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I’d always thought that I might be a homebody. There was something so romantic about loving the space that you’re in. So many people are trapped within walls with people they despise, and I was lucky enough to live with my beautiful boyfriend in a frankly adorable apartment.
But, as it turned out, there was such a thing as too much of a good thing. And after six months trapped within these walls, I’d reached that point. More specifically, I realized that I had been crawling along rock bottom for at least a few days when the most interesting thing I could think to do was to stare at the pores of my skin in the mirror.
Yeah. Bleak.
“Ugh!” I shouted, dropping my head forward and definitely leaving a stupid forehead-shaped grease spot on the mirror. I didn’t care; at least it would give me something to clean later. Anything to kill the mind-numbing boredom of quarantine. I didn’t even notice my boyfriend poking his head around the open door, no doubt catching the perfect glimpse of my greasy mental breakdown.
“How’s it going?” he asked halfway through a laugh at my current plight.
“I feel awful,” I mumbled, turning with my head still on the mirror. But as soon as I saw him with his arms open, I abandoned the mirror without a second thought in favour of the much warmer embrace.
After he was able to breathe again under my death grip around his waist, Spencer coughed out a couple of words, “What’s wrong?”
It was a loaded question. The answer made me sound like a brat, but it was also just the truth.
“I’ve been inside this house for months, most of which were spent alone,” I mumbled, anyway, but then immediately regretted it. I could feel Spencer awkwardly shifting under my arms, and this time it wasn’t from my grip. “Sorry, that sounded ungrateful. I know your job is important.”
“It’s okay. I know it’s been hard on you,” he replied in that voice that told me it wasn’t really all that okay. I wondered if it was the fact that I was complaining about his job, or the fact that what I’d said was true. I knew he didn’t like leaving me here alone, but it was necessary for the ‘greater good.’ I just wanted to be the greater of the two for once.
Spencer must have seen it on my face, because when he pushed me away, he clapped his hands around my cheeks and pulled my lips up from their frown. “But I’m here now. Let’s do something fun.”
“Like what?” I muffled through the warped face.
“I don’t know, something to make you feel better.”
Even that bummed me out, because the reason I was staring at my pores happened to be ruined plans. I forced my face forward until he let me go, collapsing against his chest just to grumble, “I wanted to do a face mask, but my order got delayed thanks to this stupid virus. Apparently, it’s not enough to ruin my lungs or my life, it also wants to ruin my skin.”
But then he said something — one of those things that makes you wonder.
“Why don’t we make one?”
Slowly lifting my gaze to him, I narrowed my eyes and puckered my lips in a silent question.
Recognizing the strange behavior for what it was, Spencer defensively replied, “I know how to make a face mask.”
Like that’s what I was asking.
“Why do you know how to make a face mask?”
“They aren’t new!” he shrieked, beginning what I was sure would be a long rant if I didn’t quickly put an end to it early. “Cultures have been using average food products for skin care and hygiene for centuries.”
“That does not answer my question,” I giggled when his cheeks and ears started to turn pink.
He looked away from me when he mumbled, “Contrary to popular belief, I do put at least a little effort into my appearance.”
His pout was so serious that I almost felt bad.
“Okay, okay. Sorry, grumpy,” I said with a sympathetic pat on the top of his head. He tried to hide the way it made him smile, but there was never any hiding of that adorable grin.
Still, Spencer sighed in resignation, “Do you want me to make you one?”
“Yes please!” I squeaked, already dragging him back through the tiny bathroom door. I didn’t stop bouncing all the way to the kitchen, where Spencer seemed to have already mapped out his plan. I watched with fascination as he placed an avocado, honey, and almond meal on the table in front of me.
“Honey? I asked with a slight grimace, picking up the jar and inspecting the piece of honeycomb suspended in the liquid. “Won’t I be sticky?”
“Not after you wash it off. Honey is a very popular ingredient in early and homemade face masks. It’s a natural antibacterial and full of antioxidants. It’s also a humectant, so it’ll draw moisture from the air and trap it against your skin.”
He explained it so succinctly that I almost thought that I understood what he said. But then I was just staring at him again, holding up an avocado as if to ask why I wanted guacamole on my face.
“Avocados and almonds actually both share a lot of the same benefits. They both have large amounts of Vitamin E in them. Basically, we’re slathering antioxidants on our face. These ones just taste better than you might be used to,” he said while he smushed and stirred, his words almost taking on a song-like cadence.
Meanwhile, I scrunched my nose at the thought of eating these three things together, although with more thought I realized he wasn’t entirely wrong. Just a bunch of sweet fats. Spencer wasn’t paying attention to that grimace though, still very excited by the antioxidants, avocados, and almonds.
“Not to mention Vitamin E has been shown to prevent ultraviolet damage. So maybe we can go for a walk later if you’re up for it. Most homemade face masks would include lemon juice or some other acid, but almond meal is a gentler exfoliant, so sunlight should be fine.”
