I turned on the light in the front seat and, yikes, her face did look a little weird. There was a fiery blotch spreading from her nose up across the side of her face.

“It’s a little red,” I said.

“It itches,” she said. “I’m not allergic to coke. I used to do it all the time.”

“Maybe you’re allergic to the other stuff in it. You’re not really allergic to things, are you?”

“I don’t think so,” she said.

I’d done plenty of that lousy batch and I felt fine.

“It’ll probably go away.”

I turned off the light and hoped for the best.

“Bad things always happen to me in cars,” Patricia said. “Tom broke up with me when we were driving home from Cape Cod. Then I crashed my car and had to go to rehab. Cars are a real problem area for me.”

“Trains are good,” I said. “I’d live on a train if I could.”

We were at the parking lot of the bar, which looked dark but open, with a few beat-up cars out front.

“Okay, my face is officially fucking on fire,” Patricia said. She turned on the light and flipped down the driver’s-side mirror. Her face was a mess. The right side was so swollen that her eye was almost closed.

“Oh shit, Stevie,” she said. “I think I need to go to the hospital.”

“Maybe the bar will have some antihistamines or something,” I said. “Don’t worry. If something really bad was going to happen it would’ve happened already.”

I patted her on the shoulder and she jerked away. I hustled into the bar and immediately felt better in the bleach-smelling dimness. The front area was a liquor store, half lit and empty, and a couple of guys were slumped at the bar in the back of the room. Maud the bartender was looking up at a TV playing It’s a Wonderful Life. It was the scene where Jimmy Stewart abandons his new wife to calm the run on the bank. The blonde whose name I could never remember was standing behind Maud wearing an apron. As if they needed a waitress tonight. Maybe she had a bad family life and wanted to be my new girlfriend?

“Maud, I came to celebrate the birth of Christ with you, but I wonder if you have any antihistamines?”

“What a nice tradition this is!” she said.

“My sister’s having an allergic reaction,” I said. “She’s feeling anxious about it.”

“Aw, the little drunk?” she said. “That’s a shame. I think I have some Advil.”

“Let’s give it a chance,” I said. “And some ice in a cup and some water?” And. “And a couple shots of vodka?”

As she got the stuff an old guy at the bar turned to me. “Crap Christmas,” he said.