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.