Spencer placed the bowl down in front of me first, very proud of his sweet green concoction. I, on the other hand, just sort of looked at the bowl. Leaning forward, I smelled the familiar grassy scent of Summer and the outdoors before peering back up at my boyfriend.
“What?” he asked.
I didn’t give him an answer. Not a good one, anyway. Instead, I quickly grabbed a handful of the paste and slapped it on his face. Spencer shrieked, honest to god shrieked at the sensation, flinching so far that he nearly fell over. Without ever stopping laughing, I grabbed more sticky handfuls and chased him around the kitchen.
Eventually, he caved, reluctantly lowering himself into a chair, while clad in an avocado, almond, and honey covered shirt. I took my seat on his lap, dragging the bowl over so we could both smear the mask over each other’s faces until very little human-colored skin remained.
And once we finished, we admired our handiwork in the ever flattering form of the iPhone camera. The pictures would be the first indication of my survival through quarantine. The rest of the time I never felt good enough about myself to even take a picture, much less share it with the world.
But that was the thing about Spencer. No matter how depressed or desolate, he would always be there to make me smile and post a horribly ugly Shrek-colored selfie. As I scrolled through the feed after posting, though, I was buried in a sea of familiar faces and memories that felt like a lifetime away.
“How do you feel now?”
The question caught me off guard, but I was still able to give a somewhat decent answer, albeit with a shrug.
“Better.”
“Not good, though?” he sounded both defeated and determined, which was comforting in its own way. But the truth was that the issues plaguing me went deeper than clogged pores and UV damage. The problems I had were bigger than Spencer could handle, even with that genius brain.
I sighed, putting my phone down and sliding it away, hoping that whole ‘out of sight, out of mind’ thing wasn’t a myth… while also really, really hoping it was.
“Sometimes I just get worried that everyone will… I don’t know, forget about me?”
“Impossible.”
He’d said it just like one of his facts. It should have made me happy, but it didn’t. Truthfully, I didn’t feel much of anything at all.
“Yeah, says the guy I live with, who also happens to have an eidetic memory,” I reminded, staring straight ahead at the wall and wishing I could bury my face in something before I decided to cry.
But Spencer seemed hellbent on not letting that happen. He tilted his head over to me until my eyes were assaulted by nothing but my guacamole-colored boyfriend.
“You don’t even need a good memory to remember you, much less a perfect one,” he said quietly, his hands grabbing mine and holding on for dear life. “You are unforgettable.”
It was a fight I knew I would lose, so I surrendered. Brushing my thumb over the back of his hand, I bit down on my bottom lip as I tried to formulate the chaotic, spiraling thoughts.
“Fine,” I conceded. “But what if I forget?”
Spencer came prepared, already shooting into his explanation like this was a chess game I’d lost six moves ago.
“You love your friends and family too much to just forget them. You talk about them every day.”
“I guess,” I muttered, continuing to fiddle with our fingers. “What if I’m changing?”
“We all change, all the time. It’s part of being a person.”
His explanation this time was slower. Calmer. More serious. He said it like he needed me to understand. And I knew that the words weren’t only for me. Spencer had often talked about all the different ways he’d changed. It was hard for me to really conceptualize it, having only heard about it after the fact. The man in front of me seemed so… infallible. Needless to say, I wasn’t like that.
“But what if I change too much?”
“Changing doesn’t necessarily mean changing for the worse,” he reminded me, his hand sliding up my arm, struggling not to pull me into the embrace the moment desperately called for. I had to take a minute to appreciate the universe and where it had led me. Because while I sat there, complaining about the things out of my control, I got to get the best advice in the world from my beautiful boyfriend. My wonderful, loving partner who still somehow looked so goddamn attractive even with crushed up, grated almond dust and avocado smeared all over him.
His hand cupping the back of my neck, he locked our eyes when he finally whispered, “I happen to love the person you’ve become since I met you. And I plan on loving whoever you become in the future, too.”
And I believed him. Even in this madness, I saw a light shining at the end of the tunnel, and it looked a lot like Spencer’s company. It felt a lot like his hugs and his hands on mine. I kissed him, our noses slipping in the silliness smudged all over us, and I laughed at the way we could hardly keep our lips connected. It was all too much, too lighthearted and normal and safe.
“You taste like honey,” I murmured against his lips, opening my eyes to look into the hazel ones filled with all the comfort I would need for the time being.
“It’s probably the honey,” he replied cheekily with that clever little grin.
Bringing my hand up to chest, I patted the dirty clothes and crafted the perfect question to end the first of what I was sure would be many more pep talks. For now, though…
“What if… we go clean up so I can kiss you more?” I asked, watching as his eyes scrunched with his smile.
“I like that ‘what if.’”