Never Been Kissed

“Ma, are you teaching Hannah to bake bread?”

“Be glad she’s not making us go Little House on the Prairie with them.” My sister mumbles under her breath as if we’re in some type of solidarity right now over kitchen duty. I’m still mad her blood or not.

“Honestly, Lav I was worried the flour wasn’t good. You remember the last time Ma baked anything?”

We shake our heads drying plates.

“Can flour go stale?”

I lean in next to her whispering, “Do we want to find out?”

/> “Will one of you see if Mrs. Hoffman in 4D will roll two eggs from her doorway? She can have a can of tomato paste for them.” Ma shouts.

“Tough bargain. What if she wants our bag of baby carrots?”

“Then she can go screw. I ignored her gentleman caller a month ago carrying on like a banshee. I’ll be damn if I give that hussy my bag of baby carrots.” Ma snorts. Yeah, that was an awkward night for all of us.

“Ok Ma, that’s enough, little ears are listening.” I cover Hannah’s ear as she pulls them away.

“What’s a man caller?” My niece asks blinking her owlish eyes at me. I shrug and hope the question is deflected to my sister who should be a responsible parent every now and again. I might be the auntie, but I’m not obligated to explain those sorts of things to a seven-year-old.

“As if Laurel would know.” She teases me and I feel like the gauntlet has been thrown down.

“Girls.” Our mother clucks waving us toward the door. We’ve been reduced to shouting through walls. I volunteer as tribute because out of us all, Mrs. Hoffman actually likes me and I’ll get the eggs.

Mrs. Hoffman relents after I ask her nicely and promise to keep both my Ma and Marley on a leash. I don’t share that tidbit with Ma and escape to my room when my phone buzzes.

It’s Van face timing me.

“So since six feet apart isn’t enough, how about I rent a bubble costume?” He says deadpanning over the phone.

“Didn’t some adorable guy near Prospect Park do that already? Come on, you can do better than that.”

“You think there’s only one bubble costume in the city?”

“No, but they started a rooftop romance with a drone and we already know each other.” I muse.

Van mumbles. “Not biblically.”

I cough over my embarrassment. “You mean bubbly?”

“No, but I can see you’re not on board with this idea.”

“Well, let’s not be hasty. I don’t even know what it takes to sanitize a bubble costume. You’d be breathing your own air for some time and rolling it down city streets.”

“I could blow it up outside your building with a portable air pump.” He makes this sound like it’s no big deal at all.

“You have one of those?” He looks at me like I’m a little crazy and I huff. “Of course you do. You have everything.”

“Not everything.” He grunts looking as frustrated as I feel running his large hands over his head mussing up his slightly longer and way more disheveled pandemic hair.

“I don’t know.” I say unsure of what I mean. This. Him. Us. I really don’t know.

Van goes quiet and leans in closer to the screen like he’s going to tell me a story. “You’d be worth it though.”

“Let’s stick to the plan. This isn’t going to last forever.” I cross my fingers behind my back. Please don’t let this last forever.

I come into the kitchen to see what my sister is doing at eight in the morning. I’m pretty sure she’s never been up this early, not even to take Hannah to school which is usually my job or Ma’s. She’s whisking something in a bowl and sweating like it’s July, but it’s not. It’s April and the apartment is only a balmy 64 degrees because Ma hates paying the electric bill when sweaters and sweatpants suit her just fine. Once we get to May and June it’s a fight to get her to turn the AC on and its braless house coats and flip flops. I love my family, but I’ll take them clothed over half naked.