Allergic to Love: The Inhaler Switch
Bodhi Leaves
The day my husband's first love shows up at my house, I catch a faint, cloyingly sweet scent of gardenias in the air.
My genetically-linked asthma flares violently at the scent of gardenias.
As expected, halfway through the meal, my chest suddenly tightens. I can barely draw a breath before collapsing onto the couch.
My younger brother sprints into my bedroom like he's lost his mind, grabs an inhaler, and shoves it straight to my mouth.
"Tess!" he roars. "Why the hell is there gardenia perfume?"
Everyone panics.
My dad grabs a liquor bottle. My mom lunges forward, grabbing the woman by the hair. And my husband positions himself in front of her, protecting his beloved first love as she trembles.
Amid the chaos, I muster the last of my strength. I reach into the crack of the couch, grab another inhaler, take a deep breath, and slowly push myself upright.
I let out a cold laugh as I fix my gaze on the woman cowering behind my husband. "Finished with your little performance? It's my turn now."