I’m pacing around my room again, checking my phone, checking the hashtag. Kelsey hasn’t posted anything about our breakup yet, and my stomach feels like it does when I ride the creaky old elevator in my apartment building.
Flora’s dad and Goldy say good-bye, and then Flora turns the volume down on her TV.
Now I feel like the cable has broken on the elevator and I’m falling.
“How’s it going over there?” Flora finally says.
I throw the curtain open. Flora is sitting on her bed, and the afternoon light from outside lights up her face and hair again. “Kelsey left,” I blurt out.
“Well, visiting hour was over, right?”
“No, I mean, she left, left.”
“Like left for the day?”
“Like left the state.”
Flora bites her lip, and it looks like she’s trying to hide a smile. “But we still have a few days of quarantine. What are you going to do without her care?” I think she notices my annoyed reaction because she immediately says, “Okay, I’ll stop being mean. What happened? For real.”
She looks right at me, in that same direct Flora way she always does. The way that both kind of takes my breath away and completely relaxes me because it’s so honest and so pure. She thought of the hashtag thing but she doesn’t need to hide behind it.
“You were right,” I say.
“Right about what?”
“Kelsey. She was using me.” I don’t feel upset saying it. I feel … numb.
“I’m sorry, Oliver,” Flora says. “I really wanted to be wrong.”
“Thank you.”
And we just look at each other, the afternoon light streaming into our room.
“I need to focus my attention somewhere else too,” I finally say.
“Oh? And where is that somewhere else?” She’s biting her lip again, but it doesn’t work because I see her smile.
“Um, it’s kind of a someone else.”
“Go on.” She lets go of her lip, and now she isn’t hiding her smile anymore.
“It’s you. I want to focus my attention on you, Flora. I wasn’t much help taking care of you when you were sick, so I want to take care of you now. Be here for you now.” For some reason, my voice almost cracks.
“Oliver,” Flora says. I love the way she says my name. I open my mouth to tell her that, but I think by the way she’s looking at me, maybe she already knows it.
“Oliver,” she says again, smiling even bigger. “You already are.”
“Already am what? Go on,” I tease.
“Oliver, you already are taking care of me.”
She starts to push herself up in bed, and I give her my hand to help her. I know she’s not sick anymore, but it’s a reflex.
“See?” she says, taking my hand. “You know what to do before I even ask for help. My foot fell asleep and I can’t get up!”
I look at our intertwined hands, then up at her face. A strand of hair fell across her face while she moved herself. I push it gently out of her eyes, and she rests her head against my hand. Before I know what I’m doing, I run my fingers through her hair. It’s so soft. I smell the coconut and mint that is just her and just so familiar now. I want to kiss her. And I don’t need a girl handbook to tell me she wants to kiss me too.
And this time I can tell her wanting to kiss me has nothing to do with wanting to extend her quarantine stay. Our quarantine stay.
But I can’t. Because kissing her will extend our stay, and now that she is finally better, I just want to get us out of here and back to Brooklyn. A kiss got us here in the first place, and a non-kiss will get us out. Or something.
I feel like she has to know it too, so I’m surprised when she leans forward even farther, her face inches from mine. But unlike twenty-eight days ago, I see the kiss coming and I can pull my head away from hers, let go of her hand, let go of her hair, even though every inch of my body wants to kiss her so bad.
She looks so hurt, so rejected, then quietly says, “Right, I’m poisonous. Disgusting.”
“No, Flora, not at all. You know that’s not true.”
“I do? Remind me how I know that, please?”
“Because you’re—”
“Just forget it, Oliver, okay? I’ve already forgotten it.”
“Flora, I—”
She looks at me, more hurt than I’ve ever seen her, so I just say, “I’m sorry. When we get back to Brooklyn we can hang out.”
“Hang out! That’d be great. Good old pals. Maybe we can play Crazy Eights some more.”
“Flora, I’m sorry. I mean hang out like—”
“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” she says coldly.
She turns the TV on again, pulls the blankets up around her and over her head.
I stand there for a minute, feeling like an idiot, and even more clueless about girls than ever.
Finally, I go back to my side of the room and see that Kelsey has posted a selfie of her in sunglasses, giving the peace sign, with the hospital in the background. Hasta la vista, #quaranteen. Some people don’t know how good something is until it’s gone.
#TeamKelser is no more? #quaranteen
I always knew she was too good for him. #quaranteen
I’m totally going to ask Kelsey out. #quaranteen
Oliver is an idiot. #quaranteen
None of their comments sting as much as the conversation I just had with Flora.
I keep scrolling.
#TeamFloriver together at last! #quaranteen
I knew this day would finally come. #quaranteen
I can’t wait for Floriver to kiss again! #quaranteen
I put my phone down. What do a bunch of strangers on the Internet know, anyway?