
Karissa Ho
A Mild Sense of Peril
Bodhi Jet Atkinson
|
“Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.” |
||
|
“Oh, you’re fine.” |
||
|
“Reckon it’s the oysters?” |
||
|
“I don’t know. No. What kind of sick do you feel?” |
||
|
“Itchy throat, sore stomach, nauseous, a mild sense of |
||
|
“I don’t know what that means.” |
||
|
“I just feel like something’s not right. I’m going to ask |
||
|
“Don’t—” |
||
|
“—Hi, hey, sorry.” |
||
|
“Is everything okay with your food, sir?” |
||
|
“Hi, yes, everything’s delicious. I just wanted to make sure, I know we went through this earlier, but are you able to double check if there’re crustaceans in anything we’re eating?” |
|
|
|
“I can certainly do that. Are you having a reaction?” |
||
|
“Yeah, just a mild one, I think.” |
|
|
|
|
“He’s fine.” |
|
|
“I’ll check with the kitchen. Did you need me to call an ambulance?” |
||
|
|
“He’s fine. Definitely do not call an ambulance.” |
|
| “Can you shut up? If I was fine, I wouldn’t be saying I wasn’t fine, would I?” |
|
|
|
“I’ll talk to the kitchen now for you.” |
||
|
“Thank you … I like that waiter. He’s very good.”
|
|
|
|
|
“He’s annoyed at you. Do you not pick up on that?” |
|
|
“Well, I told you not to get oysters. You complain about this happening every time, but maybe it happens every time because you get the oysters every time.”
|
|
|
|
|
“You’re not allergic to oysters, you’re allergic to crustaceans.”
|
|
| “Yeah, but they’re close enough.” |
|
|
|
“Hi, so, I’ve just spoken with the chefs. Definitely no crustaceans in your meal, sir. However, your oysters, ma’am, were prepared alongside prawn—” |
||
| “See! I told you. Every time.” |
|
|
|
|
And every time you’ve been fine! You’ve never once had a reaction! I’m not living my life without oysters just because you’re a hypochondriac!”
|
|
|
“Stop yelling. Jesus. You’re making him feel awkward—Thank you very much for talking to the chefs.”
|
|
|
|
“Of course. How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?” |
||
|
|
“He’s fine.”
|
|
| “Do you know if there’s a pharmacy nearby?” |
|
|
|
|
“You’re fine.” | |
|
“There’s a Seven-Eleven three shops down. That might have something?” |
||
|
|
“He’s fine!” | |
|
“Shut up, would you! Fucking hell—Thank you again, you’ve been a massive help.”
|
|
|
|
“Of course. Let me know if I can get you anything.” |
||
|
“Will do, thank you very much.”
|
|
|
|
|
“…Where are you going?”
|
|
| “Seven-Eleven.” |
|
|
|
|
“I’m not sitting here waiting for you.” | |
| “Then come with me if you want.” |
|
|
|
|
“I’m not coming with you either.”
|
|
|
“I don’t understand what you want me to do. I am having an allergic reaction.”
|
|
|
|
|
“To what?” | |
| “The oysters!” |
|
|
|
|
“You’re not fucking allergic to oysters!”
|
|
| “It’s about proximity!” |
|
|
|
|
“Oh my god, you sound like a crazy person.” |
|
| “Have you ever gone into anaphylactic shock? Do you know how horrible it is? Imagine suffocating to death from the inside out.” |
|
|
|
|
“You’ve never gone into anaphylactic shock! You don’t even carry an EpiPen.”
|
|
| “That’s because I’m very careful!” |
|
|
|
|
“I don’t even know what to say anymore.”
|
|
|
“I just want to get an anti-fucking-histamine. It’s not that big of a—why are crying?”
|
|
|
|
|
“Because something’s wrong with us.”
|
|
| “I don’t understand why you’re crying right now, I just wanted to get an anti—stop crying. Really? Seriously? C’mon now. Hey, hey, hey, stop. Look, I’m sorry, okay? Jesus. You need to breathe, you’re turning red. Listen, okay, I’m sorry. I’m feeling fine now, I won’t go get an antihistamine, just please stop crying. Hun, people are looking, you need to breathe—Yes, she’s fine, thank you. No, honestly, we’re fine. Maybe, could we get some more water please?—Just slow it down, Hun. Big breaths in. Are you okay? Have some water. There you go. You’re fine. You’re fine.” |
|
|
|
|
||
|
|
![]()
Bodhi Jet Atkinson is an emerging writer from Sydney, Australia. He graduated from Sydney Film School. His work has appeared in JMWW and Typishly Literary Magazine.
Next Up: Lunchbreak by Brendan Gillen