. “What are you… getting at?”

My dad knew what was up. “Mm,” he mumbled as he swallowed his omelet. “Nicole’s talking about getting together with Sophie.”

They looked at each other for a couple seconds. “Alright. Listen, Nicole,” my dad said as he leaned forward a little. “Your mother and I have been talking about this recently and…” He looked over at Mom again. I shrugged “what?”

“... And we’ve decided it’s about time you get back together ONLY if you promise to always wear one or two masks and if you always take a bottle of hand sanitizer. Just please do this and we’d happily let you see each other again.”

Alright, we were getting somewhere. “Okay, that’s cool, but is the double mask and hand sanitizer really necessary? The percentage of people infected in Canada is really small-”

“Nicole,” he cut in. “Do you wanna see Sophie?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then… I think you know what to do.”

“Yeah. I do. Thanks for this.” A smile lit inside me, but I was not gonna wear two masks or spray my hands every time I touched anything. Maybe if cases went up a lot in the near future, but with only 1/131,000 of the country getting infected each day, one mask is probably more than enough. Still, seeing Sophie in the flesh with some safety measures is a lot better than not at all.

After we all finished breakfast, I hid in my room and shared the good news. I opened Sophie’s contact and pressed that little phone icon with excitement.

“Nicole? What’s up?”

“It’s the sky, Sophie. And this time around, it’s bright!”

“Oh, yeah? What’s going on?”

“So my parents are letting me go out with friends again, which, heh, basically means just you.”

“Woah, really? Nice! You know, I’ve actually been meaning to invite you for a while, but yeah I’ve just been waiting for your thumbs up. I’ve been seeing other friends recently but like of course I’m really happy to see you again!”

“Oh, that’s cool. How long have your parents been letting you out?”

“Since like the 19th of June or so. They wanted me to finish all my schoolwork and then let me out. But yeah. So, let’s get ya back too. How does Monday at my house sound?”

“That’s great! I think. I’ll double check with my parents. You know how they are.”

“Yeah. Alright, let me know, Nicole!”

“Alright, bye!” We’re back!!

July 13, 2020 // Monday

27. “New Beginnings”

The afternoon air never smelled so good. The trees never looked so green. The sky never seemed so deep. It had been such a damn long time since I took that 30-minute walk to Sophie’s place. The path to her house was mostly along a long stretch of land higher than the highway right down to the side. Along the way, there were some forested areas and some empty spaces. As is life, isn’t it?

As with the rest of the world, Sophie’s house never looked so appealing. Big, modern, brown, white, and with plenty of windows. As I walked through the pathway and put my yellow cloth mask on, I noticed Sophie was waiting for me in her kitchen. She walked over to the front door and opened it before I even got there. “Oh my God, Nicole!” she exclaimed.

I just laughed and went up and gave her a long ‘n’ strong hug.

“Nicole, I think you’re taller now, hahaha.”

“Oh, thanks for making that the first thing you tell me after four months, yeah. Thanks, Soph. I think you grew a bit too there.”

“I just had to say it, Nic. I think your voice is deeper too. You’ve changed.”

“Yup… I’ve been through a lot.”

“Well, come on in!”

Immediately, I saw a yellow candle lit on my left, in the kitchen, and I noticed a blue candle lit on the right, in the living room. I got a big smirk on my face. “Wow. Is it my birthday or did you create a new holiday called Nicole Day?”

“Well, I haven’t seen you since you were 15, so maybe April 2nd can be on July 13th this year. So, happy birthday. 2020 sure as hell is a different year.”

“You can say that again. As many times as you’d like.”

“So… what do you wanna do now?”

“We can go to your room.”

“Sure. Want to bring up the Chiaros Candles?”

“Yeah- wait, when did I ever tell you the name of my mom’s old candle shop? Chiaros Candles; that’s literally the name of the store.”

“Where do you think I got them from? Well, anyways, fetch the blue candle, would ya? I’ll get the other one.”

We split up, picked up our candles, and came back together and went up the wide staircase in front of the entrance.

“Oh, Sophie, would you look at that? I’m wearing yellow and I’m with the blue candle, and you’re wearing blue and you’re with the yellow candle. You had this all planned out, didn’t you?”

“I told you I’d been waiting to invite you over.” She turned to the right of the hallway and went through the doorway on the right, and I followed her into her bedroom. Inside, the space was brighter, whiter, and tidier than I remembered. I pointed it out to her.

“Yeah, it is, thank you! A couple weeks into quarantine, my parents realized just how much time I was spending in my bedroom and they decided that the box I lived in should look nicer. So, they called a painter one weekend, which was not easy considering, you know, mass layoffs and the insane unemployment rate. And after the painter was finished and my room was ready to be used again, I became more organized for the same reason my parents wanted my room redecorated.”

“Hah, wow. I sure can learn something from you.” I had a good look at the whole room. Her desk was completely clean aside from her neatly-placed laptop. “My desk is always half busy with my candles and then I’ve got papers and junk on it. I don’t focus too much while working there, but when I’ve got candles lit, I think it helps.”

“Oh? I work pretty efficiently right here. On easy days, I can be done with all my schoolwork by 5:30. It’s nice to be free.”

“5:30 in the afternoon?”

“Yeah, duh... Nicole… don’t tell me you stay up until 5:30 at night.”

I looked down and to the side. “Not always.”

Sophie gave me a dirty look. “Sleep. Late-nighters mess up everything. You literally can’t remember stuff when you’re short on rest.” She sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I ended this semester really well, though. 3.57 GPA, I think.” I sat on her desk chair. We both held on to our candles.

“I had something like a 3.48 but I probably got a hell of a lot more sleep than you did. Online school was smooth sailing. Well, in terms of assignments. Everything else not so much.” She faced out the large window.

“Really? Sort of the opposite for me. I’d spend long hours on homework. I pretty much worked all day most of the time. What was hard for you?”

She looked down and breathed. “My social life took a hard hit. There was nothing like physical interaction and it was gone. Texts and calls are a necessary but terrible replacement to being face-to-face.” She faced the sky again. I kept my eyes on her. “I hate to bring the mood down, but depression wasn’t all that rare for me.”

“Depression? You always seemed A-okay whenever you called me, Sophie. The same goes for your texts.”

“You sounded happy too.” She looked at me. “I didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

“So you hid your pain from me for months?”

“Look. Can we not talk about this? It’s in the past now. We’ve all been buried under trauma, and now we’re suffocating moles trying to claw out of it before we break.” I gulped. She faced the floor away from me. A blanket of silence covered the room. “I’m sorry, Nicole,” she whispered loudly. “I should have said something.” More silence.

“You’re right. We’re alone in the world and united in trauma.” My blue candle grew and flickered until it calmed down with the tension in the room. While we both set our gazes on the floor, I peeked over and noticed Sophie’s candle move in roughly the same way. I focused on my flame. My sole soft flame. Memories of pain from the last couple of months started flowing in. Endless cycles of trauma and misery. But after a few minutes, brighter thoughts started brushing through my mind. The pain was in the past. Sure, the pandemic wasn’t over, but at least now, we were together and free from the grasp of school.

After a few more quiet minutes, I stood up from the desk chair. Sophie turned to me. Softly, I asked: “Did the flame speak to your soul?”

“Yes. It sure did. I feel brighter inside.”

I nodded. “I am soothed. We are two, yet we are one.” I held up my blue candle. Sophie smiled and held up her yellow candle towards me. We were two pieces of one another.

July 22, 2020 // Wednesday

28. “My Dear Diary”

The day after I met up with Sophie last week, my parents set up a rule where I couldn’t see friends more than one time per week. I was fine with it initially, but after a few days of just being home and occasionally taking walks, every day started to feel pretty boring. Sure, video calls with Sophie were good, but they were nothing like being there physically. Sure, I could draw or write, but there’s only so much creativity and only so much going on in my life until things start looking the same. There’s so much going on in the world; pandemics, protests, recessions, inflation, division, and more. Yet so little is happening here in day-to-day life. It’s a struggle to keep up optimism or happiness, but at least today, I got to see Sophie again.

A little after lunch, I put on my shoes, put on my big ol’ bow, plugged in my earbuds to my phone, grabbed my diary, put a mask in my pocket, and enjoyed a pleasant, refreshing walk to Sophie’s place with chirpy tunes from Canadian artist Grimes’ debut album. I had a big smile on my face the whole time. With all that and the delightful weather, it was a really nice walk, what could I say?

When I was halfway down her pathway, Sophie got up from the same spot as last time and again, opened the door partially before I even got there.

“Hello, stranger,” she said. “I see you’ve brought quite some stuff.”

I looked down at my diary in my left hand and then noticed I hadn’t taken off my earphones yet, and neither had I put on my blue mask yet. I fixed those issues.

“Yes, I have! I thought I’d like to share some stuff with you.”

“Absolutely. Welcome in.”

