One Bite Too Late

Synopsis

I was allergic to chives, and badly enough that if one so much as brushes my lips, they swell up like sausages. Before I got married, I told my husband's mother, Helen Carter, about it three times. Each time, she'd smile and nod, saying, "Alright, alright, I'll remember, dear." When I was three months pregnant, she brought over a plate of ravioli, saying they were egg-filled and made just for me to help me stay healthy. I took a bite, and the strong flavor of chives hit me right away. She sat across from me, staring without blinking, a barely-there smile tugging at her lips. I didn't say a word. I just kept eating until the plate was empty. Helen slapped the table and burst out laughing. "See? I told you. Allergies? All fake! Young people are just so sensitive!" Two hours later, when the ambulance came to take me away, she was still in the living room, knitting. In the ER, the doctor read my results and said one sentence, and Helen went straight down as though her bones had gone out of her.