A Request in the Time of Quarantine

Mrs. Sander’s AP English Classroom:

Today’s Online Writing Prompt (Day 13 of quarantine) - What important lessons can we learn from quarantine/isolation?

Student Response from Nate Goodman:

Thirteen days have changed my life. I know you set up this assignment to help us focus on what good things we might discover during this time, but I have nothing to report on that front. Just in case you don’t have time to read this whole response, I am typing the most important part here. PLEASE COME TO MY HOUSE AND RETRIEVE MY HEN, MARIBEL. SHE NEEDS A NEW HOME, AND I AM HOPING YOU CAN PROVIDE THAT ON YOUR FARM.

I’ve seen the news reports showing goodness abounding during this time. I have been happy to see that much of the world’s experiences are not what I have witnessed. But perhaps that is not surprising since I didn’t have the foundation upon which to build happy family moments in the first place.

My family is often without toilet paper. Not because the shelves are now empty, but because my mother’s god is whatever bottle of alcohol is closest to her, and she can’t be bothered to remember the basic necessities. You’ve maybe seen the posts about using the fast-food napkins stored in the glovebox during these times? I knew their usefulness beforehand.

My brother, Richard, has been back home for the past three months. The latest in a seemingly never-ending line of jobs didn’t pan out. So this should have been a good time to catch up, right? If you met my brother, you’d quickly figure out the answer. Richard’s lips are raised in a permanent snarl. In his mind, the world has ignored him, shamed him, and not given him what he deserved. He’ll tell you this within the first few moments of meeting him. People like my brother are the very worst people to have around in times of distress because they only look out for themselves. Everyone else is only an accessory to whatever fleeting happiness they seek at the moment.

I’ve been watching Richard closely, while he keeps his eyes on Mr. Grady, who lives just a little way down the road. Mr. Grady, who keeps a store of pills to treat his elderly conditions. Richard knows this, and I know how much he’d love to get his hands on them. Sell them for some extra money since now any potential jobs are halted. “Might as well go over and smother that old man with his pillow one night. Put him out of his misery,” Richard said.

Maybe, Mrs. Sander, you think Richard was just talking. I know better.

Today is Richard’s birthday. As you know, fresh meat has been hard to find, but a couple of days ago Richard decided his greatest desire for his celebration was to have a chicken dinner. He set his eyes on Maribel, the hen I had raised for Mr. Davis’s agriculture class last year. Maribel has long been my friend. When my mom is stumbling around the house, cursing her existence, as well as mine, I go out and talk to Maribel. I’m thinking you might have chickens already on your farm, Mrs. Sander. Have you ever noticed how they cock their little heads and look you right in the eye when you’re speaking, especially the hens? Sadly, Maribel has been my main maternal presence at home for quite some time. Most days, I don’t see my human mother.

Richard was going to kill Maribel to satisfy his own selfish cravings. “I’ll do it at night,” he had said. “So you won’t even know it’s happening.” But I was going to stop him. I knew where he kept his gun.

I keep Maribel in a small shed out back at night, to protect her from predators. I hid myself back in the corner last night and listened to Maribel’s warm, soft cluckings.

Right around midnight, Richard entered. He stopped when he saw me standing with the gun pointed toward him. Then he grinned. He stepped toward me and grabbed for the gun, which was pointed at his chest. I instinctively moved my arms upward at the same time I felt his hand encircle my wrist.

I pulled the trigger. I’d like to say it was accidentally, Mrs. Sander, but I can’t say for sure. I was afraid; Richard had his hands on me. This made me point the gun toward his face, but did anything physical actually force me to pull the trigger? I probably shouldn’t put that in writing, but honesty propels me even now.

Richard is dead, and I’m calling the police soon. I’m guessing no one paid attention to the gunshot or someone would have already been here. I just wanted to make sure Maribel will be safe.

I hope the police will listen to my story. Maybe you can speak for me too, Mrs. Sander. I think you thought I had a real future ahead of me. I plan to tell them the whole history with Richard, all the time I have spent monitoring him, protecting myself and trying to protect those around me. We worry unceasingly about those infected with the virus; we should be equally concerned with those corrupted by selfishness. They can just as easily be death’s harbingers.