She opened the door wide open, and I came inside. I peeked at both the kitchen and living room, and I saw a white candle in one room and a blue one in the other. I was wearing blue, and she was wearing white.

“Hey, Sophie. I have two questions for you.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Okay, first: where are your parents? They weren’t here last Monday and they’re not here now.”

“Well, on the 13th, my parents just had long work days and also had a big dinner with them and their friends, and this week they’ve gone on a ‘business trip’ out east, conveniently near some great beaches that are probably close to empty.”

“Alright, second: how the hell did you know I was going to wear blue today?”

“I know you, Nicole. Yellow one week, blue the next. Those are your colors.”

“Damn it. You’re smart.”

Sophie went to the living room for the blue candle, I went to the kitchen for the white one, and we went up the stairs and into her bedroom.

“So. What’s with the book? Is it your diary?”

“It sure is. It’s got some other stuff too, and that’s what I want to show you.”

I started pacing around her room slowly.

“I don’t remember if I’ve told you yet,” I said. “But a few months ago I started writing poetry. I think it was when Covid had just hit. I haven’t shared it with anyone, and I’ve been waiting for this day to show it to you. Maybe you could give me your thoughts? But that’s only if you’re interested.”

“Of course I’d love to read it. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don't know.”

“Aren’t I your closest friend?”

“Yeah. Um, forget about it. Let me find my first poem.”

I flipped through pages upon pages of my diary until I landed on February 9th.

“Here,” I said as I handed the book to Sophie. “It’s called ‘Burrows.’”

She took a minute to read through it. 

“Hm,” she mumbled. “It’s pretty good! It’s not perfect. Something about the 

wording and the flow. But for a first poem, it’s great! I can tell where the inspiration came from. To be fair, I’m probably the only other person in the world who would know what it’s based on.”

“That’s true, haha. Oh, let me show you more.”

I sat beside her on the bed and flipped forward multiple pages to March 21st. 

Her eyes scrolled through the lines.

“Wow,” she said. “Wowww… this is great, Nicole. Really great.”

“Really really?”

She turned to me. “Of course, Nicole. Why would you doubt yourself? This is fantastic! You should’ve shown this to me earlier. You should show this to more people.”

“Yeah? But what if they don’t like it?”

She tilted her head. “Are you kidding me? You’re not serious, right?”

I said nothing. She watched me.

“You have a talent, Nicole. Why not show it off?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know if people would think it’s good. Maybe you think it’s good, but maybe the rest of the world thinks it sucks.”

“‘Maybe’ means nothing. Put yourself out there. Step into the spotlight and revel in it! You deserve it! You could even show it to your teachers if you think people in our generation wouldn’t like it.”

“Hm. You’re right about the generation not liking it. They don’t care about me and I shouldn’t care about them. I just have thoughts that maybe the teachers would tell me they like my poetry more than they really do. Because they’re teachers.”

“What do you think of your work?”

“It’s pretty good, I think. I feel like I’ve gotten better over time.”

“It’s great stuff, and you’ve absolutely gotten better over time. I’m being 100% percent honest.” Sophie closed the diary.

“When it comes to poetry and writing, I’m just some average kid,” she continued. “Imagine a teacher who knows good poetry and she sees your stuff. They’re gonna be proud! They’re gonna want you to keep going! They’ll see that you have a passion for this, and showing them your work could even help you get accepted into better schools. Imagine letting that opportunity slip because maybe your teacher doesn’t think your work is good.”

“Alright. I’ll consider it. Thank you for believing in me, Sophie. I don’t feel this way very often. To feel supported.”

“Of course. I’m always happy to help out.” She smiled.

I love Sophie. She always knows what’s best. I just have to start following her words and leave my fears in the forest.

July 31, 2020 // Friday

29. “Doubt,” a poem by Nicole Chiaros

 

Doubt, fear

Peers, fear

Views, fear

Judgment, fear

 

Doubt, fear

World, fear

Shame, fear

Disgrace, fear

 

Doubt, fear

Family, fear

Nonconformity, fear

Disappointment, fear

 

What is my work worth?

Will anyone look?

Will anyone care?

Will anyone remember me?

In the end, it’s all up to me.

August 8, 2020 // Saturday

30. “Homemade Pizza”

This week, I decided to invite Sophie over to my house for a change. She was so kind for offering her house for the last four weeks, and I felt it was only fair to invite her over to my house. I lit a white candle on the kitchen counter.

Today, I sat in my kitchen and read old entries in my diary until I heard the doorbell ring at 6:03 PM. Heavy thoughts and memories started quietly piling up in my head as my full attention was focused on the pages, so the ring was a sudden but relieving release from my past trauma. I cheerfully walked up to the front door and opened it, and in front stood a smiling Sophie.

“Hello, stranger,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

“I heard about a BIG pizza party. I was wondering if this was the right place.”

“You wondered right! Come on in and enjoy the bustling atmosphere.”

Sophie walked into the kitchen and immediately noticed what was on the counter.

“Hm. We think exactly alike, Nicole.” She walked up to the candle. She picked up and looked at the label. “‘Midnight Jasmine.’ Huh, I have an older friend called Jasmine. You should meet her sometime.”

“Oh, yeah? That sounds cool. Maybe I should get to know her.”

“She’s a few months from turning 18 and I’m not even 17 yet, but she’s still cool. She’s actually pretty popular online, and she’s got an e-girl aesthetic to her, if you know what that is. I don’t know what to think of it.” She put down the candle.

“Huh, alright. She sounds… interesting… Let’s think about all of us meeting up.”

“Totally, yeah.” Sophie looked around the room. “Anyways, where were we? Was it about pizzas?”

“Yes, you’re right. Want me to go ahead and start on those, Sophie?”

She mumbled and then rubbed her hands and licked her lips.

• •  •

After putting on the sauce, cheese, pepperoni, and pineapple on the pizza and letting it cook for 15 minutes, our sloppy but delicious-looking dinner was done. I’m sure that after knowing Sophie and I put pineapple on our pizza, 3.9 billion people would want to tear our guts out, while another 3.9 billion people would praise us like saviors that could do no wrong. I grabbed two ceramic plates with decorated golden edges and put four slices on each of our plates. Appropriate plating for such a high-class meal; homemade pineapple pizza for two teenage girls to share on a summer-y Saturday evening.

Instead of eating at our dinner table like civilized people, I invited Sophie over to my bedroom because I was eager to show it to her. Sophie’s bedroom was so different to mine and hers had changed so much during the pandemic that I wanted to see her reaction to my little nest.

When we got to my doorway, I opened the door for her and she walked in. “Behold, what I like to call my little pandemic isolation chamber.” Sophie looked around in shock. Left, right, up, down.

“Well, for starters,” she said. “It’s nothing like my room, but we already talked about that… also, this place feels very you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She pointed towards the two walls with dozens of pieces of my art. “All that was made by you. The old you and the new you.”

“That’s right. I’m still putting up new stuff to this day.”

“Then, there’s the dark walls. I think that fits your personality.” Right after that, thoughts started flooding in about how cold I acted to people, despite my last name literally being “light.” I like to think of myself as an optimistic, peaceful person on the inside, but on the outside, I’m really not. Or maybe I was a bright, young, innocent person then, and now I’m cold and reserved. Or maybe I was always cold? Maybe I haven’t changed? Maybe Nicole 2 never existed? It’s complicated. I should probably write about it all some day.

I focused back on Sophie and the conversation. “Oh- yeah. It kinda does.”

“Kinda? I think it’s perfect for you. You’re one of the quietest people I know.”

“Hm. Yeah. Maybe the darkness is right for me.” Sophie kept looking around the room and then walked over to my desk.

“Here we go! The big candle collection. This is huge, how many do you have?”

“Oh, I don’t even know anymore. Like 21? 22?”

Sophie took a few seconds to count them all. “Yeah, 22.” 2 is a funny number to me. I really like how it makes me contemplate whether my 16 years of life have led to anything. Whether my personality has shifted at all over time. Whether Nicole 2 is real.
“22, wow,” Sophie continued. “I must say, with all your candles, your diary, your pencils, and your colored pencils all right here, your desk lives up to the hype… it’s funny how different this is to my room. Literally every single aspect here is different to my room. Hell, many of the aspects are opposites.”

“Yet, we’re best friends,” I smiled.

She smiled back. “That’s the brighter Nicole I like to see sometimes.”

I also like this brighter Nicole every once in a while. Maybe I need to bring her out more. Maybe that’s who Nicole 2 is. I took a bite from my homemade pizza. Yeah. I think that’s her.

August 13, 2020 // Thursday

31. “Positive”

Not much has changed over the last few weeks. I’ve met up with Sophie consistently every week since July 13th. I’ve done some poetry, writing, drawing, internet browsing, and plenty of what I sometimes call “reflection time with candles” or “Candle Time.” It’s pretty self-explanatory. I haven’t been all that bored knowing that every week, I’d get to go out. I would prefer to be a bit more social right now, which is something I’ve barely said or thought throughout my entire life, but my parents’ current restrictions on me have kept my weekly schedule to where it is.

