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I try to hate him. I really do. But I feel as if I stillfeelthe connection we shared, and that it was more than just a love for fashion. I think of how much I liked being around him. I think of how much I liked smiling at him. I think of how good he felt inside me … And so like the old moth to a flame joke, my finger finds my clit.
Because as much as I’ve tried to forget him this last month, as well as the whole loss of a dream thing, I’ve also masturbated like crazy. I just can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t stop thinking about the yacht, or the island. His enormous—
I blow my bangs to the side and text Mimi something funny I thought the other day. I’ve just got to change the subject. In truth, I’m just passing the time and trying to keep her company for as long as I can. She’s about to start work and will be unavailable.
Then it will be back to the same cycle I’ve been living with for the last month.
Except for one thing …
I burp and bile comes up. I feel sick immediately.
I’ve been feeling sick these last few days.
Nausea each morning like no one would believe. It’s like I’m hungry to the point of sickness as soon as I open my eyes. I’ve never been like this. Yet the thought of anything other than a dry biscuit or cracker makes me want to vomit. Just thinking aboutthinking aboutmy sickness makes me sick.
I get out of bed and run to the bathroom. I don’t know how many times I’ve vomited these lasttwodays specifically. By the afternoon I know I’ll be famished though.
I run the tap and take a few sips of water. That’s helped to push away the sickness each morning. Not always, but sometimes. I sit down and prop myself against the bathtub. The last thing I need to do is faint and hit my head. I close my eyes and just sit, listening to the waves lapping at the foreshore of our private block. It’s been as humid as anything these last few days. But no one else thinks though, father’s goons are still wearing their damn suits while I’m sweating buckets. I feel like the kid who packed the wrong clothes to summer camp.
Mimi hasn’t responded and I feel the loneliness settle in. I can’t handle doing accounting today. I feel especially depressed knowing my sentence isn’t ending. But I know my father's assistant is going to come any moment and make the same stupid joke, ‘Are we pregnant with ambition today?’. I’vealmostlaughed zero times at her joke, yet she keeps making it.
I make myself get up, a cold shower will help this feeling of heaviness and lethargy get off me. This depression of never seeing Luca again—
I freeze.
An idea has just crossed my mind. Something so stupid it could be true. Never seeing Luca again.Luca. Pregnant with ambition. My eyes go wide as I stare at myself in the mirror.
Am I pregnant?
I squat back down quickly to my butt, because I could faint from this realization. Am I pregnant? My mind clicks into gear.
I’m late too. I was supposed to have my period like a week ago. Not that a week is a big time to be late … In high school when I was stressed about going to the prom, I was late. When I had to tell my father I was going to fail math, I was late again. But this time? A week?
The sickness in the morning. I look down at my belly.Is something growing in there?
I grab my phone and text Mimi immediately.DO YOU HAVE A MOMENT?I use all caps for her to know the importance of this text.
She calls immediately. I answer and I can hear the noise of street traffic and people chatting in the background. She must be arriving at work.
“What’s up?” she asks. “You never use all-caps.”
“I never use caps,” I reply. “Unless it’s fucking needed.”
“What’s happened? Your dad finally go nuts?” she asks, even more on edge.
“I need you to go to the pharmacy on your lunch break and bring me something.”
“Huh?” Mimi says, all pretense of care suddenly gone. “You want me to go shopping for you?”
“No,” I hiss. “I need you to buy me apregnancytest. I’ve just realized I’m late. And I’ve been sick for the last week in the morning. And—”
Mimi gasps with joy at the mere whiff scandal. “You’re pregnant with Luca’s baby!”
I hear the chatter of people become loud for a second. Then Mimi is screaming something at her boss. She comes back. “I'm running to the pharmacy now! We need you peeing on a stick pronto.”
“But hold up! You’re working,” I say.
I can hear feet slapping on the pavement. She must’ve kicked off her flats that she wears when she’s waitressing. “This is bigger than a shitty job earning peanuts. I’m looking after you.”
