Local Honey

My skin is screeching again. Every time I leave the cover of my home, my body makes its audible objection. I can't remember a time before this phenomenon. It's almost as if my brain is trying to protect what is left of my sanity by not letting me remember my experience with peace. There is one thing I know, though - it's getting worse.

Not even three weeks ago I could be out for the entire day and only have had what I thought to be the ramifications from all of that time exposed to deal with in the night. Now it seems that the very idea of walking outside sets it off. What "it" is still remains somewhat unknown to me.

I have a doctor's appointment today to try and address the cosmos of blisters and rashes on the expanse of my shoulders, back, and arms. The waiting room is apparently cold, with all of the nurses bundled up in their sweaters, but I can't escape the heat radiating from my pores. As I'm finally called back to my patient room, I have to fight my burning desire to run full speed into the full retention pond in the parking lot.

Dr. Mara doesn't seem too fazed by my state. She thumbed through my paperwork before sitting down on her rolling chair.

"When did this start?"

"Have you changed your diet at all?"

"Does it hurt?"

These questions were expected, and I had already determined their answers on my own accord: can't remember, no, and a resounding yes. I think my answers are also what she expected. It was her next question, though, that sent my mind into an abyss.

"Have you had any major or troubling life events occur recently?"

I always prepared myself to come to the doctor. I tried to think of every scenario that I could possibly find myself in; every question I could possibly be asked. This question, though, I had neglected. Consequently, I wasn't sure how to answer.

My life had always seemed to follow the typical arc of storytelling, except I feel that I'm perpetually stuck in the rising action phase.

Well, I had felt that way until I met Leo.

He had showed up one day out of nowhere wearing his cream-colored tailored suit at the local coffee shop. I was there on my weekly binge of breaking my procrastination fast. Work always caught up with me, and I seemed to only be able to manage the overwhelming mountain of deadlines at my usual high-top. But that day, all I could manage was an admiring gaze toward this astonishing stranger. His skin was the color of local honey, dripping with flecks of amber and gold. His eyes were piercing, verging on crimson. I was completely entranced by him, even as he walked toward my table. I don't remember hearing him greet me, but I remember greeting him nonetheless.

We talked for a long time after that initial introduction. I was still stuck in his trance even as I spoke. He told me that my voice sounded like that of an angel. It's a cheesy line, I know, but it still worked on me. He offered to pick me up for an official date later that week, and I had accepted immediately.

The date went well. So did the next one, and the one after that, until eventually we had reached our one year anniversary. Time seemed to move differently with Leo. I felt that I was reaching that crucial turning point in my life's narrative. I could see myself clinging onto him for the rest of my days. Coming in to this appointment, I had still wanted that.

Two weeks after our first anniversary, Leo had asked me to move in with him. I was elated. I couldn't wait to inhabit the same space as my beloved. He pushed for me to move as quickly as I could, and I saw no concern with his pace. We both needed this.

A month passed and I was officially moved in. Life felt like it couldn't get any better. Leo would wake up every morning before my alarm to make my coffee for me. What had brought us together initially was still uniting us every morning. At work, my mind would race as I thought of the time I would be able to spend in the evening with my love. Maybe we could watch movies, or read books together. Maybe we could drive to the beach to hear the waves and gaze up at the stars.

I asked Dr. Mara to repeat her question, even though I knew the answer. I had moved in with Leo four months ago. As I heard those words from her again, I was flooded with recollection.

My skin has been burning for four months.

She looked up at me, awaiting my answer. I knew I had to be flushed, but I couldn't explain exactly why. I told her I had moved four months ago to a place closer to the beach. The clarification was more so my way of trying to reason out of my initial thoughts. As Dr. Mara wrote on her paper, I knew she wouldn't reach the right conclusion. Not unless I told her more of what I was suspecting. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"So you are probably more exposed to the sun there then, right? I'm thinking you might be allergic to the sun. We could run some tests, but in the meantime, try your best to remain covered or in the shade when outside. Okay?"

I should've offered up my inner dialogue to her. But I worried that she wouldn't believe me. I took my paperwork from her and left the building, my hands trembling as I looked for my keys. Once I was in the car, my paranoia got the better of me.

On one of our dates to our favorite coffee shop, the barista had suggested we try the new honey-flavored latte. Leo and I had agreed, and it had quickly become one of our new favorite orders. The first week I lived with Leo, he had told me that adding honey from the local stand to his coffee had given him the same result as our favorite honey latte. I took his word for it, and he has been serving me honey with my coffee since.

I raced to the local honey stand that Leo visited every week. After fishing a $5 out of my purse, I picked up the new jar and kept my same speed in getting home. Rummaging through the pantry, I found our current container. My heart stopped as I realized the drastic difference in color between the two. I began rummaging once more, unsure of what I was looking for.

He's been giving me this honey. The wrong-colored one that he claims comes from the same stand I just visited. My search of our cabinets came to a halt as I was met face to face with what I was hoping not to find.

Under a large pile of napkins and paper plates there was a small bottle labeled "Almond Extract."

Tears were flowing down my face as I tried to push back the reality that was crashing down onto me. I opened the new jar of honey, tipping the bottle over to add many drops of the extract into the sweet substance. I reached for our coffee stirrers, and prayed that I had gone insane. I thought back to one specific conversation with Leo.

"Is there anything I should be careful of when buying us groceries? Any allergies?" he had asked me over the phone.

"Buy whatever you want, honey. I'm allergic to almonds, but I know what I can and can't eat. It'll be okay."

Leo hadn't seen the issues with my skin as too worrisome. He had told me it was probably just my body adjusting to a new place. I had tried not to make too big of a deal of it around him, and he, in return, hardly asked about it.

I hadn't noticed that my eyes were closed as I finished mixing together the extract and the honey. I held my breath for the reveal. A perfect color match.

The shock of the revelation was enough to hold me in place. I only moved when I heard the keys in the door.

"Honey? Are you here?"