When I met up with Sophie on Saturday, I chose not to wear a mask because her and I felt comfortable without them. She never wore a mask when I was with her, and I only wore one cloth mask which probably didn’t do much to protect either of us. We were that way for a month, so why would anything go wrong?

However, despite the lack of significant change, one major, major part of my life has arisen. One month to the day of the first time I saw Sophie during the pandemic, I woke up tired, shivering, and with a cough. I stayed in my room even more than I already did. I also received a long, troubling text from Sophie this morning. My parents were not pleased.

August 15, 2020 // Saturday

32. “The Plan”

There was a firm knock on my door this morning. I was asleep until the knock scared me wide awake.

“Nicole. Come to the kitchen table.” It was my dad.

When I walked out and into the dining room in my pajamas and with a mask on, both my parents were sitting down waiting for me. I didn’t sit down.

“You won’t need your mask,” said Mom. “It’s too late.”

I was still too sleepy to understand what she meant, but when Dad turned over and covered his arm with a cough, it hit me. I kept my mask on anyway.

“Why do you think it was me?” I asked. “I’ve kept my distance from you two over the last two days. And I’ve been wearing my mask too.”

“You woke up on Thursday feeling sick,” Mom said. “We were fine until last night.”

“But then why didn’t you feel bad until just yesterday? Sophie and I met up a whole week ago now. If I got it from her and then I gave it to you, all of this happening only on Saturday, why are you feeling symptoms seven days later and not five, like me?”

“Maybe because we’re older and a bit larger than you, so it takes longer,” Mom replied. “And if it’s not that, then maybe we just got infected by you on Monday, while you were infected but showed no symptoms.”

“Hm, you might be right about that second part,” I responded.

My dad spoke up. “Nicole… Did you or did you not follow our rules about meeting up with Sophie and the precautions you promised you would take?”

“Well, yeah. I only met up with her once per week, and I always wore a mask around her.” My face turned slightly redder. Everything I said was technically true with the exception of Saturday with my decision.

“Were there times where you didn’t wear a mask when you were around her? Oh, and what about the hand sanitizer? I never saw that bottle leave its spot.”

Shit. I never did take or use hand sanitizer. My face flushed a little more, and I froze for a second.

“Well... I washed my hands… Pretty often. When I was with her. Oh- and about the mask, I always wore it unless we were eating. Like when Sophie and I were having pizza on Saturday.” My face was still red, but I felt like my mask I was wearing was helping out in hiding it. My dad was quiet for a good few seconds. Then, he stared at my eyes.

“You’re lying, aren’t you, Nicole.”

My face turned fully red. “No, no, no. I always wore my mask, I promise.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Then why did you get sick? Why did we get sick?”

“...I guess it was when we were eating pizza…?”

“You think ten minutes without a mask would end up having you and your entire family sick? No. I think you went more than a few minutes without it.”

My mom cut in. “Nicole, did you wear a mask on Saturday? Yes or no? Just tell us the truth.”

I took a breath. “On Saturday, no. But only on Saturday.”

My dad cut back in. “So you did break our rules?”

I took another breath. “Yes…”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I broke the rules.”

My parents looked at each other.

My dad spoke again: “Well, you’re not going out for a while, that’s for sure. How long? I don’t know yet, but rest assured, you’re gonna have a lot of time at home for the rest of the month and probably the next one too.”

He paused. “We warned you about this happening. You’d better pray to God nothing bad happens to any of us.”

I nodded. I really, really did not want anything to happen. I just spent four months in isolation before this one short month of weekly friend visits. All I could do now was hope.

August 24, 2020 // Monday

33. “Hazy Days”

Time has been dragging on and on for a hell of a long time. A whole 11 days after I tested positive and 16 after I saw Sophie, I still had symptoms of mild coughing, sleepiness, occasional chills, and plenty of brain fog. I’ve spent very little time drawing, writing, or doing anything productive for the last two weeks. My creativity has been completely dry, and I think Covid is to blame. I even tried writing a poem about having the virus but I couldn’t think of anything. My computer and the internet make up just about my entire daily life at this point. YouTube, Instagram, the usual. It’s sad.

I’d like to think I’m feeling better now than I was during my first few days with symptoms, but that’s barely the case. While my parents seem to have each fought off the virus pretty well, with coughing and tiredness being the main effects, I seem to be doing worse and for longer, despite being far younger than my parents. Maybe I got a lot of Covid particles from Sophie while my parents got less from me, which gave their immune systems a better chance to fight against the virus and keep it from reproducing.

I was doing some research on Covid, and I might have something called Long Covid where symptoms last weeks or months after getting infected. The information’s pretty limited right now since the pandemic’s still only been going on for a few months, but what the internet is saying seems to fit my situation.

• •  •

With two weeks until I return to school, I would normally be anxiously dreading the return of school, but in this backward year, I’m awaiting something to fulfill my day-to-day life. The two opposite sides of isolation have been crystal clear to my soul. Subscribing to the Church of Solitude grants safety in exchange for growth. Comfort in exchange for emotional strength. Close social circles in exchange for wider recognition. Loneliness is simply not as great as I always thought it was. After everything I’ve been through in the last half year, I don’t feel like the same person I was before. Now, with this knowledge and with solitude, my growing pains are all I have.

Is it time for me to open up? Is it time to spread my wings and take a leap of faith? Do I give into the norm of being social and going to parties and whatnot? Maybe, but it’s not quite possible during a lockdown, is it?

September 2, 2020 // Wednesday

34. “Health of the Mind”

My schedule for the semester came in, and something was clearly different. Before this point, there were always seven classes and seven blocks. Now, there were seven classes and eight blocks. The eighth was called the “Mental Health Break.”

I was happily surprised by the change, but after a few seconds, I thought: “why did the school do this? What pushed them into this?” There was no way the administrators were having mental health issues. What did they do all day? Did they sit on their computers all day completing assignments? Did they sit all day grading assignments? No.

I thought a bit more, and I figured it was the teachers who coerced the admin to change the schedule. Why? I thought of three possible reasons.

Firstly, the teachers themselves were struggling to keep up with teaching soulless Zoom classes every morning, as well as grading dozens of students’ assignments every afternoon, as well as being with and supporting their families at any chance.

Secondly, the students were contacting the teachers about anything from unfairly short deadlines, too much work or homework, not enough sleep/rest, too much screen time, a lack of day-to-day happiness, a lack of true learning, et cetera, et cetera.

Thirdly, the teachers may have noticed either the careless and depressed attitudes of their students in class, their lack of motivation or effort, or possibly falling grades after the start of the pandemic. Or maybe it’s everything. All of the above. Maybe even more I haven’t thought of just yet. Whatever it was, it’s clear that people needed a mental health break badly.

September 7, 2020 // Monday

35. “School 2, 2”

The first day of a very strange school year. For the first time, I was meeting new teachers by seeing their faces through terrible 480p webcams and hearing them through barely usable headphones, rather than everything that physical human connection offers. My Phys Ed teacher’s setup was so awful that I was struggling to keep a straight face the entire time. My headphones blared whenever he spoke or made a single sound. When he dropped a hard plastic cup while giving instructions, I completely lost it and forced myself to turn my camera off. Plus, he asked us to call him Coach Zelmore, and his first name is Ignus. It’s fun to call myself grown up and then laugh at stupid crap like this. A part of my younger self lives on to this day.

In the afternoon, I customized my weekly schedule and printed it out for convenience. I’ll paste a copy here because why not.

	Monday	Tuesday	Wednesday	Thursday	Friday
8:30-9:40	8:30-05 P1 9:05-40 P2	P1 English	P5 Socials	P1 English	P5 Socials
9:45-10:55	9:45-20 P3 10:20-55 P4	P2 Phys Ed	P6 Math	P2 Phys Ed	P6 Math
11:20-12:30	11:20-55 P5 11:55-30 P6	P3 M. Health	P7 Creat. Writ.	P3 M. Health	P7 Creat. Writ.
12:35-1:45	12:35-10 P7 1:10-45 P8	P4 Science	P8 Art	P4 Science	P8 Art

 

Anyways, about this morning, my English class dragged on and lost me at times, but I felt the teacher connect with me for some reason. Ms. Anjulie’s speech was meticulous and flowed smoothly. Behind her was a very full bookshelf. Never did she shout, never was she frustrated. Everything an English teacher should be like. Maybe it was just my stereotype of them.

Phys Ed was, again, hilarious. Science and Social Studies were good and I saw a nugget of potential in each of them, but they didn’t seem like anything too special as of now aside from the fact that I had Sophie in both of them.

