Page 85 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

Had that been a threat, reminding me that he was legally their father, and that he could do as he pleased, at least half the time? Or was I blowing everything out of proportion? Julian wouldn’t do what Ira had done to me, would he? I should be ashamed of even thinking that. And yet, here he is, not talking to me, just like Ira used to. When he wasn’t demeaning me, that is.

‘Remember that you are free, light and happy…’ Gabriele reminded us.

As if. I was anythingbutthat.

Let’s face it, I’d nailed my own coffin down tight and there was no way out of it unless I managed to convince Julian that it would never happen again. But how? Chain myself to the kitchen sink? I’d already promised never to have anything to do with Alberto again. What else could I do to win Julian’s trust back?

I drove back home after the Pilates class, gripping the wheel and wiping the tears from my face. Only in my car was I alone and free to let all my anguish out as a million permutations zapped around my already frazzled brain. Paul was still mad at me. What was I going to do?

When I got home, I slunk into the kitchen and began peeling onions for tonight’s shepherd’s pie, Julian’s favorite, and I remembered how, when married to Ira, I’d be peeling onions all the time to mask my tears. I’d accumulated bag-loads of them in my freezer. No – I couldn’t go back to that… ever again. I plunked myself down at the table, holding my head.

‘Hi, Erica! What’s wrong?’ Renata asked as she sauntered in, and I rubbed my face so she wouldn’t see the tears.

‘Dunno. Just a bit queasy. Something I ate. Long time no see – how are things?’

She ignored my question. ‘That’s funny. You’ve always been able to digest mountains.’

‘Sorry – need to run,’ I said, dashing upstairs to my en-suite bathroom, where no one would notice me, where Ithrew upmountains.

It just didn’t stop. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said I was pregnant, but Julian hadn’t touched me in months and by the looks of it, wouldn’t be anytime soon. A loud groan escaped me as I heaved my whole soul into the toilet bowl and Julian appeared.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

A-ha. So he did still care, even if a little.

‘No, I want to die,’ I said, sticking my head further down the toilet bowl.

He stood there for a moment, unsure.

‘Please go away.’ The last thing I wanted was for him to see me like this.

Without another word, he turned and left, and I plastered myself to the bathroom floor, totally depleted of any energy. See? In the past, he would have stayed to hold my hair out of my face. Now, it was the furthest thing from his mind.

I don’t know how long I lay there, but I was too weak and besides, my back was very happy in that position. And I didn’t have to go anywhere. And I hadn’t worried about the B & B or Alberto or even Julian since I’d been sick earlier. It was like a short reprieve from reality. I could actually lie here and not think about anything for a while – possibly until next summer. Hopefully, Julian would be able to look me in the eye by then. If only he’d come back to me. How long did he expect me to grovel? Even I had my limits.

As if in answer to my prayers, the door to the bathroom opened again and Julian stood over me, his face a deep, fuming red.

‘What? What is it?’ I whispered, rolling onto my side to get up.

‘You tell me,’ he bit off, his voice so faint it seemed to have nothing in common with the killer expression on his face. He looked like two completely different people. ‘Tell me to my face. If you have thegall…’

I stared at him blankly. ‘What…?’

‘When were you going to tell me, Erica?’ he suddenly exploded. ‘How long has this been going on?’

I scratched my head. Oh my God, had he finally found out about Paul’s miracle video that I’d shamelessly swapped at the last minute? I’d managed to keep that one under wraps only because Julian wasn’t in the area at the time it was released and also because I’d made sure I’d thrown out every single copy ofLa Nazionein the house. I’d promised I wouldn’t do anything like that again, but I had and he’d found out. I hung my head in shame.

‘Don’t deny it.’

Damn rat. ‘I’m sorry. It was… just a strong urge. I couldn’t control it.’

‘And just what the hell am I supposed to do with this information? To think I’d forgiven you!’

‘Could have fooled me,’ I cried. ‘You were going to forgive me and all the same you put me through weeks of this hell?’

His eyes were blazing, shooting flames. ‘And this is how you fix things? By getting pregnant?’

I shrank back. ‘What the hell are you talking about? I’m not pregnant…’

---