We sat in deafening silence as we drove past barren mountains and fields peppered in sagebrush. None of us in the truck spoke. We were attempting to slowly digest everything that was going on. 2020 threw yet another monkey wrench at us. I went from being ecstatic to having the Utah house almost completely to myself for a week, to sitting in the passenger seat of the Xterra while Mom drove, trying to figure out what the future held for us. 

At some point, my mom patted me on the shoulder. I'd been listening to hard rock, trying to scatter my anxious thoughts for a few hours. 

“Isn’t it cool that we’re taking your Xterra on such a big adventure?” she asked, smiling. 

“Yeah… I guess.” I shrugged. 

“I’m so glad we took this and not the rav4. The V6 does really well up in the mountains, the four-wheel-drive works really well in the rain and snow, and this truck just has so much room. We wouldn’t have been able to go anywhere if we still had the rav.” Mom rambled, “You made an excellent choice, Maya. Good job!”

“Thanks.” I mumbled.

I knew my mom was just trying to peel our minds away from our current reality. I commend her for her attempts, but as much as I loved talking about trucks, it wasn’t helping much. My mom could tell I was failing to hold back tears, especially when I turned my head to hide a few tears from her.

“We’ll be okay, honey.” Mom sighed, “I know it’s scary, but we’ll survive just fine. Remember what your doctors said?”

I nodded, then sniffled as tears streamed down my face. 

“Just remember that. Even if we have covid, it won’t be worse than a cold. CJ is just fine right now. She just has a runny nose. If CJ can survive this with just a runny nose, then we’ll be just fine too. Don’t worry, Maya. We’re gonna pull through. We’re in this together. You, me, Jack, and the dogs. You are not alone.”

“I...know.” I croaked, “I’m just scared.”

“I know you are.” Mom replied, “But, I’m not. I’m upset we might not be able to see Priscilla or Jen anymore if they test positive and we don’t. But, I’m not afraid. It’s okay to be scared. I understand. But, just know facts aren’t feelings. You feel scared, but you know you’ll be just fine. Again, it won’t be worse than a cold. You’re young and healthy.”

My mom was right, but I was still very emotional for the rest of our drive to our Airbnb in Boise. Our Airbnb hosts usually didn’t allow dogs to stay there. But, when my mom explained our situation to them, our Airbnb hosts not only told us it was perfectly okay for us to bring the dogs, they bought us a few groceries as well so we didn’t have to go anywhere and risk spreading the disease to others. 

It was pretty late when we arrived at our Airbnb for the night. I offered to pull an all-nighter to watch the dogs so Mom could sleep. I could sleep in the truck on the way to Washington while my mom drove. I was also too anxious to go to sleep. I spent most of the night alternating between pacing around the house from anxiety, and playing World of Warcraft on my laptop while the dogs slept at my feet. I felt like I was living in a nightmare. I was just waiting for my alarm to go off or for Penny to jump on my face, saving me from this horrible, vivid nightmare. Instead, being the clumsy person I’ve always been, I split my toes against a doorframe while I was walking out of the bathroom. The sharp pain reminded me that I was not dreaming. What I was going through was, very unfortunately, real life. 

Right at the crack of dawn, I heard my mom’s feet hit the floor above me. About twenty minutes later, she came downstairs brushing her wet hair, almost ready to go. 

“You’ve got everything packed up?” Mom asked. 

“Yes. Everything except my laptop.” I replied as I exited World of Warcraft. 

I slipped my laptop into my backpack, checked my pockets to make sure I had everything I carried with me, then began to count all seventeen of my morning medications, which I took in one handful with a large glass of milk. I refused to eat or drink anything else until we got to our Airbnb in Washington, so I never had the urge to go to the bathroom. There was no way in hell any of us were gonna go inside any gas station. We’d only stop at the pump when my gas guzzler needed it. 

We were on the road once again around seven in the morning. I was tired, but not tired enough to sleep. It wasn’t long before my anxiety spiked again, especially when I began to sniffle a little bit. I had forgotten to take my allergy medication the night before. But, my brain instantly went to the possibility of having covid-19. For almost an hour, I sat still and silent as I catastrophized everything in my mind. I could’ve easily opened up to my mom about what I was thinking. She would’ve understood my problems and knew what to say to calm me down. But, for some dumb reason, I thought it would be better if I suffered silently and alone, allowing the emotions to build up until I couldn’t hold them back anymore. 

I finally burst into tears, and for a moment, my mom glanced at me like I was crazy. She soon figured out what was wrong. She knew, just by the panicked look in my eyes, that I was terrified. And, rightfully so. Ever since the pandemic began, my biggest fear was somehow contracting covid-19. I spent so much time and energy obsessing over it so I knew how to protect myself against it. I made so many sacrifices to protect myself from it. I spent the vast majority of my year indoors, playing video games until my eyes felt like they were melting out of their sockets, sleeping the days away, and oftentimes just sitting on the couch mindlessly staring into space. Yet, for some horrible reason, I got exposed to the virus, and there was a very good chance I now had it. 

I can’t say I was surprised. I’ve always had a knack of winning the shittiest lotteries ever. But, that didn’t help me cope with the crushing pain of getting covid-19 after all I’d done to stay safe from it. I was defeated. I was terrified. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was just broken. 

My mom let me cry my eyeballs out for several hours. She knew I just needed to let it all out in the safety and isolation of the Xterra. To be honest, it felt good to cry. I’d bottled up my emotions for most of the year, trying my absolute hardest to smile in the depths of hell. But, the dam had to break at some point. I’m just glad the dam broke while I was in the Xterra with just my mom and little brother in the middle of nowhere, than in Utah in front of our friends, or at my grandparents’ house where my grandparents would have no idea what to do with me. At least my mom understood exactly where I was coming from, and knew it was best to just let me get all of my emotions out of my system. 

By the time we made it to our Airbnb in Washington, I’d stopped crying. But, I felt awful. I was sleep deprived, nauseous because I hadn’t eaten in over a day, and emotionally a total wreck. My mom figured it was best to give the dogs to a friend for the week so I didn't have to worry about them. While she and my little brother left to drop off the dogs, I let myself into our new home for the next seven days and headed straight for the shower. A long, steamy shower was just what I needed to get my shit together so I could fall asleep.