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My tongue itches from the frozen yogurt or from drinking cold water. In Canada, my fingers begin to swell as I peel a cold cucumber over the garbage can. I’m not so sure if grief is a thing that connects people, or if it’s more like a glass wall that puts you in different rooms.įor the rest of the week, I avoid his mother’s eye. Later, Matt tells me that his mother lost a sibling when she was young, too, that we are connected to each other in this important way, but I’m not so sure.

“It just makes no sense,” my mother will say, for what seems like the rest of her life. We do not understand if he did it on purpose or if it was nobody’s fault at all. We do not understand why he did not apply any brakes before he hit the tree. We do not understand why he swerved into the tree. We do not understand what caused the accident or why Mike was going so fast. Blunt head trauma after he sped 70 miles per hour on a back road in Connecticut into a tree. “Do you have any other siblings besides Gregg?” Matt’s mother asks. He sits in the bathroom and says, “Mom? Dad? Somebody?” until somebody comes in and wipes, and everyone laughs. So I distract myself by telling stories about my brother Gregg’s four-year-old son, who refuses to wipe his own butt.

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I’m not sure how to scratch a tongue in front of Matt’s family without looking strange. Who cares if I appear to be allergic to water?Īt their camp, we eat ice cream that is, they say, the “best ice cream in the world,” yet it still makes my tongue itch. I have a wonderful boyfriend with a wonderful family in a wonderful part of the country. I won a dollar! I say to Matt, I am so lucky. I buy a scratch-off lottery ticket for the first time in my life to see if I can still be lucky. I was strangely disappointed, if only because it seemed right that a body should reject something like that.Ī few hours later, at the grocery store, the hives are gone. My body accepted the cockroach dust without question. “I just had an allergy test.”Įarlier that summer, a nurse injected me with pollen, cat dandruff, cockroach dust, three times over, in increasing quantities. The hives cover every inch of my skin, make me appear covered in bubble wrap. “Are you sure you’re not allergic to anything?” Matt asks, looking at my arms and my stomach with horror. So I bought the good stuff, we drove north, and yet the hives continued. Maybe this is why my mother always bought the good stuff. The ocean is the source of all life, an organic and beautiful thing, and the sunscreen was the cheapest one at CVS. And we agreed that it was probably the sunscreen. We’ve been saying this ever since we left Rhode Island, where we were certain it was caused by something strange in the ocean. It has to be something in the water, right?” I get out of the water and say, “But it can’t be the water. The hives form in a line up a vein in my foot. But each time I stand knee-deep in the water, my feet begin to itch. He is a fly-fisherman, and I want to learn. My boyfriend, Matt, and I are taking a big road trip, from the coast of Rhode Island all the way up to the Bonaventure River in Quebec. And during that summer, I am always in water.

A month before my 30th birthday, I start getting hives whenever I’m in the water.

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