Distances
Meg March and John Brooke are trying to hold it together. John has handled the transition to online classes with unease but grace, moving his high school lessons from the grubby public school to the cramped office/ craft room in their small bungalow
He tapped on the door. “Meg? You in there?” Behind the door there was a titanic sniffle, followed by the most miserable sounding “No, I’m not.” John took a deep breath and cracked open the door, finding his wife wedged behind it, sitting with her head down and arms wrapped her knees, a little ball of motherly despair.
She looked up with bleary eyes. “I can’t do it anymore, John! I just can’t! Not for ten more days! Or longer. I’ve washed everything I can wash, I’ve tried every enriching educational thing I can think of! I cannot have my only social interaction for two weeks be my three year old children!”
“And what am I, chopped liver?” John asked, meaning for it to be funny and knowing, immediately, that it had been the wrong thing to say. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I have not been very helpful the last couple of days, and I apologize… I had my classes and my students and you had nothing but back to back episodes of children’s TV and nonstop sanitizing.”
It was true — he’d been so wrapped up in trying to put his entire curriculum online (complete with memes and appropriate pop culture references) that he hadn’t really made any time for his family.
The tears looked like they were going to start again. “But you’ve had classes to write, and the students need you –”
Oh, Saint Meg, always thinking she had to be all things to all people. John wedged his way inside the bathroom and sat down next to his wife, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her adorably messy head towards him.
“And my wife needs me, too,” he said, petting her hair and tucking in a few flyaways. “Let me hose off Demi and take the kids for a walk. We will stay,” he added, as Meg looked about ready to protest, “six feet away from everyone and I won’t let them touch a thing and you can have some alone time. You will not clean a thing until I get back. I will take care of the floor in the front room. The socks can wait.”