Page 85 of You Again

“Uh—”

“Hello!”

“Hey,” she says. “What are your thoughts on carnations?”

“FRAN! Zev is having an allergic reaction, and urgent care is closed.”

“Zev?” she says, her tone cautious.

“Uh—hi, I am here. And indeed swelling like a hot air balloon.”

“Whoa,” Fran says. “Does he need the emergency room?”

But before I can answer, Zev sets a hand on my shoulder. “Jus meds.”

“Benadryl,” Fran says. “Liquid. Callum had a reaction to something last summer when we went camping and his mom told me to give him liquid Benadryl. It’ll say it’s for kids, but give him a double dose. It’ll work faster.”

“Liquid. Got it. Thanks, Fran.” I am a smart, capable woman who was searching her cupboards for Benadryl not all that long ago—why did I abandon the plan so quick? Oh right, because Zev suddenly resembles a very lumpy Mr. Potato Head who can’t pronounce all of his letters.

I back out of the useless urgent care parking lot and head to Walgreens, just two blocks away.

One look at Zev and my stomach rolls. “You better come in with me.” I snatch a hold of his hand and speed walk him into the store and through the aisles.

“Benadryl?” I call to the one clerk we pass.

“Aisle nine,” she says, eyes on Zev. I get it. He’s not exactly his handsome self at the moment.

I find little pink Benadryl pills and run my finger down the shelf to the liquid children’s edition. I rip that box open in the middle of aisle nine. My fingers fumble as I remove the little plastic cup with measurements on the side. In my urgency, it slips from my grasp and tumbles beneath the stocked shelves.

I shove the open bottle into Zev’s hands. “Just start drinking,” I say, looking for the dosing directions. “I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Zev surprises me by obeying my every command. I read the directions, but there’s no way for me to tell when he’s chugged twenty milliliters of meds. Besides, Zev is much larger than a ten-year-old. He’s larger than most twenty-year-olds. He may need a triple dose. So, I don’t tell him to stop until the bottle is half empty.

When his face doesn’t magically return to normal, I scoop five more boxes of liquid Benadryl into my arms. “Take another swig,” I command him before walking to the checkout.

The teenage girl behind the counter rings me up, all while staring at Zev. When she’s finished, she doesn’t give me a total, but her brows pinch together. “Are you—are you Zevulun Hayes?”

Zev takes another swig from his Benadryl bottle.

I glance from the girl to Zev before handing her my card.

No one answers her question. Zev sips from his bottle and I pay her, unsure what’s happening. Before we’ve left the building, Zev has officially finished off his first bottle of Benadryl.

“I told you to wait for my directions,” I say, praying I don’t overdose him.

He blinks long, slow blinks. The Benadryl may not have slimmed down his lips, but he’s getting sleepy, that’s for sure. “You dib,” he says, eyes closed, empty Benadryl bottle to his lips. “Sorry.”

I walk him to the car, open his door, and buckle that mountain of a man into his seat again—this time, he does need my help. The man is out of it. His puffed eyes are closed and his head rests against the back of the seat.

Holy moly, I have poisoned the sweetest man I’ve ever met. Once behind the wheel, I pull up my phone and write the strangest question I’ve ever written into my search bar.

If one is having an allergic reaction and one drinks an entire bottle of children’s Benadryl, what should one then do?

The internet tells me to let him sleep it off and also to never ever, ever allow a person to drink an entire bottle of Benadryl. Thanks, Google. That would have been helpful five minutes ago.

“Zev,” I say, making sure he’s still lucid. “Do you know the girl from Walgreens? The one who said your name?”

He breathes out a sleepy sigh and shrugs his shoulders. A raspberry bubbles from his swollen lips.