{"id":970,"date":"2020-05-15T19:16:16","date_gmt":"2020-05-15T19:16:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sites.rutgers.edu\/writers-house-review\/?page_id=970"},"modified":"2020-08-25T20:55:50","modified_gmt":"2020-08-25T20:55:50","slug":"day-27-of-121-virtual-birthday-party","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/sites.rutgers.edu\/writers-house-review\/whr-volume-1\/day-27-of-121-virtual-birthday-party\/","title":{"rendered":"Day 27 of 121: Virtual Birthday Party"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Luna Laliberte<\/em><\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

I turn 21 today. I\u2019ll be hosting my own party via three services. Those that want to come couldn\u2019t choose between FaceTime, Skype, and WhatsApp, so I decided to just do all three. I wish we could have my party in-person, but we aren\u2019t allowed to do things in-person anymore. Everything is virtual now. And for good reason, I suppose.<\/p>\n

I pull on the string that turns on the only light in the room. The fan starts turning. The room is still dark, the corners sheathed in shadows, but I figure that if I open the blinds for the window, I\u2019ll have enough light that I can show up on screen. \"\"The rest I do from habit. I set up my plastic chair next to my desk, connect my laptop and phone to their chargers and set up a glass of ice water to the side of my desktop. I spend the last few minutes arranging things around the room. I shift the Game Gyaru poster out of Trinity celtic knot I got from Ireland closer to my display. My square is sparse, just a table,<\/span>a bed, and some kitchen counter space. But it\u2019s my square, so I do what I can to liven it up a little. I make sure my hair is parted to the right, and that my lipstick is pink enough to look natural, but not too pink as to draw attention. I undo the first three buttons of my white blouse, then do them back up, then decide to just keep the first undone. My phone buzzes with my alarm for 3PM. It\u2019s time.<\/span><\/p>\n

I connect to Facetime on my iMac, Skype from my laptop, and WhatsApp on my phone. Set up is routine. My birthday, March 17, falls right in the middle of the worst season. Social distancing is at its worst \u2013 or best, I guess \u2013 during the months of February to May. Everyone over the age of 18 and not married lives alone during this time. They say it\u2019s the best way to keep everyone safe. So, we do it. I glance around my government mandat<\/p>\n

ed quarantine square, at the white walls, white bed sheets, white kitchen counters. White chairs, white desk, white fridge. White is easiest to spot dirt. White won\u2019t lose color when you clean with bleach. White is the most common color, the preferred color. White is the color the government supports.<\/p>\n

My mom is the first to join. She hates that we have to be apart every year now. I personally don\u2019t think staying away from my family helps lower the spread, but I don\u2019t want us arrested for disobeying the law. Besides, it\u2019s not that bad. My residential square is small, but it\u2019s enough room for me. I can hang up as many posters as I want. I can bring a small TV, and all of my computer monitors. I can play my music as\u00a0loud as I want, until 11pm. So long as I pay the $650 every month on time, I can get unlimited internet. It\u2019s usually doled out in data bytes and sold as a commodity, but my landlord\u2019s sweet on me. In these times, you take what you can get.<\/p>\n

My mom starts off by asking what I had for dinner, if I bought enough water to last me the next two weeks, whether or not I\u2019d taken my supplements today, so on and so forth. It\u2019s the same worries every time. I do what I can to reassure her, lie about my supplements \u2013 I hate swallowing pills, so I only take one per day instead of the recommended three. I haven\u2019t noticed any difference, and we all still get sick regardless of the pills. I don\u2019t think it really matters.<\/p>\n

Daniel and Jon join, the two cousins closest to my age that still talk to me now that we\u2019re older and busier. All of my family uses WhatsApp since it\u2019s easiest to communicate with our relatives overseas. Then Sarah, my best friend from high school, cues up on Skype, and I accept her call. She invites her boyfriend Sam and another friend of theirs. I don\u2019t know them, but I don\u2019t deny their invitation. The more on my video call party the better. Some of my college friends, the ones I still manage to talk to after years without in-person classes, join on FaceTime. I end up with about 13 people attending my virtual birthday. It\u2019s nice to know I have 13 people who care enough to take the time to call. Quarantining gets lonely, y\u2019know?<\/p>\n

Chatting is hard with this many people, but we manage. We\u2019ve learned to take turns in our conversations. We know how to mute ourselves if we aren\u2019t talking. We\u2019ve arranged our house furniture to have that requisite white wall background, and we know to schedule meals around virtual chats so that we don\u2019t chew on mic, and we know how to speak in-person quietly so as not to disturb the conversation happening on each other\u2019s phones. Our lives have changed to accommodate the technology that both facilitates and eases the pain of our isolation.<\/p>\n