Despite it being the first class of the entire year, Math already seemed like a challenging class with us students already being thrown into the first unit. Even more than Math in 8th and 9th Grade, which I felt were both tough as nails. But with a teacher called Chadwick Brockman who looks like how he sounds, it shouldn’t be too surprising.

Creative Writing was very nice, and I felt it really did boost my creativity when the teacher, Ms. Belfield gave us 10 minutes to interpret and write about one of three prompts. There were only six students in the class, including me, so sharing our prompts felt pretty personal. Especially since Ms. Belfield enforced her rule about our cameras always being on.

Last but not least, Art with Ms. Grace was pretty great! There was a pretty comfortable atmosphere thanks to the teacher’s use of background music and the relatively small classroom size of nine students.

Today was mostly pretty great, and it was good to be back to school. Boredom is only good for so long. Now, I’ll just have to keep up with these classes for hundreds upon hundreds of hours while my brain fog and lack of focus continues. With the expectations of my parents at an all-time high and with further months of isolation as the pandemic marches onward, the weight on my shoulders will only grow heavier.

September 16, 2020 // Wednesday

36. “Charlotte”

By the fourth Creative Writing class of the semester, Ms. Belfield was already putting us students together as partners. She said it was to get us to know each other better, but I guess half a year into the pandemic, schools haven’t realized that breakout rooms aren’t enjoyable nor effective for students. Then, she said: “I will put each of you with a randomized partner.” That was one thing, but it was even worse that the class was composed of 10th graders and 9th graders. Three students from each generation. No one was gonna do any work in class or even talk to each other. That is, until she announced: “You will have only the remaining 60 minutes of class to complete this assignment with your partner. I will be popping into your breakout rooms to check your progress.” Oh? A teacher pushing her students to actually work? Not a common sight to see online.

She threw us into the rooms, and I got partnered with this 9th Grader called Charlotte Bridgeman. What was distinct about her was that she always wore orange, and if I’m being completely and brutally honest, she was a little tubby. After a few seconds of sitting and doing nothing, I asked: “Hey, what were we supposed to do again? I wasn’t listening.”

“Hi! We’re supposed to read the short story Miss Belfield put in the chat and fill out a document about the story’s theme, characters, et cetera.”

“Oh, alright. Thanks, Charlotte.”

“You’re welcome, Nicole! Wonderful to meet you!”

Her chipper voice was infectious. “Same to you!” From there, we each started reading on our own. By the time I was about halfway through the story, Charlotte asked me if I was done. “No, not yet.” Then when I was like 85% done, she asked me again. “Almost there.” When I was on the last paragraph, she asked me again. “I’m really close to finishing. Just give me a minute.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay.” I noticed her get a bit flustered, turn away from her computer, and hide her face with her hand. She almost looked like she wiped a tear away. All I said was “give me a minute.” My tone wasn’t even mad, just a little irritated. “Alright, I’m done,” I said. “Should I make the document and share it with you or…?”

“I made it already. What’s your email?”

“[email protected].” A minute later, I received the document. “Okay,” said Charlotte. “So what I think we should do, in my opinion, is that I fill out the Character and Plot sections and you do the Setting and Themes sections but ONLY if you want. I can do three or even four of the sections if you want to relax.”

“Oh, but that wouldn’t be fair though. Why should you have to do more work than me?”

“Sorry, I just thought that maybe you’d wanted that…”

“But Charlotte, why would you choose to do more work?”

“I don’t know. To make you happier, I guess.” Her voice cracked a little bit.

“That’s very kind of you, but I don't want to put the weight on you. I’ll do my half, and you can do yours.”

“Are you sure you’re good with that?”

“Yeah, totally. You don't have to do other people’s work for them. That’s their job, not yours.”

“But they like it when I help them. It makes their days easier.”

“I’m not saying it’s bad to help people, but, like, they’re taking advantage of your kindness. For their gain and your loss.”

“Do you mean it, Nicole?” I nodded. I vaguely saw a tear slide down her face.

“Thank you,” she sobbed.

“Hey, it’s okay. You can be my friend.” Right after that, Ms. Belfield popped into our breakout room.

“Hey guys,” she said. “How’s it going with the document so far-? Oh. Is everything okay? Charlotte?”

“Yeah,” Charlotte whimpered. “And Nicole… Thank you. Thank you for being my friend. It means… so much… to me.”

“Absolutely, Charlotte. I’m happy to have you as a friend too. I’ve been looking for a new one, as a matter of fact.”

“That’s great! Thank you, friend. I would give you a hug right now.”

“Me too.”

Ms. Belfield tilted her head, put her hands on her chest, and gave us a warm smile before leaving the breakout room to ourselves again. Charlotte asked me for my number, and she teared up a little more after I did it. We worked on the assignment efficiently and finished it with five minutes to spare, and she said “thank you” three different times after I told her I finished my part.

That’s Charlotte for you. She’s a different one.

September 21, 2020 // Monday

37. “Broken Lantern”

I had just about one of the toughest school days in a good while. The fogginess I’ve felt from Covid has been around since I started feeling symptoms in mid-August, yet it somehow took until today to reach a new height of intensity. What I suspect could have caused this was that something was off with my electric heater yesterday where it would keep turning on and off and on and off. Sometimes it would be dozens of minutes between when it switched itself, and other times it would be a fraction of a second where it blinked off and on or vice versa. My mom and dad had no real idea of how to fix it, and since it was an old heater, they promised me they’d get a new one sometime soon.

Anyways, I had trouble sleeping last night when my room would go from humming loudly to deathly quiet at random, and when my room would change temperatures dramatically over a relatively short period of time. At some point last night, my heater turned off for long enough that my room got freezing cold, which made me sick despite the three blankets on top of me. My nose has been both extremely stuffy and runny, my eyes feel tired as all hell, and my body feels stiff as a statue. My theory is that my cold also made my Covid worse, and having slept badly made it even worse.

So, after all that misery, I told myself that I’d be healthy enough to sit down, watch my teachers on Zoom do their thing, and try my best to fill out the assignments. This morning, I was able to sit down, I was able to watch my teachers when I wasn’t struggling to stay awake or process what my teachers were saying, but completing- or even getting meaningful progress on any of my assignments was a complete failure on every level. My brain fog has reached a point that I cannot bother to focus on anything requiring any sort of mild mental challenge. Everything is boring to me. Trying anything feels like being lost and confused in the middle of a field beneath a dark, lightless sky and only having a broken, barely-operating lantern to guide me anywhere useful. Without being able to think, I’m sure my homework and overdue work piles are going to soar to the moon very soon. It sucks. This sucks. Everything sucks.

September 25, 2020 // Friday

38. “Family Time”

This morning started off normal at the round family table. We were quiet and entertained by the infinite content of our phones. But today, my dad decided to change something from this point onward.

“Hey, Holly and Nicole,” he said.

He had our attention.

He continued: “Lately I’ve been thinking about Covid, lockdown, and devices… and I think we could all use a little less screen time and a little more family time, if you know what I mean. Wouldn’t you say?”

Normally, I would have been against any new sort of “policy” that my dad put in place for our family, but here, he had all the reasons. The whole world could use some downtime. It often felt like the constant light was frying our eyes and brains dry, and simultaneously keeping us from wanting to do anything but scroll or stare.

“Yeah, I agree,” I spoke. “I feel the same way too sometimes.”

“That’s great. Holly?”

After two seconds she apologized: “Oh.” She put her phone down. “Yeah- yes. We should have some more quality family time.”

“Alright then. Let’s all put our phones in the key basket over there.”

We all grabbed our phones, stood up, walked over to the little wooden basket next to the front door and dropped off our devices.

“Good,” he said. “So, what’s been going on in your lives lately?”

September 27, 2020 // Sunday

39. “Maybe Someday”

I woke up to the sound of four notifications on my phone. I picked it up, saw 07:38 on my screen and looked down to find that the messages were from Charlotte, who I had never previously texted but who I did give my phone number to the other day. I opened up WhatsApp.

“Hey Nicole”

“It’s Charlotte from Creative Writing”

“I’m turning 15 tomorrow, Sep 28th”

“I was wondering if you’d like to meet up at my house?”

I texted back.

“I’d really like to, but my parents won’t let me go out and see other people just yet. But maybe soon I’ll be available. When would this be?”

 

She texted back in seconds.

“Oh, okay.”

“I was thinking today, but I guess not anymore.”

 

“Would it be like a party?”

 

“I don’t know. I thought we could hang out or if you wanted to, but it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

 

“Why not have a party?”

“It’s your birthday after all”

 

“I don’t know who I would invite.”

 

“Wdym?”

 

“Like I don’t have too many friends, so I don’t have many options to invite”

 

I got to thinking. I couldn’t let poor Charlotte have a plain hangout for her birthday, or worse yet, nothing.

“Hey Charlotte I’ve got an idea”

“My best friend Sophie’s birthday is on October 19th so maybe we could loop your birthday in with hers and have a bigger party!”

