"What Would Sidewalk Boy Do?"
Submitted by Tyler Phan
The virus shut down schools as the fear of fatherhood grew in my belly. Minnesota’s sun shone like a pale cupcake beyond the sliding glass. A droning call beckoned us outside.
My wife and I crept like guilty toddlers. We pulled on spring coats from the closet abyss. Plodded down the sidewalk.
“The exact opposite of Phnom Penh,” I said, noting the emptiness.
She pointed out a littered potato chip bag. People are the same all over.
The only other human we saw was a boy about six. He squatted in front of a house a block or two behind our apartment building’s yard full of dirty diapers and gas station drink cans.
“Look at this,” he said, both to us and no one in particular.
I put on my dad-in-training voice. “Woah, what is it?”
My wife itches to become a mother. She fears her organs are already shutting down at 30. Her own mother gave birth at 50. But she still worries.
Back in Cambodia, her niece had a second child. Her sister-in-law is pregnant with number three. Here, three of my cousins are pregnant, two for the second time within a few years.
We joked about birth rates. About baby names like Quarantina, Clorox, and Ka’Rona.
“It’s an evil monster,” Sidewalk Boy laughed, pointing to a chalk portrait in front of his stoop. Jagged orange lines brought the cracked cement to life. Gnashing teeth and bulbous eyes were held captive on a disfigured face. It was more real to Sidewalk Boy than disease, death, collapse, or anything else.
“It’s scary, run away,” I said, with mock terror.
We continued on our walk and Sidewalk Boy smirked to his backyard.
I told my wife about Elon Musk and Grimes’ new baby named X Æ A-Xii. America has become a parody of itself. In Cambodia, they give names like “Little Girl,” “Diamond Boy,” or “August.”
At home, we video- chatted with my mom. She had a spreadsheet. Each of her five siblings had duties to bring groceries to my grandparents.
If we have a daughter her middle name can be Kathryn. Because of grandma. But first names must start with “t.” That way, we’ll all match.
We woke up at midnight. The family above us was pounding again. They have three kids who don’t sleep until late in the night. I smacked on the ceiling with a boot.
I joked with my wife about not wanting to bring a child into a world like this. We smiled and pulled up Zillow on my phone. I had a list going. Cheap houses for sale with enough room for a family of four.
In our second installation of “Living Through Science Fiction: True Stories from the COVID-19 Crisis”, Planet Scumm tackles the feeling of isolation that runs through day-to-day existence.