Page 115 of Tell Me What You Want, Or Leave Me

“I stayed up reading until four in the morning. I missed Eric.”

Simona smiles. “Don’t worry, Judith. He’ll be back the day after tomorrow at the latest.”

As soon as she disappears up the stairs, I go to the kitchen. The churros are on the table.

To prove to myself they don’t disgust me, I throw myself at them. I gobble away, and my stomach keeps still. That relaxes me for an instant. But I’m a wreck, and I shove seven churros down my throat until my stomach rebels and I have to rush out of the kitchen.

I run into Simona on the way, and she follows me. Easy and sanguine, she does what my mother did so many times when I was little. She holds my head while my body expels absolutely everything.

I’m so disgusted with myself!

When I finally relax, I’m covered by a horrible cold sweat. I let Simona guide me by the hand to the kitchen.

“You’re pale...very pale,” she says.

I don’t say a thing. I can’t.

I don’t want to talk about what’s happening to me but, suddenly, Simona fixes her eyes on the plate of churros.

“How are you not going to throw up with all the churros you’ve eaten?”

I nod.

I don’t want to explain anything.

“I was so hungry, I ate them in a rush, and I think my stomach got angry at me.”

She prepares some tea and asks me to drink it so my stomach will calm down.

Gross!

I hate tea.

But Simona insists, and I listen to her. Otherwise she’ll call Eric. Ten minutes later, I’m feeling like me again, and color returns to my face.

I turn on the TV and we watchEmerald Madness. But I’m not following it. My thoughts are elsewhere. And Simona is oblivious.

“Poor little Esmeralda,” she says when the episode concludes. “All her life suffering and now her love doesn’t recognize her and falls in love with the hospital nurse. How sad...How sad.”

When she leaves, and I’m alone in the kitchen, I decide to go to the pharmacy. I tell Simona I’m not going to be home for lunch. I need to go out and get some air. I grab my red anorak, go to the garage, and get in the Mitsubishi. Eric’s scent is all over me again.

“If I’m pregnant, I’m going to kill you, Mr. Zimmerman.”

I start to drive aimlessly while the music plays in the car, but I can’t even sing.

I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’m a disaster as a person; how can I have a child?

I park the car near Bogenhausen and decide to take a walk through the English Garden. It’s cold. In Munich it gets cold as hell in November. As I think and walk, I pass a beer bike, the city’s star attraction. I notice the driver is drinking beer and having fun while pedaling. My stomach turns. Gross!

I continue my walk and stroll past several mothers and their babies.

I don’t know how long I’ve been walking when I realize I’m totally frozen. My anorak isn’t warm enough, and, if I go on like this, I’ll get pneumonia. As I leave the English Garden, I see a tobacco shop. I head straight to it and buy a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I light a cigarette, inhale, and enjoy.

I can’t be pregnant. It must be a mistake.

I keep walking until I see a pharmacy.

I stare at it from a distance, and, when I finish my smoke, I go in and wait in line. “I want a pregnancy test, please,” I say when it’s my turn.

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