 

“You would really do that for me?”

 

“Totally yeah”

“I just have to fully recover from covid and my parents would prob let it happen”

 

Charlotte took three minutes to respond after that.

“Thank you Nicole, that sounds super fun!”

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

 

“Np”

“Happy to give you a party you deserve”

“Oh and happy early birthday too :)”

 

“Thanks Nicole!!! <3”

That went well. Charlotte was her usual Charlotte self, but I’m glad I’m helping her out. I felt bad that she’s so lonely- and I thought I was the quietest person there was. I held back on telling the idea to Sophie just yet because she had no idea who Charlotte was yet, and because I still didn’t quite know when I’d be allowed out again.

There’s a lot to look forward to in the future, but right now, there’s not much. School’s already been getting a bit boring and tedious, even though just a month earlier I was anxiously awaiting the return of classes. With the declining quality of school paired with my neverending sickness, the rollercoaster seems to be crawling towards a big drop soon. All I could do was hold onto the handlebar and hope for the best.

September 29, 2020 // Tuesday

40. “United in Contempt”

This morning, during Social Studies, my teacher randomly and emotionally announced to our class that the school was actively trying to cut down on busy work. While listening, all it seemed to me was that the students had been privately messaging her or other teachers that students weren’t learning and they weren’t buying into the load of assignments the teachers were piling onto everybody each day. I hadn’t necessarily noticed that our teachers were feeding us useless work to fill our days with something, but that’s when the dots started connecting. I slowly tuned in to the reserved anger of my peers.

Siding with these people was never my thing. In all my years at this school, all this time surrounded by these people, I never liked them. They just weren’t for me. The feeling was mutual. Typically, they ignored me, but sometimes, like with those bullies all those months ago, they took action against me. But today, for once, they were right. Screw busywork. Screw homework. Screw boring Zoom meetings. Bring back learning. It felt good to be mad for once. Real good. We didn’t need stress on top of living under a pandemic that destroyed social lives and freedom. We were united. United in contempt.

October 1, 2020 // Thursday

41. “Six Feet Under”

I woke up with my soul in a lower spot in my body today. As I began my pandemic morning routine for the millionth time, I slogged over to the pantry to snatch the peanut butter and then to the pantry to get my bread. As I was toasting my breakfast, I couldn’t help but notice how terrible and drab the outdoors looked through the window. A blanket of plain, gray clouds covered any light that could possibly brighten up my day to something other than the miserable cycle of sitting, staring, and working. On top of that, it had been raining non-stop since last night.

After the toaster handle flung up, I noticed the smoky scent coming from the bread. One muscle at a time, I reached for the toaster, and then, I suddenly pulled out one slice until I quickly felt the heat burn onto my fingertips as the toast slipped out of my hand, bounced on the plate, landed on its side on the floor, and sent dozens of black crumbs spread out on the ground. Hoping to start my breakfast over again, I looked over at the bread bag and noticed there were only three slices left that I had to spread out until Mom bought groceries again on Sunday. “Well, damn. I guess I’ll settle for one burnt slice of toast for breakfast,” I said to myself. I spread on a thick layer of peanut butter on the non-dropped toast and I was done with that.

I took out a glass and popped open the fridge to get myself a nice glass of milk. I reached for the carton from the top and swirled it around only to realize it was probably 80% empty. “Fantastic,” I mumbled again. I went ahead and poured about an eighth of the glass with milk. Breakfast is served! I took my plate and cup and sat down alone on the kitchen table. Good to see my parents were out working early. Everyone could use a bit more money during the pandemic, I guess. It was nice when they told me about it yesterday. “I was gonna have the house to myself,” and yeah, I sure was alone here.

After a few solemn minutes of nibbling and sipping my five-star meal, I gave in to the temptation of checking my phone and scrolling through Instagram to feel something. While my eyes stared blankly as my thumb swiped through each meme, image, video, ad, and news piece, my already-bleak mood crumbled into a hollow emptiness. I was deflated. I put my phone down and felt another wave of tiredness wash over me. I picked up my phone seconds later to check the time, and it was already 8:25 and I was still a mess. I took one last drop of milk and took one big bite of my burnt toast before throwing it away and putting my dishes in the sink.

Next, I rushed into the bathroom and tried brushing my hair to no avail. When I looked into the mirror, I saw circles below my once bright eyes. Frizzy-haired and dressed in an old black t-shirt and gray wool sweatpants, I was in front of my computer waiting for my teacher to start the meeting. 8:32 and it hadn’t started yet. 8:33. 8:34. 8:35. I took my phone and scrolled past dozens of images in two minutes before setting my phone down. My eyes burned from the flashes and brightness. I turned to my computer and continued to stare and wait. This was purgatory. Digital purgatory.

Finally, Zoom told me I was in the waiting room, and seconds later, I saw my Science teacher and all my classmates' names on black boxes. The teacher took three seconds to apologize and move on to the instructions for today. The riveting experience of online learning. What a fulfilling delight to have every goddamn day of my miserable life.

Later, I turned on my camera in hopes of bringing some sort of morale to myself and the class. After a minute of nothing changing and only realizing just how awful and tired I looked, I shut off my webcam. Tears swelled up in my eyes. Control was gone. Sixteen and a half years of evolution has led me to this point. This was my entire existence. The optimism and innocence of the past were dead and buried six feet under. I was exhausted. Aloof. Desensitized. Alone. Only four weeks into this semester and my spirit had been squeezed to its last drop. I curled up into a ball as my face heated up. Two streams formed from my eyes, which slid down my nose, down my cheeks, onto my chin, and fell onto my shirt. This wasn’t the isolation I once loved. Not even close.

• •  •

6:26 in the afternoon. The day was cloudy and dark, and the sun was on its way out which made it worse. I had been working since the morning and I missed when both Mom and Dad came back for lunch. I had not seen or talked to a single physical soul in the 11 hours I had been awake for. I tried to forget about it by finishing an assignment I was working on so I could finally get a good break, but it wasn’t working. That’s when bright thoughts started flooding my brain. Overly bright ones. Really great memories from before the pandemic.

Friday, February 1, 2019. It was a relatively warm morning for that time of year, but it was still cool. I was on the school bus with only the driver and a couple of kids spread out around. I had my cheap, teal-colored plastic JBL headphones on, and I was playing a brand new EP from this artist I liked called deadmau5. The EP cover was mostly red with some dark blue, and it was perfect considering the new month of love and passion. Even better was looking out the window the entire time. Watching the partly cloudy, dark blue sky light up into one of fiery red, pink, and orange as the sun brought with it a shiny new day. It was glorious. A lovely view of nature’s organic beauty while enjoying some energetic new tunes. I was 14. Young. Happy. Energetic. I was alive.

I became conscious again. Thursday, October 1, 2020. It was a dark, bleak, lonely day. I was at home with only myself. I had my AirPods in, and I was listening to teachers give instructions, and in terms of music, I was listening to a lot of nothing. When I looked outside, there was nothing but clouds. When I looked at my computer, there was either a teacher and a bunch of black squares with names on them, or there was a long, bland, repetitive assignment I had to complete, or else a digital number on a system would go down. (Why did I have to do it? Because the school said so). Even worse was realizing I was trapped here in this house and in this position doing this activity. Watching the lifeless outdoors and the nauseating computer screen not changing throughout the course of the day was depressing and demotivating. It was horrible. None of nature’s beauty or mankind’s marvel was present here. I was 16. Aging. Gloomy. Broken. I existed without anything on top.

• •  •

Foolishly, I thought my mood would clear up once I had dinner with my parents. My first human interaction in about 24 hours. Much of the discussion at the dinner table was either nothing at all, talking about our long days at or away from home, or about me having the whole house to myself. Although I was trying my best not to be a miserable prick in front of my family, I was still lowly and I carried an attitude with me.

After I wrapped up dinner, I firmly decided that I could not take one more minute of monotonous and mind-numbing assignments. No more of that shit. As I turned the doorknob and walked into the void that was my room, I was reminded of the hundreds- if not thousands of hours I had spent here over the course of seven months writing words in boxes inside digital documents assigned by my teachers almost every day. The empty months I had thrown in the gutter in order to get some numbers on a record to go up incrementally. The slow burn that tarnished my life from one of my highest points ever; this April. The deadbeat, repetitive daily and weekly routine that killed my love for isolation. My love may come back at some point, but for now, like my optimism, it was dead and buried six feet under.

When I went inside my room, I was tired but I wasn’t sleepy, so I stayed up late sitting on the edge of my bed with the lights dimmed down. Thoughts of self-loathing and contempt continued to cloud up and spin around in my head with nowhere to go. At a quarter to one in the morning, I decided to call it a night. The thoughts kept circulating in my brain and reached a point where I completely broke mentally and emotionally. My eyes got heavy and cried out a slow but never-ending stream of tears. This was my life now. Lying in my bed in my lightless room, just a few hours before I had to get up to watch teachers on a screen talk and talk while I typed keys on a keyboard in a specific order that proved satisfactory to my instructors. What a miserable time to be alive.

