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TWENTY-TWO

MARA

NOVEMBER

I’m a lot of things. A mom. A divorcée. A person with a chronic illness or twelve. A little flighty in a way that could probably be diagnosed, but I was tired of my “collect-them-all!” diagnosis record.

But what I’m not is good at math, or good at calculating when a food that isn’t worth it is going to set me into a bad episode.

My body chemistry fluctuates so much on a daily basis, every day a gamble of the chemical stew.

Being a grocery buyer affords you certain privileges. Companies are constantly kissing your ass and sending free samples, so my office was more of a desk with two chairs and a series of shelves around it, completely jam-packed with boxes of samples of everything from nut assortments to granola bars to fresh juice pouches (which don’t even make sense, but someone tried it).

On this day, I had tomato-based Indian food for lunch, which while absolutely delicious and typically worth it, tended to send my body into overdrive. I’d say I knew better, but under the right circumstances, I tolerated it decently with just a little joint pain the next day.

It was so, so tasty and comforting after a stressful shitty week, just what I needed after Bryce pissed me off and my pain was turned up.

I thought I was in the clear with my system’s pain overreaction, but it was less than an hour before my body’s dashboard lights started going off. Heartburn, joint pain, sluggishness, and being so tired I could have laid my head down on my desk. I wasn’t going to make it through the workday.

Sometimes eating something else and giving my body something else to do with its time helps. I grabbed a packet of nuts, thinking it was almonds. I opened the package and fished out a few nuts. There were almonds, yes, but also pecans and walnuts, which can be a real risk for me.

Still, if I just avoided the problem nuts, I’d probably be fine. I’d never had a problem with cross-contamination reactions in the past. And right at that moment, Kai from our main office appeared in my doorway.

“Hey, Kai!” I said, my voice sounding unusual. I cleared my throat and tried again, pressing my fist to my chest. “Hey. What brings you over here?”

With a wince and a grimace, Kai stepped inside my office and closed the door. His eyes darted all over the office. The vibe was off. Kai was usually super jovial with me, once even getting a drink with me and spilling out how much April annoys him.

He gulped, and I did too. “How have you been?” he squeaked.

“Okay. You?” I gave him a skeptical look. “What’s going on?”

“Mara, I wish I didn’t have to do this.”

My already tight throat felt tighter. I pushed another nut in my mouth, quickly spitting it out into the trash can under my desk because it was a walnut. I took a big gulp of water, which took a second to get down. “Sorry. What’s happening?”

“Mara . . .” His eyes glazed over. “We have to let you go.”

“What?” I whispered.

“Having your kids here, it’s . . . it’s a liability and April . . . you have to understand this wasn’t my decision.”

“Okay.” I nodded and went to swallow again. “I’ll just get my things I guess.”

“Can I help you?” Kai asked. His shock of shiny black hair bounced as he stood, starting to clear out a box for my things.

“I’ve got it,” I mumbled.

“I actually have to help you,” Kai stumbled over his words, “leave.”

“Security threat. Got it.”

I didn’t keep much at my desk. I had to have all my medicines in travel form anyway, so those stayed in my purse. Kai had the nerve to burst into tears when I picked up the picture of Aspen and Hazel from when Hazel was born. I gave him a glare before putting it in the box.

“Sorry. It’s just . . . I can’t even say it or I’ll get in trouble.”

I liked Kai. Kai was nice. Kai really did have a tender heart. But I wasn’t in the mood to be responsible for his emotions when he was the one who just fired me. His guilt was not my problem. I’m sure firing people isn’t fun, but I couldn’t worry about that. I had to worry about the kids in the picture that just made him cry.

I signed a paper at his request and on wooden legs, I took one last look around my office.

“Take any samples you want,” he said.

I just shook my head and together, we took the stairs to leave the store. He tried to give me a hug at my car, but I refused him by holding up my hands.

“You’ll land on your feet, Mara,” he said, then squinted at me. “Hey, your skin is really splotchy. Are you okay?”

I sucked in a ragged breath. “Of course I’m not okay, Kai! I just got fired from my job where I am the only person supporting my two children!”

I got in my car and barely waited for him to move before backing out and leaving for good.

Fuck. This was not in the plans. My arms started to itch, and when I scratched, it left raised red marks. Dermatographia: something that sometimes happened when my body was reacting.

I was already at risk of a reaction before I got fired, and adding that stress wasn’t helping. I rushed to unwrap an antihistamine at a red light, the meltaway kind I could put under my tongue.

Please work. Please work. I can’t go to the hospital today. Maybe it’s just a panic attack.

I swallowed repeatedly, trying to get the lumpy feeling out of my throat. My pulse was so fast yet so faint.

My throat felt even tighter, so I popped another antihistamine.

Maybe I just needed to meditate and take some calming breaths. I pulled into a random parking lot about five minutes from home, set a timer for two minutes, closed my eyes, and breathed as deeply as I could.

That didn’t feel very deep anymore.

I tried singing in the car to test my voice as I got back on the road and I sounded like a duck.

This was really not good.

