AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Same here,” I reply.
“Thank y’all so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate it,” Tess says as she wraps Hannah in a tight hug. Her eyes close as she wraps her arms around her friend and squeezes her back. I wish Hannah would hug me like that. What makes Tess so special that she gets hugs? Sure, they’re best girlfriends, but Hannah and I are friends too… What does a guy have to do to get a hug? Probably be in a committed relationship with the woman they want the hug from, and I’m working on that as we speak. I flip the lights on and gather up my phone, wallet, and keys.
“I was happy to do it,” Hannah says. She turns around from Tess and looks me in the eye for the first time since she woke up. Her eyes grow round.
“Oh my gosh, Seth. What’s wrong with your face?” Tess asks. Now that she mentions it, it starts itching again. I give it a scratch, and ten more spots itch and burn.
“I don’t know, but it has been driving me crazy.”
“And you didn’t think to go look in the mirror?” Tess laughs.
“Not really, I had a person sleeping on me,” I reply.
“Oh no. You must be having an allergic reaction from the face mask,” Hannah says.
“You got Seth to do a face mask?” Tess asks, bouncing around excitedly. “Please tell me you have photographic evidence of this!” Hannah pulls out her phone and opens up the picture she posted of us on her social media. They both start giggling like my face isn’t burning off over here.
“Ladies, I hate to ruin your fun, but I’m having a medical emergency!” They both look up at me with sheepish looks on their faces. Hannah shoves her phone back in her pocket.
“Do you have Benadryl at home? That should fix you right up,” Hannah says.
“No, the only thing I have at home is ibuprofen and maybe some old cold meds,” I say while scratching.
Hannah grabs my wrist to stop me and asks, “Why didn’t you say something about it?” I watch her eyes scan my face. “You’ll have to go get something for it, or you’ll blow up like a balloon.”
“Hannanah, I cannot go in the store looking like this,” I say, gesturing to my face.
“Seth, it’s not that bad,” she laughs. I’m not finding this as funny as she apparently is. I give her the most pitiful face I can muster, and she rolls her eyes. It must work, though, because she says, “Fine. I’ll go with you.”
Thank goodness. I did not want to go in there by myself like this. I’m a grown man, but I’m not so grown that I can’t admit when I need someone to hold my hand and give me some confidence.
We drive to the store in our separate cars and walk in together. Hannah takes one look at my face and says, “Hmm…” That’s it. Just, hmm. And then she keeps walking like that little hmm didn’t just give me crippling anxiety.
“Hannanah, you can’t do that to me,” I say as I follow behind her to the back of the store where the medicines are lined up neatly on the shelves. She’s haphazardly picking up boxes of allergy meds and looking at the ingredients.
“Do what? I didn’t do anything,” she says. She places a box back onto the shelf and then picks up a tube of some kind of cream, studying the tiny words closely.
“You can’t look at someone’s face and go, ‘Hmm,’ and then give no explanation.”
“Is your face feeling itchier?” she asks. She scrunches her mouth to the side as she studies my face. Now that she mentions it, I can’t help but scratch some more. Is it getting worse? Am I really going to blow up like a balloon? Am I going into anaphylactic shock? Do I need an EpiPen? Wait, no. I can breathe fine. Okay, I’m not going to die. But why is she scrutinizing my face like that?
“You’re making me nervous,” I say. She laughs and grabs an oral antihistamine and a cream that should help it stop itching. I inspect the ingredients and dosages before approving her choice. We take it to the counter to pay, and other late-night customers give me a wide berth when they see me. Have they never seen an allergic reaction before? It’s not some communicable disease. I’m not a leper.
“You okay, sweetie pie?” the older woman working the register asks after she gets a good, long look at my face. I’ve refrained from looking in the mirror, but now I’m really beginning to wonder what I look like.
Hannah waves a hand and says, “Oh, he’s fine.”
“Excuse me, I am not fine! My face feels like there are thousands of fire ants crawling and biting all over it. I’m in agony,” I practically yell in the middle of the drugstore. Several heads turn to watch us.
“You poor thing,” the lady says, and it feels nice that someone has some pity for me. I’m a little offended that Hannah thinks I’m perfectly fine. How would she feel if it were her face? Not so great, I’d imagine.
“Okay, come on, you big baby,” Hannah says. She grabs the bag from the counter and drags me outside by my arm. “Take the Benadryl when you get home, and use a little bit of the cream. You should feel better in the morning,” she says, as if I don’t know what to do.
She plops the bag into my hands, but I suddenly feel very inadequate. I wonder if I should wash my face before using the cream. Or will that just irritate my face more? I pull the tube from the bag and look at the directions. There’s nothing about whether or not to wash your face. It just says to use ‘a pea-sized amount.’
“Exactly how much is considered a pea-sized amount? Like, what kind of peas are we talking about here, because that could drastically change the dosage,” I ask Hannah. Maybe she’s a little justified in her assumption that I need instructions.
“You’re helpless,” she sighs.