A half hour in, I take the cupcake I bought yesterday out of the fridge. My phone is getting hot and my laptop\u2019s fan is whirring loudly. We don\u2019t have much time left, so my callers sing happy birthday while I sink a candle into pink frosting. About five of them glitch out on the last few notes. I close my eyes and pretend to make a wish. My family and friends clap, and it\u2019s out of synch and clipping the audio, but I smile politely. I thank them for coming, and they thank me for hosting them, and then hang up one by one, taking time to personalize their goodbyes. My phone dings and I tap it to see I\u2019ve gotten five new gift-cards sent to my email. One of them is $50 from my mom, and the subject reads Here you go babyg et yirswlf somthing n\u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n

I can\u2019t help grinning. Oh, Mom. Four years of virtual living and you still can\u2019t type for shit. Sarah\u2019s manicured nails call my attention back to my laptop.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you got a few minutes left, hun? I\u2019ve got some tea you\u2019ll love to sip at,\u201d she croons.<\/p>\n

I touch my laptop\u2019s keyboard. It\u2019s definitely hot, but not burning. \u201cI\u2019ve got five,\u201d I declare. \u201cGimme the scoop.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sarah leans forward as if to tell me a secret, and for a while all I can see are the pores on her nose and the perfect shine of her cherry red lip gloss. \u201cOhmigosh, okay, you\u2019ll never guess this. Remember Margaret from middle school? Huge glasses, always with her nose in a book, big nerd vibes?\u201d<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t. \u201cUh huh,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, well, she\u2019s with Rashawn now! Can you believe that? Never-used-a-condom-Rashawn! Gunna-join-the-Crypts-Rashawn!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, wow.\u201d I guess I should feel surprise, but I have this vague sense of concern that lasts for a few moments, and then nothing at all. I don\u2019t know Margaret, and I barely remember Rashawn as that scrawny black kid all the teachers hated in high school. I don\u2019t care much for them anymore. I can\u2019t care for them anymore. Sarah was always better at staying connected with those we used to know.<\/p>\n

\u201cExACTly!\u201d She squeals. \u201cI know, I can\u2019t believe it either! It drives me crazy every time I see their Instas. You\u2019d never think that kind of thing will happen, right? Especially not between nerd and gang reject. But it does! And, get this, and\u2013\u201d she leans in even closer to the camera. The only thing on screen is her neck and the small heart-shaped locket Sam got her for their first-year anniversary. \u201cAnd they\u2019re not observing self-quarantine!\u201d she whispers-shouts.<\/p>\n

My eyebrows rise. \u201cThat\u2019s ballsy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sarah\u2019s face comes back into view, eyes wide and mouth open. \u201cUm, that\u2019s illegal<\/em>. They\u2019re, like, walking around fucking Coney Island and getting ice cream and posting about it and shit. What are they even thinking?\u201d<\/p>\n

I frown. \u201cThat\u2019s stupid. It\u2019s only a matter of time before the task force brings them in.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know! They\u2019re so dumb for posting it online, but like, it\u2019s even dumber doing it in the first place. It\u2019s people like them that make that Chinese virus keep coming back.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mean COVID? SARS-2?\u201d I interrupt.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what I mean. Ugh, god, if only they would just stay inside and be normal like everyone else, maybe we wouldn\u2019t have to all be inside every spring, y\u2019know? I can\u2019t believe it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sarah keeps talking. I stare at the perfectly drawn arch of her eyebrows, at the tiny flecks of concealer peppered around her face, and I wonder. How did we become friends again? All I remember is feeling so lonely after I moved to Bay Ridge. Sarah was the first to talk to me when I transferred schools. Rebecca, the girl bully of the school, had dunked my copy of Deathly Hallows<\/em> into the toilet. Sarah walked in and within seconds was fighting for me. I was mortified. I was in awe. We walked out of that bathroom covered in bites and bruises. For that year, we were inseparable.<\/p>\n

High school was almost the same. It was only when she started step-dancing and I joined the digital art club that things began to change. She bought herself makeup, and I bought myself a drawing tablet. She went out Friday nights after rehearsals, and I stayed up late animating. I was so enamored by the way she braided her hair, so besotted with how the corners of her mouth dotted her smirks, so taken by the laughter kept in her brown eyes, that I couldn\u2019t see us drifting apart until it was too late.<\/p>\n

She met Sam and started dating, but I stayed single. Her parents began watching FOX news, and my mom tuned in to CNN. Sarah was accepted into Brooklyn College, and I moved on to Rutgers University. And through it all, we stayed connected, poking each other on Facebook, liking each other\u2019s Instagram posts, and keeping SnapStreaks nearly 100 days at a time. We have each other\u2019s back, like we always have. But now it\u2019s from habit. It\u2019s from having always done it and not knowing how not to do it. It\u2019s a loyalty to routine, not to each other. Sometimes it hurts too much to think about that truth.<\/p>\n