I just needed to get home to my blood pressure cuff to see if this was a bonafide reaction, or just a bad day with the chemical stew plus some stress. I know now they’re pretty much one and the same, but on this day, I was still rolling the dice.

With good reason. Using my EpiPen meant a trip to the hospital, and I didn’t want to stir up all the drama over nothing. The day had been dramatic enough, after all. It still didn’t feel real.

Some people can take one dose of epinephrine and stay home if they feel better. My doctor had already warned me that I was not that person. Could I crush up and snort a Benadryl? Would that work?

My vision started going cloudy when I pulled up to my apartment building. Aspen was still at school, Hazel at daycare. That was probably enough time to take a Benadryl and wait it out. That had worked before. I didn’t get as affected by the drowsiness if I just didn’t let myself go to sleep in the first place. I’d be able to drive to pick them up, right?

By the time I crawled up the steps to our apartment, my heart raced and I panted, sucking in breaths that were increasingly hard to come by. I couldn’t remember whether it was fall or spring, much less what year it was. I knew something bad had happened to me a little bit before but I couldn’t remember what it was.

I was starting to not be able to breathe at all.

I didn’t know whether it was worse that I was alone, or better that I didn’t have to deal with the kids. They were in the care of adults. They were safe.

I was not.

If I took the Epi, someone had to look after the kids. I vaguely remembered Gabi having some kind of appointment that made her leave work early some day this week, or was that last week?

I tried calling her, but realized I wouldn’t be able to talk. It went to voicemail anyway.

I was out of options. It was time to Epi.

I shuffled around in my purse and unearthed the life-saving pen. I drew as deep a breath as I could and slammed it into my leg, the pain immediate. I’m not sure how I remembered to wait for the click, leave it in three seconds, and rub the area, but I did.

And while I did, I called Jack. He’d be authorized to pick up the kids, and I knew he was back in town.

I sucked air through my congested nose, then my mouth. I felt like it was all about to end.

“Hey,” he answered. Then he must have heard my breathing. “Mara?”

“Jackie,” I wheezed, starting to crumble.

“Mara, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

“Home. On the steps.”

“Do you need help?”

I coughed and gasped, and he got the picture.

“Holy shit. Oh shit. Fuck. Okay.” A horn blared and tires squealed in the background. “I’m on my way. I’m pretty close. Can you hang up with me and call 911?”

My lungs started to work again. It was just a matter of whether or not I could make it without needing the next dose. It could go one of three ways. The first dose would do enough, and I could make it without any further medicine. I’d just be there for observation. Option two was I’d need the second dose in the next five to ten minutes from a quick rebound. And option three was needing more epi an hour or more later.

“Mara? Just hang on, okay?”

“I’m going to go call,” I said.

“I’ll see you in a minute, sweetheart. Hang on.”

The epinephrine was flowing. I could function, but I didn’t know how much time I had. I had a very calm discussion with the 911 operator. She said help was on the way, and I heard a distant siren.

A car horn blared around the block, and then Jack’s black SUV was pulling into my apartment’s lot. He jumped out and ran, not even shutting the driver’s door. He bounded up the stairs, his eyes wild.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Jack knelt on the step in front of me and put his hands on my biceps. “What’s going on?”

“Reaction,” I said, still getting caught up on my breathing. Or were my airways starting to narrow again?

“I’m going with you,” he said. “What can I get from inside the house?”

I shook my head. “Jack, just take care of the kids. I’ll send you Gabi’s number,” I panted. My brain registered his outfit. He was in a suit again, so he must have been doing something with work. “You have a game. Just have her help. I couldn’t get her before.”

My lungs felt oxygen-starved from all that and my eyes floated shut. My head lolled forward onto his shoulder. I wanted to grip him but I couldn’t find it in me.

“Mara?” Jack was so stern, it felt like he was yelling at me. I couldn’t even think about that.

“I need,” I heaved a breath, “a second dose.”

Was this it? Was I going to die with some man who’d never love me in front of me? I had the vague thought that if this was the time I was going to die, maybe I should say “I love you” just so my last living words would be nice.

I didn’t love Jack, but it seemed like a nice thing to say. Better than saying something like “you’re such a dickhead” right before I die. All that thinking must have dazed me out because he took over looking through my purse.

“I got it, baby. Hang on,” he said under his breath. He pulled the pen out. “Want me to do it or you?”

With a weak grip, I took it from his hand, yanked the cap off with my teeth, and then hesitated. Jack’s eyes went determined as he took it back from me and slammed it into my leg. I writhed, the pain in my thigh shocking.

“Sorry, sweetheart. So sorry.” His eyes scanned over me. “Those things really hurt?”

I nodded and he laughed, shaking his head. “Badass.”

Jack sat on the step next to me and put an arm around my shoulders. His beard brushed my temple as he kissed me there. “Just breathe.”

“I’m,” I pulled in some air, “trying.”

The sirens got closer. “Keep trying, baby. They’re almost here.”

The next few minutes were a blur. Jack insisted he was coming with me. The EMTs got my ID and insurance card. I told Jack to take care of the kids.

But what stands out the most was Jack, eyes welling, hand pressed over his mouth as the ambulance doors shut, leaving him outside.