Spiral Bound Journal

Ultrasonic Sound

"Ultrasonic Sound" by Hive, re-released in 1999 and more likely to be dated with that year

Mitch: How are you doing?

I peer at my phone while waiting for more registers to open up. I feel for this morning crew, likely not expecting to wake up to find triple the usual morning crowd. The grocery store closest to Darren and me is closed, along with almost everything else in the shopping center. Home Depot is the only exception, giving people until 6 PM time to stock up on plywood and all the accessories for boarding things up. Come to think of it, I wonder how many people have actually bothered with sleep. I know I didn't. Tears brimming on my lower eyelid, I press on the comment field to type a reply.

me: Tired. Scared. Not sure where to go if we have no choice but to leave. The building has to catch on fire at this point.

I tuck my phone back in my purse and try not to cry. Aside from a two hour nap between four and six this morning and a few hours between ten and one, my sleep has been at best a joke. The sirens screaming through the neighborhood wasn't new given how COVID-19 has made the last couple months pretty tense. The smoke over the trees is a whole other story. When I said to my counselor yesterday afternoon that I hadn't gone to Midtown out of a fear that I wouldn't return, I wasn't expecting to be proven correct in such brutal fashion. My contemplations are interrupted by an announcement that another register was open and that Darren and I could go over.

"It's one thing to go grocery shopping during a pandemic," I mutter. "Riot grocery shopping is somehow worse."

"No doubt," Darren replied in kind.

We shift our efforts into concentrating long enough to put groceries on the conveyor belt and prepping our reusable bags. When did these tasks require the same brain power as landing on the goddamn moon?

After we buy our groceries, Darren decides to stop by Home Depot for a couple small items. It's a strange, non-essential purchase to make, but it gives me a moment to sit and not think too much. Still, I need something to keep me busy while I wait for him to get what he needs. I dig out my phone and find another text from Mitch.

Mitch: Looks like shit's gettin' real down there. I'd invite you over, but Samantha's allergic to cats. I know you don't want to leave them behind.

me: Absolutely not. That's what makes this so hard. I kinda get why some people will not heed evacuation orders for a hurricane. Then again, they get more time to plan. Darren and I don't even have that.

Mitch: I bet. What is your plan?

me: Go home. Put away the groceries. Pack an emergency bag. Figure where I can go. I have a standing offer from my grandboss.

Mitch: Oh, wow. How about your in-laws?

me: They're in Northeast, still in the city. That may not help much.

Mitch: Oh yikes!

me: That's one way to put it.

A car door opening diverts my attention from my phone. I look over and spot Darren sliding into the passenger seat.

"Got everything?" I ask.

"Yep," Darren replies. "Hear anything?"

"Just chatting with Mitch. If his wife wasn't allergic to cats, we could flee to his place."

"He lives way a ways, though."

"Yeah, but I take what I can get. In this case, right now we'll have to keep looking so we have Plans C through F as least roughed out."

With that, I push the button to start the Prius. Once we finish the drive home, I am hoping we don't have to go anywhere else for a while. On the other hand, what will it cost me to stay? Shaking my head, I realize there's no such thing as a right answer here.