I watch the video, confused at first. I hear a conversation that sounds familiar, then realize it’s familiar because it’s a conversation that happened yesterday. I stop the video, feeling a little sick, and it’s not because I’m in a hospital room.

I close out of the video, look up at Flora, but her head is down, looking at her phone. I watch all the comments roll in.

The #quaranteens kissed!

We know the #quaranteen names! Flora and Oliver.

Maybe Oliver’s mom should be in #quaranteen to get her temper under control.

Poor Kelsey! #quaranteen

Kelsey should break up with Oliver. His mom is psycho and he clearly likes Flora. #quaranteen

Is Oliver going to kiss Kelsey and get her sick? #quaranteen

Oliver can give me a kissing disease #quaranteen

One of the #quaranteens is sick!

Flora deserves to be sick for trying to mess up Kelsey and Oliver. #quaranteen

#TeamKelser #quaranteen

#TeamFloriver #quaranteen

Flora finally looks up, disbelief on her face. She’s still shaking her head when her mom walks into her room, her arms full of cough drops, tissues, and tea. A few minutes later, Kelsey waltzes down the hallway and into my room.

Kelsey grins, and the knowing look on her face takes me right back to the skating rink in Prospect Park. “Hello, Oliver,” she says calmly, formally. She holds out her arms, and I slowly get out of bed and give her a hug, but something about the way she’s hugging me seems familiar, reminds me of the way someone else has hugged me before.

I pull back quickly. She’s got a sympathetic look on her face, and I think of her hug—the way people hugged me at my dad’s funeral. It’s … comforting. She squeezes my shoulder, and I remember my great-aunt Bertha doing the same thing.

“It must be so hard on you that Flora is sick,” she says in the same calm voice.

“It is,” I say. I shake my head, trying to snap out of the trance she’s put me in. “But why did you do it? How could you do it? All these strangers are saying things about me, about you, about Flora, about our lives. I just … ugh! My mom is going to be so mad!” I realize I sound like a whiny six-year-old, but I don’t care.

She looks surprised. “Do what?”

“Put that video online!” I practically bellow. I didn’t know I knew how to bellow.

“Oh, that?” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “What’s the big deal? I wanted to get a video of me meeting my boyfriend’s mom for the first time.”

“What’s the big deal?” I snap. “It makes my mom look crazy! It makes it sound like she’s attacking you. It tells people, strangers, that Flora is sick. It tells people things about me that—”

“Well, maybe it sounds like she’s attacking me because that’s what happened,” Kelsey interrupts.

I keep waiting for the punch line. She’s making me feel … crazy. “And Team Kelser? Team Floriver? Really?”

“Oh, that? It’s so funny, but people think there’s some kind of love triangle between the three of us. But that’s so silly, because we’re the ones dating! It doesn’t bother me because the drama is just for show. Everyone knows we belong together,” she says nonchalantly.

She doesn’t wait for me to respond. I’m still too in shock that people are bored enough to mash up my name with anyone else’s. Too in shock that people think I could be involved in any kind of love triangle.

Am I Team Floriver or Team Kelser?

“Don’t you think the world deserves to know how hard it is for us?” she says.

“For us?” I’m trying to focus on what she’s saying.

“All the things we have working against us. You’re in quarantine. Your mom disapproves of our relationship. Your roommate is a threat to your health. It’s the perfect story line, isn’t it?”

“Huh?” I say, confused.

“I bet Romeo and Juliet wish they could have told people how unfair their parents were. They couldn’t,” she says with a knowing grin, “but we can.”

Her saying Romeo makes me think of Joey, which makes me think of Flora. I look across the hallway, but she’s talking to her mom.

“Past is past, Oliver,” Kelsey says. She squeezes my shoulder again. “But I can see it’s really bothering you. I’ll take the video down.” She fiddles with her phone, then says, “All gone!”

“Really? That’s it? But what about all the people who saw it already?”

“I can’t imagine it was that many people.”

“I don’t know. It seems like a lot of people commented on it.”

“Really?” Kelsey’s eyes light up. She pauses and says, “I mean, I’m just excited that you’ll have so many people to support you. If you change your mind and want me to put it up again, just let me know. Now, what else can I do to make things better?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I wish Flora wasn’t sick.”

Kelsey flinches a bit when I say Flora’s name. “That reminds me, you should probably post an update about her soon. People are worried. Something to think about. Is there anything else you need in the meantime? Anything I can get you?”

I wish she could bring in a carton of fresh air. I wish she could bring in the smell of newly cut grass, of flowers, of garlic cooking at a restaurant. At this point I’d even take the smell of summertime New York City streets when it’s trash pickup day. I wish she could bring in a car, and I could be on a road trip somewhere, anywhere. Finally, I say, “Well … this is lame, but I’ve been craving gumdrops. I used to eat them on road trips with my parents when I was a kid. I know I could ask my mom to get them, but then she’ll lecture me about staying healthy and whatnot.”

“Sure, Oliver, I can do that,” she says.

“Really?” I never thought the idea of gumdrops could make me so happy.

“Absolutely.” She smiles warmly. “I think it’s time for a quaranteen picture!”

“Oh, right, that thing.”

“That thing, you silly!” Kelsey scoffs.

Before I realize what’s happening, Kelsey gets up from her chair and throws her arms around my neck. Her sudden closeness inadvertently makes me grin as she snaps a picture on her phone. She shows it to me, and I look so happy. We look so happy. If I were an outsider, I would never guess the picture had been taken in a hospital room, with someone with a rare form of mono just a few feet away. At the thought of Flora, I feel the smile leave my face. But Kelsey is already uploading the picture.

She taps the screen a few times. “There!” She looks at me. “This could be our most liked post yet!”

“Right, yeah, maybe,” I say uneasily.

“What’s wrong?”

“It just feels … kind of bad.”

“What does?”

“Social media. Likes. I don’t know. Flora is sick. Other people could get sick.”

“And the perfect thing to do when you’re feeling upset or worried or scared is to reach out to others on social media. Share your story with others. Let others take away your pain.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say uncertainly.

She looks down at her phone and squeals, “Ohhh! Forty-eight likes already!”

I pick up my phone and look at the post: Taking care of #mybravequaranteen. Hope I can make him feel better! #quaranteen

But somehow … I feel even worse than I did before.