\u201cLove, you hear me? You spacing out on me again?\u201d Her voice, teasing with the slightest edge of annoyance, reigns me back in.<\/p>\n

I flash her a sheepish grin. \u201cSorry Sarah,\u00a0 I think I\u2019m not feeling too well. I just got my latest shipment from Whole Foods and I can\u2019t remember if I put on gloves or not when I was putting the veggies in the fridge.\u201d<\/p>\n

She gasps and lays her pink acrylic nails over her lips. \u201cOh god, hun, you\u2019ve got the virus, don\u2019t you? It stays for 24 hours on cardboard! You\u2019ve gotta be more careful baby, you could die!\u201d<\/p>\n

I shake my head no but fake a cough. She jumps in her seat even though we\u2019re miles apart, as if she could somehow catch COVID through the screen. \u201cJesus! Please, go, go get yourself some water or fever suppressant, god. You\u2019d think the government would have a treatment by now, but no. When will this shit end?\u201d<\/p>\n

I shrug. \u201cBeats me. I just hope it\u2019s soon. I\u2019m going to go lay down, okay? I\u2019ll call you later.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnytime you need me, just ping, got it?\u201d she says, narrowing her eyes at me. It\u2019s like she\u2019s threatening me to keep her in the loop.<\/p>\n

I wink. \u201cBooty call you in three days’ time?\u201d I may not understand her anymore, but Sarah is still a joy to talk to. Just, not today.<\/p>\n

Sarah blows me a kiss. \u201cYou got it, boo. Later, luv!\u201d She hangs up, and I am more alone than before.<\/p>\n

I take a deep breath. My room is stuffy. The ceiling fan is swirling the dust around the whole damn room, but stopping it means stopping the only source of air flow I have. I want to open my window, but it\u2019s sealed shut. We aren\u2019t allowed to open windows except for fire emergencies. Opening it means pressing the fire alarm button, and I don\u2019t want to do that. I pick up Solnit\u2019s The Faraway Nearby<\/em>, drag my chair over to the window, and settle there with a blanket, some fuzzy socks, and a cup of chamomile tea. The sun is setting. I can\u2019t see it fall below the horizon because of the apartment complexes blocking my sight, but I can watch the colors of the sky turn from blue to pink to red to gold, and it calms me, if only for a little while. A single sheet of newspaper floats down the street, forgotten, or maybe abandoned. There is no one outside to watch.<\/p>\n

I put my book down some time later. My head churns from reading about moths and butterflies and Cupid and Narcissus and Mary Shelley. I take a second to think, and that second turns into 20 minutes of absently scrolling through my Instagram feed. A new fad has started. Photos of hands trying to touch across screens, fingertips placed gently to match the other\u2019s, couples all over the nation who have been separated because of the quarantine and yearn for each other\u2019s arms. I shake my head and look outside again. To my surprise, I see two people, a man and a woman. They are the recommended 6 ft apart, but their arms are stretched to close the distance. They wear blue plastic gloves and face masks. Their pinkies are linked together. They walk in step with each other. I watch, astonished at this blatant disobedience of the law. They pass around the corner, undisturbed, but I can\u2019t stop staring at the place they left.<\/p>\n

I lift my hand. Nails pale, and chewed through. A charcoal stain forever on my right pinky. An impression from my digital pen on my index finger. Dry skin. Papercuts. I close my hand. No one wants to look at me. No woman will want to hold my hand. Not until we at least stop this quarantine.<\/p>\n

I know what I want to wish for. I close my palms together as if in prayer. I wish to grasp another\u2019s hands in mine. I wish to do it before my birthday next year. I wish that the virus goes away soon.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Luna’s Bio:\u00a0<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Luna<\/span> is a senior graduating in May 2021 with a bachelor’s, majoring in Communication and minoring in Creative Writing and Education. She is also studying for her Master’s of Communication with a specialization in Digital Media and will be graduating once again in May 2022.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\n

Born in New York City,\u00a0Luna<\/span> spent most of her summers tucked between the shelves of her local libraries. She moved to Camden, New Jersey, shortly after signing up to become an online homeschool learner for high school. She developed a schedule for herself, so she could work, write, study, and play. She entered college with the idea of becoming a multilingual author, and now she’s planning on graduating as a multilingual author, teacher, and media creator. She credits her explosion of creative exploration to the Rutgers Creative Writing Club. Through RCWC, she found a community of fellow novelists, poets, stand-up comedians, and memesters to talk books with, and she can’t wait to see everyone in-person again.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Luna<\/span>\u00a0likes to talk long walks around Passion Puddle and Voorhees Chapel on Cook\/Douglas campus. She has a pet cat named Maximillian, and plenty of plot bunnies to spend her summer writing about.\u00a0Luna<\/span>\u00a0is excited to continue her writing career and hopes to find herself being published again soon.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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