October 8, 2020 // Thursday

42. “Chiaroscuro”

This last week, I was able to keep up a relatively stable but dark mood. I certainly wasn’t happy- far from it, but at least I wasn’t crying during every waking moment. A thin, light blanket of depression was placed over me, and I’ve been wrapped in it since then. Fortunately for me, my Covid symptoms were mostly gone aside from some cloudiness in my thoughts. I was certainly recovering from my sickness, and in some respects, I was already done.

So, emotionally, I’ve kept myself from breaking over the last week. However, as I feared would happen, I didn’t wake up feeling too great today. There wasn’t really a reason. I wasn’t full of spite. I wasn’t gloomy. But I felt off. I felt like something was coming, and it wasn’t nice. I wore the same old black t-shirt from last Thursday, and part of me questioned whether that was somehow the cause, but I brushed it off. Today was a fairly standard school day; below average. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then, well after sunset, at 10:10 PM, I got a text. It was Sophie.

S: “I need to tell this to someone. I can’t think of anyone except you.”

N: “What’s up?”

“I’ve just had a really awful time lately. For about three weeks now. I’ve just been completely depressed. My emotions have been shattered by loneliness. Help.”

She needed me. Badly. This was not normal for Sophie in the slightest. I stared at my phone screen for a minute.

N: “Hm. Can you come?”

S: “?”

“Can you come over to my house? Also dw about my Covid, I feel good now”

“My parents still probably wouldn’t let me though.”

“Don’t tell them. I won’t tell mine”

“Ok”

“I’ll meet you halfway there. Same highway as always. Be careful out there. Oh and wear winter clothes. It’s like five degrees outside”

Above my pajamas, I put on two bulky gray hoodies, an extra pair of light gray sweatpants, a black pair of mittens, a blue-and-yellow beanie, another pair of black socks, and comfy blue sneakers. I was puffed up and ready. I put my phone and keys in my pocket, turned off the lights, and snuck out of the house as quietly as I could.

As I walked away from the house, I looked behind me and continued forward. Once I hooked the right from my pathway, it got to me how cold it was. My bones felt like those of a bird; it felt like they would snap like a twig with any amount of force. My nose was already getting stuffy, and my hands still felt frozen and brittle beneath my gloves. But Sophie was depending on me, and really, I needed her too. The glacial autumn wind was harsh, the golden leaves were rustling, the decades-old street lights were dim, the vast sky was black, and the atmosphere was tense. I didn’t care about any of it. This needed to happen. I trudged along the highway like a lost Antarctic researcher stepping through inches of snow and facing polar drafts of air, hoping to find a sign of familiarity and comfort. I slipped my arms out of my jackets and wrapped my arms around my torso so that my frail hands could feel my warmth.

Close to fifteen grueling minutes after leaving my house, I vaguely saw a figure in the far distance growing closer. It could have been absolutely anyone, but I know who it was. I started jogging over, and it sped up as well. Like a train, I got faster and faster. Every step was a little bit quicker than the last. I got closer. Closer. Then, I stood still and spread my arms wide open, waiting for them to come to me. The person kept running until they slowed down, stopped, and wrapped their arms around me. We got as close together as we could. I could feel the isolation in her heart leave her body like a balloon tied to nothing. I softly rubbed my mittens on her back. Sophie was no longer alone. I was no longer alone. The cold vanished.

Half a minute later, I unlocked my embrace, and she did the same. “Let’s go, Sophie.” I turned around and we started walking back to my home. After a minute of pleasantly walking together, I slowly built up speed. Then, Sophie mimicked me and then we were side-by-side. We were walking, then speed-walking, then jogging, sprinting, and running. I still felt the cold breeze drying up my face, but with Sophie, all I felt on the inside was warmth.

Seven minutes later, we started to slow down. My house came into view little by little. Then, we arrived, but we didn’t go inside. We walked to the back of the house and continued into the woods with our phone flashlights on. The dividing line between my lovely, open backyard and the mysterious, claustrophobia-inducing forest was very clear. Sophie and I were escaping, that’s what we were doing here. We remained side-by-side as we stepped past the line. It was unnerving, but we marched along.

Once we were just about comfortable enough, we were speeding up and running again. We locked hands. I took charge while Sophie barely held on from behind. We bolted between dozens of trees and narrowly missed all of them. We were going like a missile. I’m sure Sophie was slightly concerned about all this, but she probably knew this was leading to somewhere special. While we ran, any animals that were in our way got spooked by our frantically waving phone lights and the ceaseless and accelerating crunching of leaves.

After more, and more, and more running, we stopped at a flat, open area. A dozen meters in diameter with not a single tree within it. It was just like I remembered it, except now it was dark and all the trees around us were red, orange, golden, yellow, and even purple. I stepped over to the middle of the circle, and then I sat right down. I looked up at Sophie, who came over and sat down right next to me a few seconds later. After we both got comfortable, I turned off my flashlight, and she did the same. It was pitch black and deathly quiet. Even the crickets hushed. A haunting feeling loomed over me, but I did not fear it. The unknown was all around me, but I did not fear it. Because after all, my best friend was right next to me, even if I couldn’t see her at all. We sat still. The only thing that was sure about anything happening around us was that we were together.

After a minute of pure silence, I whispered out loud: “Even when the darkness is everything, you are not alone. I am here. I am here now, later, and forever. I will never, under any circumstances, leave you to slip into the lightless abyss. Even when the glowing divinity of the moon crumbles into dust, even when the cycle of life and death ultimately ends on this vibrant planet, and even when the sun’s 10-billion-year-long reign of warmth ends with a cataclysmic explosion, I will be sitting beside you like I am at this very moment. Remember that. Remember this moment.”

Silence. Then, 10 seconds later, Sophie spoke: “If there was a mirror that could reflect words, I would make sure everything you said was sent back to you exactly how it was sent.” She fumbled around and managed to put her hand on my shoulder. I copied her. Our heads came together. Side-by-side.

When we first settled down, the world was pitch black and as quiet as space. It was impressive how empty and vast everything felt. Then, we looked up at the clear sky. With no light down here and with the radiance of billions of stars above us, Sophie and I felt our pain and trauma fade into the past as the gleam of the universe contrasted with our darkness. Now, the light was on our side. That was Chiaroscuro.

• •  •

After 20 minutes sitting still and watching the stars, we decided that we had spent enough time there. I held onto Sophie’s hand, I stood up, and she followed. We turned our flashlights on, and we made our way out at a normal pace. Holding our hands felt special after all that. It was like we were carrying a part of each other and letting our souls merge and coexist as one. The walk out of the forest went perfectly and smoothly.

When we got onto the sidewalk next to the highway to get to Sophie’s house, she said: “That was really something else. I felt… kind of alive, in a way. I’ve never done something so… connected with nature. Or connected with another person. This helped. Thank you again.”

“I wish there was a mirror that could reflect words,” I said. Sophie laughed and smiled.

October 11, 2020 // Sunday

43. “Rich Colors”

My eyelids slowly peered back to find the sun’s rays lighting up my room like never before. It turns out I had accidentally left the blinds open yesterday, but part of me thought that my brain chose to leave them open to let the light into my life this morning. It was 7:15; about two to three hours earlier than usual. Surprisingly energized, I got up from bed and stood tall. I kept on my thick pajamas. After cheerfully going out to the kitchen and preparing a better-than-average Nutella waffle breakfast with pomegranate tea, I left my phone on the counter, walked out the front door, and peacefully strolled into the forest behind my backyard. No running, no flashlights, none of that.

Today was a fresh day. It was idyllic. Picturesque. There was a sapphire sky and a handful of thin white clouds scattered across the vast blue canvas. The sun was above the horizon but still low in the sky, and the sun was inching up further as every serene moment passed. Out here, I was alone, but I didn’t feel lonely. I wasn’t dashing into the forest in the complete dark, holding hands with my best friend to escape from the world and revel in our togetherness. We were saved now.

Once I got to the treeless circle, I walked over to the edge, where a big rock sat. I settled down against it. After watching the clouds slowly travel and the trees softly sway, I realized just how great I felt. Sitting here refreshed. Appreciated. Loved. The scenery was stunningly gorgeous. The trees were brighter than ever. Rich with the boldest warm-colored leaves I had seen in a young lifetime. They’ve changed. For the better. Now, it was my time.

While Thursday lifted the spirits of Sophie and me considerably and while we’ll probably never forget that night, the journey wasn’t over yet. The pandemic wasn’t over and school still consisted entirely of studying on a screen all day. Even when I do return to a physical school, I’ll still have to adjust to all that after more than half of a year of this. As of now, I still only have one good friend, and Charlotte isn’t quite there yet. After Sophie and I have further cemented our relationship, I think it’s about time I lift Charlotte up too as soon as I can.

