“I’m hiding out here. My brother and his family came over after dinner. To exchange gifts. And we were all supposed to stay outside. But it was cold. And ...” He shook his head. “It felt ridiculous. To be out on the porch, standing six feet apart. So my mom said, ‘This is stupid, just come in,’ and they did.”
“And you came out here?”
“I did.”
“What did you tell your family?”
“I didn’t say anything. I just walked right through the house, out the back door.”
“Are they going to be mad at you?”
“Maybe. They won’t mention it, though.”
“Why not?”
“Because we don’t do that. We’re stoic, Germanic types—inscrutable plainsmen. Aren’t you?”
“No,” Reagan said. “My family is very scrutable. Our closest neighbors growing up were five miles away, and they could still hear my sister and me fighting.”
“Well ... Nobody will say anything. If I go back in.”
“If?”
“Well, my brother’s family just broke down our wall, you know? They crossed our perimeter.”
“I do know.”
“Any one of them could have Covid. They have three kids—kids don’t even get symptoms half the time. They could be giving my parents Covid right now.”
“Probably not.”
“How doyouknow what’s probable?” He raised his voice and his shoulders. “How does anyone? It’s like—the air in there is different now. And if I go back in, I’m part of it. I keep thinking about all the terrible things that could happen from this moment on. Taking care of my parents. Taking care of myself. You can’t even visit someone in the hospital, you know?”
“I know.”
“And my brother will feel like shit if that happens. He’s not a bad person.”
“Is this the wrestler?”
“Yeah. I mean, not anymore. But yeah.”
“So you’re going to ... what?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “You must think I’m crazy. Paranoid.”
“I would have,” she said, “before. But now ... I don’t even know what it means to be crazy. If you’re as careful as you’re supposed to be, you seem neurotic. I feel neurotic. Now. And I never used to be. I’m the sort of person who’d share an ice cream cone with a dog.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“I know. But I’ve never cared about that sort of thing. I go swimming in lakes. I wear shoes in the house. If I drop my hot dog in the grass, I’ll just brush it off and eat it.”
Mason laughed.
“But now I wipe down my mail.”
“They say you don’t have to wipe down your mail,” he said.
“I know, but I’m in the habit now.”
