Susan E. Lloy
No No Nomophobia
The silence in the house is full on, as if a thousand voices have risen in unison. This is the sense she feels when she enters the home. Yet, truthfully the only thing she hears is the gentle shuffling of little paws sliding along the hardwood floor to greet her as she closes the heavy front door against the noise of exterior traffic. Hello Lester! The pug sneezes and shakes his little backside with such enthusiasm it seems he could almost hover in the air. It’s like poor teeny Lester had been human deprived since the beginning of time itself. She hangs her coat on the last empty hook on the entrance wall. This signifies that the rest of the household is home. Her husband, no doubt, is holed up in his office upstairs. She gives Lester a good scratch before heading into the chasm of the home. She walks through the wide entrance space towards the open kitchen and dining room. Her two kids are here. One sitting on the sofa with his nose buried in his cell, and the other, his sister, sitting on a stool before the kitchen island slowly munching on a pretzel, also unaware of the presence of their mother presently in the room. Her long hair practically conceals her face. It’s only when her mother thumps her hand on the counter before her does she raise her head offering her a sort of half smile.
This is the usual ritual of the home. The stillness. Or some distant yammer upstairs when her husband, Lyndon, is in disagreement with one of his colleague’s. And then there’s faithful Lester. He can always be trusted to make his company known. She runs the water to replenish his water bowl and opens the cupboard to get his dogfood, for dinner is approaching. Even for the family. She lets out a loud shout inquiring what everyone would like for supper, yet nary a word is heard. They are all deep into their phones. On what she doesn’t know. Porn, games, social platforms, music, movies? She has given up on the detective work. The hell with the lot of them and decides on pasta, whether they want it or not. If they can’t make a two-second effort to reply, then the choice is not theirs to be had. She grabs the spaghettini from the drawer and the garlic press, cherry tomatoes and cheese. Her daughter, Valentina, lets out a disappointed sigh. Mom, pasta again? Hey, I asked, and not one of you answered, so this is what you get.
She herself has a cell. As one can’t live without one in this current time. Phone booths no longer exist. But she isn’t addicted to hers and often leaves the house without it when she has errands. When she travels to and from work on public transport the sound of folk talking loud on their phones or listening to some advertisement or music so loud that they force the entire train or bus to partake in their lives–makes her crazy, angry and murderous. She has visions of running amok throughout the subway train sporting a balaclava, snatching phones from people, running the entire gamut of the train like some hardwired Ninja. Not leaving one behind. Perhaps she would have an accomplice. A trusted comrade who shares the same hatred of this involuntary practice.
She lets her mind wander, her desire enriched with each passing moment. A movement could be formed. In every city and country. In villages and one-horse towns. People will stand up and fight for their right for quietude. Not be compelled to absorb unwanted intonations and ado…Her son, Levi, makes a dash for the island grabbing a cherry tomato not looking at his mother, for even a nanosecond. His eyes directed at the image on the screen. He only has eyes for a thin, compact rectangular device and has given up sports to spend more time with this beloved object.
As the water heats on the stove, she wanders the house. Heading upstairs to change out of her work clothes. She is a medical archivist at one of the city hospitals. Her husband, Lyndon, doesn’t look in her direction as she walks by his office. His face is also entombed in a downward pull like some supernatural entity is dragging him into the gadget itself. She considers standing in the doorway naked just to see if he will notice. But he won’t. She has done this on several occasions always with the same result.
Dinner! The table is set with four plates, four glasses, a green salad and a steaming bowl of spaghetti. She pokes her daughter in the arm with a fork as she makes her way to the table with the food. Valentina did not once offer to help her mother or even notice that preparation for their evening meal had begun, busy only with scrolling on her phone. She motions for her daughter to alert her brother. As for her husband, she takes the broom and gives it a hard knock on the ceiling. A series of dents in the white painted plaster are evidence of this ritual.
Each participant sits before their plate with their cellphone off to one side like a special piece of silverware. Isabella has said on countless occasions that she does not want phones at the dinner table. This worked for a very short time, and then they found their way back as if a protein needed to sustain life. Lyndon, how was work today?
He slowly scoops a forkful of pasta into his mouth, mumbling just before it makes its target. Oh, OK. The meeting went well. We got the contract. That’s brilliant Lyndon. Well done. How about you kids? How was school today? Valentina manages to get a few bits out. You know, Mom, the same as every other day. And you Levi?
He is absorbed into the screen and doesn’t utter a single syllable. Levi? When she says his name for the third time, he slowly raises his eyes. What Mom? I said, how was your day? You know, same ol’. Nothing special. Boring as usual.
Isabella tries to enforce household chores in an attempt to meddle with time spent on these contrivances. Valentina–clear the table please. Levi, collect all the garbage in the house and put it out on the street. Collection is tomorrow. And Levi organize the recycling bins too. After that do your homework. Leave your phones here where I can see them. Studies come first. There is considerable grumbling, nevertheless they comply. She knows this is an opportune time to see what they both are up to. Is Levi watching porn? Is Valentia looking for who knows what? But, she can’t do this even though she is curious. It just wouldn’t be right. And if her worries are justified and she called them on it, they would never trust or forgive her, so she lets the phones lie there with their hidden secrets. Her husband is a different matter.
