Friday, September 16, 2011

The candy shop

I used to love Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It was even my favorite movie for a while, until I discovered Pokemon. I used to wish that a candy shop would open in my town so I could stop there on the way home from school like Charlie did.
It took me a few years to realize that I should probably stop making that wish because even if one did open I wouldn't be able to go. In elementary school I frequently irritated my teachers by approaching them just after lunch and whining that "my chin itched," which was seven-year-old speak for "I'm having an allergic reaction and it itches like hell, mostly on my hands and arms and also my elbows and where I've been leaning my head on my hand." Then they had to send me to the bathroom with orders to take a sponge bath in the sink, and while I was gone write up a note for the lunch monitor reminding them, once again, not to seat me near anyone who had peanuts! Somehow, even though I was very aware I was allergic to peanuts, and couldn't be anywhere near peanuts, and couldn't eat lots of different candies because of peanuts, it took a while for me to figure out that I wouldn't be able to stroll into a candy shop like a normal kid.
Which is why I was just a little annoyed last year when my wish very tardily came true. 
My mother and pretty much everyone else knew about this long before I did, and by the time I'd heard about it from a friend my mother, who actually reads the newspaper, had already called them and asked if they used peanuts at all. Her question was me with a resounding yes, there were peanuts in the brownies and the cookies and the ice cream and the jars of candy they had just sitting around. So when my friend mentioned in front of her that we should stop there on our Christmas shopping, she cut in to say I probably shouldn't even think about it. 
I decided to think about it anyway, and I then decided that it would probably be alright if I just walked in with my friend and did my awkward little stand-there-and-don't-touch-anything routine. I'd perfected it over years of school field trips and parties and rewards for which we ended up at a restaurant or went out for ice cream or did something else for which I was required to stand off to the side and watch everyone else have fun. I'd gotten used to it, and I really wanted to be able to go to the candy shop with my friend and do something that normal kids do. As I recall, I hadn't yet figured out that having a service dog pretty much proved I wasn't normal and should probably stop trying before I hurt myself, and so into the candy shop we went. 
I thought it smelled very nice, and unfortunately so did my dog, although his definition of nice meant that I was going to have to praise him and/or give him a treat. He sat, signaling that he'd found some peanuts, but had trouble telling me where. We were in the middle of the room and not near any of the counters or tables, and when I asked him he pointed in several directions and then repeated his signal, as though he was trying to alert on the air itself. I patted him and rubbed his ears and told him he was a good dog, and we went over and stood next to my friend while she filled a bag with the candies she wanted to give her mother for Christmas. I coughed once into my sleeve, and my friend immediately turned to me and asked if I was alright. She was one of the few people in my town who actually believed me when I told them about my allergies, and she was probably being smarter about the whole situation than I was. I told her I was fine.
As she paid I coughed several more times, and after she'd rushed us from the shop I spent several minutes coughing so hard I was afraid I might accidentally vomit.  
So, in short, I was an idiot. It was the first stupid thing I'd done in years, but I made up for lost time with level of idiocy. At least I had the foresight not to lean on anything.
I still look in the windows when I pass that place, although I'm not dumb enough to go back in. It's really frustrating at times just how much I can't do, and what's worse is that so many people don't believe me. 
Whenever I think of the candy shop I remember a scene from a movie we watched in eighth grade History. It was about segregation, and at one point we saw a black-and-white image of a girl sadly looking through the window of a soda shop she couldn't enter. 
Sometimes I really feel different.

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