Self Isolation with Bang Chan at My House

Chapter Eleven

No one says anything over the roar of the falls and the river as we walk back to the car. I take deep breaths, savouring the crisp, fresh air as much as I can, before we return to home isolation again. Most of the visitors are still above, at the look out posts. Only a few adventurous souls seem to have braved the walk down the icy steps to the bottom of the ravine.

I try to walk as far around the couples and families as is possible on the small river's edge. I hold my breath whenever someone walks by too close. It's a habit I'll probably have forever now.

I watch the two kids from earlier climb up the steps and grab the wall that runs along the side, on their way up. I'll have to sanitize my hands when we get back to the car. And my phone too.

The way up the stairs is a lot easier than the way down was, and I don't need Chris' help, though he offers it to me. He looks back every now and then, over his shoulder, to make sure I'm still good. He's apparently already come to know my habit of clumsiness.

I stop to take a photo of the ascending steps. From this angle, they look like a stairway to some Chinese monastery in the sky, from a Ghibli film or something. I'm not ready to go home, but we have no choice.

Once we're back in the car, I realize how cold I actually am. My hands are almost numb and my nose literally stings from the cold. Maybe it's good we didn't stay longer. Now isn't the time to catch a bad cold, with COVID out there.

Mom takes off full speed, tires spinning and kicking up rocks and snow, before we even have our seatbelts on.

"Mom, we can just stop at-"

"We're not stopping anywhere," Mom snaps. "I'll make it home."

I sigh. Mom takes the home isolation thing very seriously and seeing so many people here at the falls I think has stressed her out. But I'm pretty sure the wind carried all the 'breathing droplets' full of potential COVID germs, away out here in the great outdoors. It's probably because Auntie works at the hospital and Mom gets all the bad news from her.

I sanitize my hands, with the watermelon hand sanitizer I got from Bath and Body Works before their stores closed for COVID. Chris holds out his hand and I give him some too, then we dig into the lunch Mom packed.

The drive back is melancholy. The fresh air has zapped all of our energy.

Chris falls asleep again and I look through my photos all the way back, trying to decide which three would be the best to post on Instagram. I can't post too many at once.

The best photo by far on my camera roll, is the one of the ascending steps, because Chris is in it, climbing up and looking like a male model, even from behind.

Especially from behind.

I quickly put the photo in a secret folder and look at the others. Mom's phone has the photos of me and Chris beside the rock.

"Mom, "I say softly, not wanting to wake Chris. "Can you send me some of your pictures when we get home?"

"Sure," she says. "I'll send you the best ones."

Hopefully she means the one she took of me and Chris. I lay my head back and close my eyes. Now that we're heading home, that nervous feeling is returning too as I remember all the things I was worried about before we came out on this day trip.

If Chris sneaks out again tonight I have to confront him and ask him where he's going, or what's going on.

As we near town, a heavy feeling settles onto me. I don't want to go back home, especially in our part of town. I want to go away for the weekend, to the big city, and stay at a hotel and go to the wave pool, or go on a shopping spree, or just visit the indoor botanical gardens. We just went out for the day, and I still want more.