She hears the shower and knows Lyndon is having one. The door of his study is open, but his phone isn’t visible. He may be a litigation lawyer, but he isn’t a workaholic, only doing what’s necessary. Isabella examines the room with the soft light spilling over his desk covered with folders, magazines and newspapers. His desktop computer is off. She can’t fathom that he’s taken it into the shower. He must be looking at pornography. What else could he possibly be doing? Exuberated rumbles escape from the bathroom door and it can’t be from zealous exfoliation. This is getting completely out of hand. Well…let him. What’s the point?
Isabella knows there must be another family meeting. They have one every so often. The last one was regarding this very same subject along with unrespected curfews, playing hooky and general disrespect in the household. Overlooked chores and bad attitudes when called out on phone abuse. The overuse of cellphones in the home has become a sore point, creating a topic none of them, including Lyndon, wants to address. She knows she has no control what each of them do once they exit this place, but at least while they are all living under the same roof, there must be change.
Before the meeting is called there must be a manageable agenda. Certain times in the evening cellphones will be allowed. However, no morning use. On weekends there will be only two hours where phones will be permitted. Activities such as game night, a film, exercise activities like a hike or a country outing will be implemented. How she will get her husband to submit is a different story. She must convince him that he must set an example. This entire avoidance of interaction withing the family unit has become a curse. This applies to the world outside as we now know it. If she can’t fix the problem in her own household then life as it is–is just a standoff. She’ll head to the woods and live alone with the animals and stars. Build a little shack by a stream and hope for the best… She thinks about these things often. Maybe Valentina and her could do some mother-daughter activities together. Book club, yoga, learning to knit, culinary classes? There is a longing for tactile endeavours and cerebral toning. Perhaps Levi will revisit physical activities.
She doesn’t warn Lyndon of the meeting. She will spring it on them all at once.
It’s Saturday and she’s making their favourite for dinner. Macaroni and cheese with Ceasar Salad, homemade cheese bread croutons and a tangy lemon tart topped with whipped cream. It’s the usual vibe in the home. Lyndon is upstairs doing who knows what? Valentina and Levi are slumped in the living room on their phones. Once in a while a laugh is heard. Occasionally a head elevates to take in the aroma of the baking macaroni. Once, to her surprise, Levi says, Mom it smells so good. She must win them to her side. Perhaps this meal will sway them.
When they sit down to eat, cellphones are scattered on the table. I want those phones removed from here. This is a place of conversing and spending time together. No contraptions permitted. Levi and Valentina move them into the living room. Lyndon raises his eyebrows as if he is about to ask a question, but also lies his phone next to the kids. Thank you, Isabella, this looks delicious, as Lyndon puts a steaming pile of pasta on his plate. Plates spin around with heaps of macaroni and cheese piled upon each. Now everyone. I have a proposition, no more of a demand. I want some changes in this house. The amount of time spent on cellphones is disturbing. It’s like all of you can’t live without them. I have thought about this for some time now and this is what I propose. As she lays out the schedule, groans and protests erupt. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, still let’s try it for a month. That isn’t asking a lot, is it? They finish the meal in utter silence and when the table is being cleared, she sees all of them going for their phones. No. No I said. What did we just discuss?
Lyndon retrieves his. After all, she can’t enforce him. He can always use the excuse that it is required for work. But the kids… That is a different matter. Valentina retreats to her bedroom and Levi grovels on the sofa surfing through channels with the remote. He finally settles on a movie and she lets out a sigh of relief. It seems she has won this stage of the battle. After she has loaded the dishwasher, she settles in beside him to watch the film, but he gets up furiously making a beeline for his room. Well, let them stew. There is always an adjustment period.
The following weeks are much the same. Isabella makes Levi and Valentina stick with the cell utilization schedule. However, the atmosphere in the household is miserable. The only constant is Lester. He can always be counted on. A devoted compact bundle. By month’s end Isabella can’t bear it any longer. The strict rules of the house have prevailed, but it has become a home where communication had deteriorated to a nonverbal family. Only Lyndon commented on a meal or inquired about the kids lives. How the hell should I know? They certainly don’t speak with me.
Isabella decides to let things be as they were. OK, kids you can have use of your phones with no limits. But this experiment has shown you that you are capable of living without them. Right? Yeah, so what Mom? It’s just more humdrum without them. More words are again spoken even if they are grunts and barely formed sentences.
She begins to fantasize again about hijacking the phones. Maybe she will get that mask and puff herself out with a disguise. Barge into the home full of speed and conviction. She’ll tote a pillowcase and grab the phones in one swift sweep. Levi and Valentina will be frozen in shock with mouths open, worried for their very lives. Lyndon will be upstairs or still at work, and Lester will hide under the coffee table barking his wee heart out trying to be brave. And before a thing can be done, she will be out the door. Disappearing down the street… Ok everyone, dinner in five! AQ