FINALLY - She Caught a Cold (F)
The long awaited cold from a non-sneezer : A college memory.
If you’ve had the kink from an early age, chances are there was one person—someone whose nose seemed almost mythical in its resilience. Never a sniffle. Never a sneeze. Never so much as a tissue in sight.
For me, that person was “Julie.” We’d known each other since middle school, and by jr year of college, she was still one of the most striking people I knew. Her skin was fare and flawless, and her nose—oh, that nose—was large, Romanesque with elegantly long, tapering nostrils wide at the side narrowing to a point — and a perfectly imperfect bump at the bridge. I used to tell her how cute it was, and while she always had a boyfriend, there was this playful, flirty energy between us. It was clear: if he were ever out of the picture, I might have been in the picture. But I digress.
The thing is, in all those years, I had never seen her sick. Not even a casual dab with a napkin. That mystery—and her beauty—only fueled my curiosity. So when the stars aligned on that freezing February Monday, I couldn’t believe my luck.
As usual, I arrived at school early and found our little circle of friends gathering, despite the temperature —in the usual outdoor spot. And there she was—Julie—right in the middle, lips pink, hair a bit messy, and… were those chapped nostrils? My heart jumped. No way. Could this finally be the moment?
As I walked closer, it was unmistakable. A half empty travel pack of yellow Kleenex sat beside her. Her glorious nose—usually flawless—was now red from bridge to tip, clearly ravaged by a weekend of sneezing and blowing.
“Uh oh,” I said, leaning in. “What’s wrong?”
She pointed to her raw nostrils and gave a half-laugh, half-sigh.
“Dodt get too close….by cute doze has a terrible cold.”
Those words. That phrase. I’ve always loved when people frame it that way—giving the cold a home, a personality, and specificity in the nose. Music to my ears. Nor would catching her snotty cold matter in the least. I always had one. She never did. If being sick in bed with a nose too meant thoroughly enjoying this …so be it!
“Well, it certainly does,” I said, trying to stay cool. Just then—hah’TSCHuh!—she let out a sudden, open sneeze into her hand. Then another. And another. Each more congested and desperate than the last. She sniffled hard, closed one nostril, and reached into her coat pocket to pull out a Vicks inhaler. I watched as she pressed it to her still-plugged nostril and took a long, wheezy inhale. Her eyes fluttered shut, lost in the mentholated relief.
Another sneeze followed, this time into a tissue. Thick, wet, and unashamedly messy. Her poor nose gushed into the paper, then again—Hhuhh’TCHUH!—before she muttered, voice utterly nasal,
“Uh oh, by doze is explodig.”
She grabbed another tissue, cleaned up, and finished with a loud, trumpet-like honk that would have put an orchestra to shame. When she lowered the tissue, put them on the bench next to her…she showed off her now crimson nose. Her eyes watered. Her hair was wild. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I cad’t stop blowig wuds I start…” sharing a deep wet sniffle despite the work her nose had just completed.
“By doze is Dot so cute today, is It?”
Oh Julie…if only you knew…
