R.I.P., you useless piece of shite that is actually quite useful when navigating a foreign country.
I turned on my laptop, something I’d rarely done since arriving in Vernazza, and worded a quick email to Andie. She replied within minutes.
From: [email protected]
Dear Andie,
Thank you for your advice regarding my sickness. You are—sadly—very, very mistaken, possibly delusional. Just because you possess the fertility of ancient Mesopotamia doesn’t mean the rest of us are baby-making machines.
As you are barking mad, please refrain from giving any more advice to others until you seek professional help.
Your Concerned SIL,
Georgie
___
From: [email protected]
Georgie,
I know it’s a lot to handle, but you need to think it over. Seriously. Fatigue, morning sickness, tender breasts. I’d be willing to bet you even missed your last period…
Don’t freak out. Call me back.
Your EVEN MORE concerned SIL,
Andie
___
From: [email protected]
Dear Andie,
What a rapid reply, have they let you bring your computer into the asylum? What’s concerning is that you think pregnancy is even an option. ARE YOU PREGNANT? I took one semester of psychology, and I remember learning about your condition. It’s called projecting. Is that what this is all about?
I’ve attached a few names of proper therapists in London. Please do give them a call.
Will pray for your speedy recovery,
Georgie
___
From: [email protected]
Ha ha. Just take a pregnancy test. Once you know for sure, you can decide what you’ll do. Until then, you’ll drive yourself crazy worrying.
-Andie
___
From: [email protected]
Dear Andie,
Let’s entertain your sick fantasy for a moment. What’ll I do?! If I am in fact pregnant (*massive eye roll*), I’d be so completely lost I would simply pop out of existence and cease to exist. Due to the fact that I do, indeed, exist, it stands to reason that I therefore could not possibly be preggo.
I think therefore I am (not pregnant),
Georgie
___
I slammed my laptop closed and reached for my box of crackers. Now that I thought about it, when Andie was pregnant and had suffered from morning sickness, she’d sworn having an empty stomach made it worse. But…that didn’t apply here…since I wasn’t pregnant.
I was on the pill, mind you. I took it every day—well I had forgotten once a few weeks back, but the chances that I’d happened to miss a day and had begun to ovulate had to be astronomical. The odds were on my side. My stomach, however, was not.
I munched on another cracker, letting it dissolve in my mouth as I stared off at a point in my room, right at the corner. I wanted to freeze time, to live in denial as long as possible. I’d never been pregnant before; maybe this was just a simple stomach flu? I did feel a bit lightheaded.
Oh bloody hell.
If it was true, my brother was going to freak out.
My mum would moan on and on about me being an unwed mother. The scandal would likely do her in and then I’d have to shoulder the weight of having killed my own mother. How’s that for grief, Gianluca?
Oh god, Gianluca. I dropped back onto my bed and shielded my eyes with my forearm. I had absolutely no clue what he would do if it was true. The worst part of me feared that maybe he’d assume I’d done it on purpose, like it was some twisted plot to trap him into staying with me forever.
I knew it was silly, he would never truly think that, but how could I not worry?
He’d been busy the last few days. He hadn’t come to work at Il Mare and had mentioned a bit of work he had to do up at his villa. I’d gladly shoved him out, telling him to take as much time as he needed to sort out whatever it was he was doing. I needed time away from him, time to think and wrap my head around my feelings.
Now, I had this thing to think over…this massive, impossible, 100% unlikely…yet maybe possible THING Andie had just torpedoed at me.
It was all too much. I tried to take in a deep breath, but my lungs constricted, fighting me. I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was having a proper panic attack. I had to get out. I couldn’t die in a bed, alone, with saltine cracker crumbs scattered across my chest. Too pathetic even for me.
I stood and reached for the jacket on the back of my door. I slipped on a pair of sandals and left. Evening had rolled in and the air was chilly outside. I had nowhere to be, but it felt good to get out and walk. I went up to the train station and bought a ticket to La Spezia. I sat alone and stared down at my fingers twisted together on my lap.
We passed village after village and the train filled up. I listened to the sound of the passengers, more attuned to the children aboard than ever before. A mom and infant even took the seat in front of me, and I thought it was a real sign from God—up until the infant saw my face and started to wail.
Oh baby Jesus.
I was doomed.
AFTER A LONG walk around La Spezia the night before and loads of sleep, I’d really come to my senses about things and had concluded that everything was fine, whether it wanted to be or not.
Sure, I’d strolled into a pharmacy in La Spezia and picked up a dozen pregnancy tests, but they were more for drama than anything else. The real problem was that my brother had married a mental patient, and I thought it was best if we all focused our energy on getting her the help she needed.