October 14, 2020 // Wednesday

44. “Open Door”

On Friday, I told my parents about how I no longer felt any symptoms for Covid, and I begged them to let me have the party with Sophie, Charlotte, and some of Sophie’s friends. They told me they’d consider it, and today, at lunch, they said yes as long as I always wore a mask. I wasn’t gonna mess up this time.

Right after eating, I texted Sophie about what she was planning on doing for her birthday.

S: “I’m really happy your parents are letting you go out again!”

“I was planning on doing a party at my house on Saturday the 24th”

N: “Would you mind if I invited a special guest?”

“Sure, who is it?”

“A new friend of mine, Charlotte. She’s in 9th Grade”

“Her birthday was at the end of September and she really wanted to get together with people”

“She seems really lonely :/”

“Aww yeah I’ll happily invite her”

“Let her know about the 24th”

“Alright sweet”

“Thanks!”

“Np!! I’m happy to help her out!”

I got to texting Charlotte and laid out the whole plan for her. She responded in seconds and started cry typing like “Thank youuu ;-;-;-;-;” and “I appreciate you so muchhh.” This was gonna be fun. I’ve got a big grin on my face just thinking about it.

October 24, 2020 // Saturday

45. “Starlike Gleam”

Saturday the 24th. Around 4:30 in the afternoon. It was a great walk over to Sophie’s. She would be there, Charlotte would be there, that girl Jasmine would be there, and a few others would be there too. The day was cloudy yet bright. The atmosphere was perfect for the Halloween season; brown leaves falling and flying, a strong cool breeze, a blanket of gray clouds covering the sky, and a few pumpkins spread across the path alongside the highway.

As I was approaching Sophie’s pathway and putting on my yellow cloth mask, I saw a car pull over into the driveway. The girl in the passenger seat looked at me. She got out of the car, and it was Charlotte.

“Nicole? Nicole!”

“Charlotte!”

She ran into me- like she actually pushed me back a little- and gave me the strongest hug I’ve felt in a long while. She was also a lot shorter than I expected. I was around 5’2” in February, and the last time I checked a couple months ago I was barely 5’5”. Meanwhile, she was more than a head below me.

She said “you’re taller than I thought” and pulled herself away from me.

“Opposite goes to you.”

She smiled up at me. Far on our right, Sophie walked around from the back of the house and walked over to us.

“Hey, happy birthday, Sophie!!” I shouted. Charlotte wished her the same.

“Heyyy!! You’re Charlotte, right?”

“Yup!” She replied.

“Well, come on over! We’ve got a few people here already.”

We all got onto the pathway together, where six pumpkins were lined up on each side. Soon after, we walked around the house and over to the backyard, where four foldable tables were set up with everything ranging from big barrels of fruit punch and sodas to wide bowls of Lay’s ketchup chips, to heavy portable speakers that played low quiet dance music. So far, there were three of Sophie’s friends; one girl from our grade level that I vaguely knew, wearing blue overalls and a black t-shirt, called Anna, then a girl, probably from 11th Grade, who I only recognized from seeing her around on campus, and then another tall 11th Grader with an e-girl aesthetic and with short, silver and purple-dyed hair. Jasmine.

The three friends noticed us coming over, and Sophie stood between us. “Nicole, Charlotte. Anna, Claire, Jasmine.”

Anna came over to me and gave me a quick hug, then she did the same to Charlotte. Claire also hugged us but took her time with each of us. Jasmine just stood where she was and said “hey.” Charlotte walked up to her to give her a hug, and Jasmine backed up and held her hand down in front of Charlotte.

“Woah, hey. Not yet,” Jasmine said.

“What? I just wanted a hug. To, like, build trust between us. Come on, just one, at least.”

“Would you hug a stranger on the sidewalk at night?”

Sophie put her hand up on Jasmine’s shoulder and looked up at her.

Jasmine said: “I don’t have to give her a hug if I don’t want to. Oh, and did we all forget Covid still exists?”

“Good point about Covid- no one said you had to, but at least be nice,” Sophie said. “She just turned… 15, right? A few weeks ago. This is partially her birthday party too.”

“No one even knows who this kid is, and now it’s her party?”

Sophie looked at her with a straight face.

“Fine, God. I’ll give her the damn hug.” Jasmine knelt down and kinda just put her arms around Charlotte awkwardly for a couple of seconds. Jasmine was about a whole foot taller, it was crazy.

She stood back up. “Alright, there. Can we move on?” Jasmine asked.

Everyone stood around for a second and then we all slowly made our way over to the drinks and chips. However, Charlotte stayed behind, and once I noticed her turned around and was obviously crying, I walked over to her.

“Come on, Charlotte. Don’t take that personally. She doesn’t even know you. Some people are just mean sometimes, you know. She probably views you as a little kid even when you’re 15.” She didn’t budge. “Trust me, I’ve noticed people online who were born in 2002 or 2003 and interact with people born in 2004 or 2005 and act as if they were a decade apart in age.”

She stayed quiet and with her back turned. “Just have a good time! If you stay like this the whole party, everyone’s gonna leave with the memory that you were that random girl who cried off in the corner. If you turn around now and get into party mode, that one interaction with Jasmine will be forgotten.”

That didn’t work either. “You know what, no. Maybe don’t go into party mode yet. Just hang around me and we’ll ease our way back into the party. Believe me, I barely know those three more than you do. Sophie may be my best friend, but she’s close to my only friend.”

Charlotte moved her head up a tiny bit. “Come on, Charlotte, what do you say? Let’s get some fruit punch and just relax. We don’t even have to talk to anybody right now. We don’t even have to look at them. We can enjoy the beautiful scenery!”

I looked back at the orange trees and the soothing blanket of clouds. “We can talk about anything we want together! As long as they know you’re not alone, you’re good. You can be with me for now, and then, we merge back with the rest. Besides, more people will be arriving soon, and they’ll have no idea what happened when you first got here.”

She turned around to me. “Are you sure this would work?”

“Of course, yeah. I’m your friend. Let’s go get that drink.” I started walking over to the table with barrels of drinks, over to the side of where everyone was together and talking. Halfway there, I stopped and looked back to find her in the same spot. “Come on.” I held out my right arm in an inviting position. She took a step forward, then another, and began walking. I wrapped my right arm around her right shoulder, and together we walked to the fruit punch barrel.

As I took a disposable Dixie cup from the stack and held down the button on the orange Igloo cooler, I asked Charlotte: “So, what’s your favorite season of the year?”

“I like fall.”

“I thought you would, yeah. What’s your favorite thing about it?”

“Hmm… I mean, I kinda like everything. It has my birthday in it. But if I had to pick one part, I’d say the pretty trees.”

“Absolutely, yeah! It’s a beautiful transition between the big green leaves of summer and the dormant branches of the winter. I’d say the trees are prettiest at this time of year. No doubt about it.” I took one loop of my mask off my ear and took a big sip of my drink, and then I wiped my mouth and put my mask on.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“But- and I might be biased because I was born in April- but the spring is exquisite in my opinion. There’s just something so fresh about coming out from a long, cold, dry winter and feeling the sun’s warmth. And the flowers!!! Oh. My. God. I love them so much, all of them!! Don’t you??”

“Yeah… I do! I love the pink and yellow ones the most!”

“No- shut up. Those are my exact favorites too!!” I was practically almost shouting. I wanted to give Charlotte that party energy.

“No way, really??”

“Yeah!! I think I mentioned those two specific colors in my diary earlier this year. We’re so alike, Charlotte.” I held my hand up, and she gave me a high five. Sophie noticed the sound and turned away from her group. Soon, she was walking toward us as Jasmine, Anna, and Claire watched.

“Hey, what are you guys up to?” Sophie asked. She turned her head and waved for the rest to come over to us.

“Nothing much,” I said. “Just hanging out and enjoying the fruit punch.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte said. “We’re chilling.” She reached for a cup and poured herself some fruit punch, and then she lowered her mask and took a sip.

“Nice,” Sophie said. She turned to her left and saw another friend walking towards us at the back of the house.

“Lucy!” Sophie shouted. I recognized her face for a key reason, and my brain took a few seconds to figure out it was that girl who saw Sophie and I run into the bathroom at school in February or whenever. Lucy paused and stared at me, and I stared back. Then, her smile cracked and she started laughing loudly. “You’re that other girl from the bathroom, hahahahah!!” Lucy yelled. I started laughing too, and I walked over and gave her a good hug. “Yup, I’m that bathroom girl. I can’t believe you and Sophie are friends, that’s so funny. When did that happen?”

“We got paired up in a breakout room in school a couple months ago and I was like ‘hey weren’t you that girl who ran into the bathroom’ and she was like ‘yeah’ so we hit it off and became friends. It’s a funny way to start a friendship.”

