In Sickness and in Wealth by Gina Robinson Read Free Book Online

accidentally.
    Diana shot me a sharp look.
    Next to me, Jus set his jaw.
    "And especially into guys who coach them." I grabbed Justin's arm and gave him an adoring look.
    His face lit up. A busboy cleared the antipasti and plates. Two of Paolo's staff came out of the kitchen, carrying trays of steaming soup.
    Kirk rubbed his hands together. "And here it is! The main event. You're in for a treat, Kayla. No one makes zuppa di pesce like Paolo! It's his specialty. People come from all over Naples for it."
    As a bowl was set in front of me, my stomach grumbled. A gag rose in my throat. Crap. I swallowed hard against the bile rising in my esophagus. Morning sickness would choose now, a most inconvenient time, to make its first appearance.
    I got my first glimpse of my bowl of soup—clams steamed open in their shells, tiny whole fish with their eyes staring accusingly back at me, whole shrimp, still in their shells, complete with legs, long antennae, and beady eyes, and whole baby octopi swimming in a tomato base. It was like a trip to the zombie aquarium in my bowl.
    My stomach roiled. Didn't the Italians know you're supposed to clean the fish before you cook it? And devein the shrimp and take them out of their shells? And who eats baby octopus?
    I didn't want to be close to the earthy nature of my food. I wanted my food the American way—clean and sanitized to the point where you'd never imagine your meat actually came from a real animal.
    Just then Kirk took a spoonful of baby octopus and ate it whole, chewing rigorously.
    I tried not to wince as I imagined what was going on in his mouth.
    " Polpetto !" He made a sound of gastric happiness. "Try it, Kayla. It's deliciously fresh. You've never had anything like it."
    Yeah, and I really didn't want to start now. I realized my earlier mistake of thinking Paolo was serving us polenta . Whole different thing. Cornmeal, not octopus. Cornmeal I could handle. I took one look at the baby octopus in my soup—poor dead baby animal. Was its mother mourning it?—covered my mouth, and ran for the restroom to hurl.
    After some minutes of clutching the porcelain throne, the nausea disappeared as quickly as it had come. I felt pale and shaken, but much better. As I cleaned myself up I wondered, How am I going to explain this ?
    Jus startled me as I came out of the bathroom. "You okay?"
    I jumped and clutched my heart. "Jus. You scared me. Do you always lurk in doorways by the ladies' room?"
    "Sorry." He looked contrite and embarrassed. "I was worried about you."
    "I'm fine. It's sweet of you to be concerned." I stroked his cheek and smiled. It was a good thing I was becoming such a fine actor. "Sudden nauseous migraine," I lied. "It came on just like this." I snapped my fingers. "By the time I realized I was getting an aura and my eye hurt, it was too late."
    "I didn't know you got migraines."
    Neither did I. My freshman roommate at the sorority used to get them. I was borrowing her history, and symptoms, so to speak. "I don't get them like this often. Maybe a couple of times a year? It happens when I'm off schedule."
    Maybe I should have given them a little more frequency. An excuse in the hand…
    His brow creased. He really was adorably sweet. "Should I take you back to the pensione ?"
    "No. Once I've…" I cleared my throat, indicating delicacy. "The worst is over." I took his hand, which was warm and comforting as it squeezed mine. "How offended is Paolo? Will you explain?"
    Jus nodded. "My brothers are having a field day with your squeamishness. I'll put them in their places, too." He sounded like he relished the thought.
    "Go gentle on them. Forgive them for what they don't know."
    Paolo took it all with good humor and offered me ice for my head, insisting it would help. "It's the bad air in the heat."
    Jus translated it for me and whispered, "Italians always complain about the bad air."
    After dinner, Diana asked me to take a picture of her and Kirk and the boys. As they jostled into