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“Allergic.” I step away from the flowers and point to the offending lacey piece of shit. My face is beginning to itch, and my hand has raised bumps. My mouth is starting to resemble a carp, and he looks panicked.
He is panicked. “Hospital?! Do you need a hospital? Was it the flowers?”
“You can go.” I need to be alone. He can’t see me turn into a mottled strawberry. My lips are stinging and the welts on my hand are spreading. I can feel them. “The white ones. Not standard in winter. I have to get to a drug store.” I turn, and he pulls me back. And realizes he probably has the offending piece of shit fake flower all over him. “Now.”
He pulls out his phone and points down the block. “Duane Reed is around the corner. Come on.”
I protest, “No, you don’t have to. I’m so gross right now.”
He stops in front of me, careful not to touch me. “Stop it. You’re still gorgeous even when you resemble a lychee.” I groan. This can’t be happening. “Come on, Hives. That can be your pet name, Hives.” I try to smile but can’t close my mouth. And here comes the drool.
He leads the way, and I try to keep up with one eye now shut, my wobbly uneven heels, and drool sliding involuntarily down the left side of my face, like I’ve been numbed with novocaine.
“Waith.” Oh fuck. Now my tongue has joined this carousel of pain and humiliation. He doesn’t hear me. “WAITH. WAITH. Mya heelz ith too unebenen.”
He turns around. “Did you just say—holy shit, SABRINA!” He doesn’t hesitate; he scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder in a fireman carry. My ass cheek is bouncing in his face cheek, and all the blood is rushing to my scratchy, bumpy, and swollen face. He’s in an all-out run. For the second time in a couple of hours, the man is carrying me. He’s strong. I mean, like surprisingly strong. He bursts through the doors.
“EpiPen now!!! I’ll pay whatever the cost. Now!”
I smack his back, and he puts me down on my unstable feet. I move out of the way as a twenty-year-old terrified drug store employee lunges at me with a needle. I put a hand up and shake my head no. “Noth. Dought. Waith!” I manage to say.
He says, “Slow your roll there, drugstore cowboy.” The kid flumps onto the floor. I leave them. I’m on a mission.
I wobble down the aisle, rip open a bottle of kids’ liquid Benadryl, and start chugging. I’m probably going to be kiddie high any minute, but at least I won’t look like I went toe to toe with a fucking beehive. I slide down to the floor, and he crouches in front of me. I can feel the medicine working its fairy-dust magic to transform me back to me, instead of the Swamp Thing.
“Dwo not wet me dink endyting.” He grins and leans against the family planning section. He reaches up and tosses me a box of condoms. I smile as best I can. “Sdill? Yood till tuck me?”
He laughs very hard, then says, “I’m so relieved. And I can’t wait to tuck you all night. I can’t wait to tuck you until you can’t take anymore tucking. My dick is down to tuck.” My lips are still a touch like Lisa Rinna’s lips, but they’re starting to feel like my own.
He smiles and gestures for my bottle of Benadryl. “Come on, let me have a swig.” I pull my mouth into a grimace of sorts.
He jumps to his feet and pulls me up. He turns on his heels, and I follow him as he heads to the cleaning section. He opens a pack of baby wipes and Clorox wipes. He wipes down his hands, his coat, and my jacket. He throws away his remaining glove, then disappears. He comes back with makeup remover and nail scissors. He bends down and cuts the bulk of his glove off my shoe, then stands and wipes his whole face with a wipe. Then he gently wipes off my cheeks and lips. He’s careful around the eye area. I’m sure my mascara is streaking down my cheeks.
“There you are.” He kisses me ever so slightly. It’s tingly and perfect.
“Thank you. I have trouble swallowing pills. I usually carry around a bottle of the kid stuff in the summer but I never imagined I’d need it now.”
“Are you sure you’re ok?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Thank you. I’ll be red for a while.” He holds me and gets close.
“Your tongue seems back to normal. Shall we test it out?” I grin and nod. He slides his tongue against mine. I know he can taste the synthetic grape of the children’s medicine. It’s soft at first, just teasing, then our tongues find their rhythm. I want to be horizontal with this man very soon. His phone buzzes again.
“I should probably look at that.” He glances down. “Fuck.”
“Is everything ok?”
“We missed our table and we’re never welcome there again. Good thing Manhattan is full of restaurants because I’m plowing through them tonight.”
“I’m starving,” I whine.
“Come on, I’m going to get you fed. I promise. And then, whether you like it or not, I’m going to need to see those breasts. They’ve been bottled up in that coat for so long tonight. I worry they don’t know how much I’m going to appreciate them. They’re in the dark without my mouth to gratify them.”
I smile. “They really do need some air—it’s kind of you to consider them.”
He starts collecting our various open packages, leaving the used things on the ground in a discarded plastic bag. “I’m an empath. I sense even the slightest bit of suffering.” He puts his hand on my back and guides me towards the counter.
He reaches for his wallet. “FUCK. My credit card.”