“It sure is,” I nodded. “We can do the same thing.”

“Of course!”

Lucy walked over to the heart of the party, and I followed her. Everyone else stood in a sort of half-circle. “Lucy,” I said. “This is Charlotte, Claire, Anna, and Jasmine.”

“Sup,” Lucy said. She went on to hug everyone, including Charlotte. After that, the party moved along with no one left behind. Chatting, vibing, drinking (no alcohol, of course), and whatnot. Charlotte was by my side the whole time. It was great. It was special.

• •  •

After a good time hanging out, Sophie decided to turn things up a notch. While the rest of us were talking together, Sophie abruptly cut the music, brought it back with a new playlist, and raised the volume up. We were all watching her when she shouted “come on!” and started bobbing her head. The first song up was 2011’s “Party Rock Anthem” by LMFAO. It was such a stupid song that I loved it. It was impossible to hate. People started walking up and bobbing their heads too. Before we knew it, everyone was together in the middle and dancing. When the beat fully hit, all of us were together in a circle with our hands on each other’s shoulders while jumping to the beat.

Charlotte was on my right, Jasmine was on my left, and each of their cold, anti-social moods vanished completely. Charlotte was laughing hysterically half the time, and Jasmine had the biggest open grin on her face. Everyone was just having a damn good time and forgetting about everything. At that moment, all was forgiven. Now was the time to throw down, regardless of whether our moves were jaw-droppingly impressive or unbelievably terrible. We didn’t care about what the neighbors thought of all this or whether any of this was getting us infected with Covid.

After 25 minutes and five energetic songs, we all unanimously agreed to step back and take a breather. Charlotte immediately collapsed to her knees and started laughing awkwardly. She would laugh two or three times and take a short but deep breath. I let out one little chortle as I looked down at her. “What- why,” I said before I ran out of breath. “Why are you laughing like that? Hahaha...” She gave herself a few seconds, looked up, and said “that was the best thing ever…” Her eyes sparkled. I smirked. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear and see from her today.

• •  •

Later in the evening, at around 10:30 PM, Sophie announced that the cake was ready for us whenever we were. Immediately, everyone started talking on top of each other saying “yeah” and “nice!” Sophie nodded and went around into the house and came walking back with a cake in each of her hands. One was white with some orange, and the other was very yellow and light brown. The cake dedicated to Charlotte almost looked like a sunflower. When Sophie got closer, the rest of us all gravitated toward her, and when she set the cakes down on one of the tables, we were practically surrounding her. “Oh, damn it. I forgot the lighter and the candles. Be right back.” We all stayed right around the cakes. They looked good. Looked sugary for sure, but good.

Once Sophie came back with the stuff, she stuck one candle in the middle of each cake, lit each one, and then waved at one of her recently-arrived friends, and they pulled out a camera from their purse. Then, we all bunched up together for a photo to keep this day as a memory. Sophie shouted: “To me and to Charlotte!” Everyone smiled and said the same thing. The friend held their retro Polaroid camera still as the flash hit our faces. After the photo was printed and faded in, it was perfect. You could tell I had a big smile on my face even with my mask on, Charlotte looked like she was having the time of her life, and everyone else looked like they were in a 2000s teenage party. It evoked a warm sense of nostalgia. Different from the type of nostalgia that haunted me just two weeks earlier.

No longer was I eternally restrained by the chains of forced isolation. No longer was this pandemic going to keep me locked into my corner. No longer was I haunted by old memories of another life; memories of freedom, innocence, and childhood. I’m done with that. I’m new again. This party was a start. I can get along with the world, and the world can do the same for me.

At the end of the day, the birthday party wasn’t necessarily the greatest in history. It was a bit slow at times, which isn’t a bad thing, and when we were dancing and having a blast, we were leagues from the biggest crowd of people ever. Sometimes I forgot it was supposed to be a birthday celebration for two different people.

At the same time, tonight was unforgettable. It’s quite a step forward to have a party with eight people during Covid, especially as infections are rising again. Since I’m far from the most sociable person, a party like this was rare for me, which made it stick out like a rose in a wheat field. And above all else, seeing the starlike gleam in Charlotte’s eyes in the later hours of the party pulled at my heartstrings and cut them up into bits. Never did I think I could lift up someone like I did today. Nor did I think I could lift Sophie up either. Yet, days and weeks after my darkest days, I healed both of them. It was a miracle.

• •  •

The party ended about a quarter to midnight. Surprisingly, Charlotte was one of the few people who stayed until the very end. Knowing her timid, sensitive personality, I thought her parents would have been the kind of people who would have picked her up early on, like at 9:30 or so. But I guess I didn’t expect Charlotte to have such a fantastic time either, so maybe I’m just now figuring her out. The only way to know for sure is to spend more quality time with her.

I didn’t get to spend much time talking with Jasmine, Lucy, and the rest of them, but we sure spent a lot of time dancing. My legs were sore from jumping so much, and my entire body was ready to lay down and get some rest. Fortunately, I probably still had several decades of life left in me, so I’m sure I could fit a few good hours with Jasmine and them at some point in the future.

When the party stopped, it was extremely quiet. Crickets chirped, some trees blew every once in a while, and aside from that, it was like the vacuum of space. After me, Charlotte, and Sophie finished cleaning up the backyard, we all quietly marched over to the front of the house. Only then did it hit me that it was cold out here. All that time moving and dancing around while wearing my jackets kept me warm, and once I was standing out in the middle of the night, the forces of nature dug back into me. The party was so much fun that I forgot it was freezing cold. That’s a (unique) sign of a party that won’t be forgotten.

After a few minutes of the three of us peacefully standing together, Charlotte’s mom finally pulled up to the side of the road. As she slowed down and looked at us, she rolled down the window and asked “have you party animals been waiting out here? It’s cold! Oh- where are my manners? Happy birthday!!! Sophie, right?” Sophie nodded. Charlotte’s mom crossed her hands on her chest. “Thank you so, so much. My Charlotte has been so excited for this- oh, you wouldn’t believe it! And what do you know, she looks like she just had the time of her life with how her hair’s all messed up, right?? Hahaha.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte said as she turned to face me and then Sophie. “It was a lot of fun. I’ll probably remember this forever.”

Fluttering, Sophie said: “Hah, thank you. It means a lot, really. I’m glad everyone seemed to have a great time.”

“I had a blast,” Charlotte said. “We should do this more often.”

“Absolutely, we will,” Sophie grinned.

“Well, I should get going,” said Charlotte.

“Hey,” her mom cut in as she turned to me. “Do you need a ride back, young lady? I don’t want you waiting here in the dark and cold.”

“Um… sure, that would be great.”

“Well, come on in!”

I turned to Sophie and wrapped my arms around her in a strong hug. Even with our big jackets pushing each of us back, we felt close.

“This was perfect,” I whispered. “You made Charlotte feel great and you made me feel great. Thank you.”

I let go, and Sophie gave me a warm, shy smile as she looked at my eyes in that grateful sort of way. “Love you, Nicole,” she whispered. She then turned to Charlotte and hugged her tightly. “Happy birthday, Charlotte. I’ll see you again soon.” They kept hugging for several seconds until Charlotte finally let go. Charlotte then turned around, walked forward, and got into the middle row of the car. Then, I walked up to the same car door, but I stopped and looked back.

“Goodbye, my second flame,” I said to Sophie.

She laughed. “Goodbye, twin. Keep on shining.”

I smiled and nodded. I got into the car. I told Charlotte’s mom the direction to my house, and we were off. The ride was quiet, with just the low radio serving as background noise for my loud thoughts. With Sophie and I’s escape into the forest on the 8th and with today’s excellent party, I was pretty sure that I was no longer a sole soft flame. I’ve become new again. Gone are my days of isolation. Right now, I am in the perfect mood to get out there and go beyond what I’ve done in the past. Go meet new people. Go strengthen bonds. Why should a pandemic slow me down? Why should anything stop me? Why should I look back at the darkness if the light in front of me is so beautiful and ethereal? All those questions were up to me. Only time will tell how I answer them.

After watching the trees whiz by for a little while, Charlotte’s mom got to my house. She pulled in on the side of the road and stopped. I thanked her, and I gave Charlotte one last hug for the day.

“Goodbye, good friend,” I said. “Until next time.”

“Until next time.”

I got out of the car, took a few steps forward, looked back, and waved Charlotte goodbye as her mom slowly drove off. Charlotte was smiling at me with a big happy grin. Her starry eyes remained. What a sweet person she was.

As I turned away from the highway and looked back at the forest behind my house, I was reminded of Sophie. My second flame. Second. Two. 2. Nicole 2. Maybe Nicole 2 was here now. There wasn’t a sure way to know yet, but what I do know is that the show must go on.

 

A lot more is coming my way in the near future, and I’m ready for all of it.

 

Bring it the hell on.