Teri and I exchanged a look. She was catlike—silent and stealthy, which unsettled me, because it was a trait I attributed to serial killers. I preferred hanging out with people whose footsteps I could hear. Maybe we’d find a place that sold pregnancy kitsandbells. Or clogs.
We seized the opportunity to break away when the group stopped to sample spoon sweets at a bakery. “Teri and I are going to head over that way.” I pointed in the opposite direction. “How about we meet you back here in an hour?”
“It’s not safe to wander off on your own,” Dolly said, but George waved us off.
“Go, but don’t be late,” he said.
We hadn’t gone too far when Teri stopped. “I need to use the bathroom. You think they’ll let me?” She pointed to the taverna before us.
“Maybe we should buy something.” You can’t just use the facilities and skip out. Our neighbor, Shoo Lin, had a sign at the entrance of her restaurant:You no fee, you no pee.
I got us a table while Teri went to the bathroom. I ordered one of the mezes the waiter recommended—a creamy fava bean puree, topped with bite-sized pieces of chicken, simmered in wine and bay leaves.
“So good.” Teri dug in when she returned.
“Delicious,” I agreed.
We finished it in record time and signaled for the bill.
“I think it’s the way they grill the octopus that makes it so good,” Teri said.
“What?” I blinked.
“The charcoal. It gives it a whole different flavor.”
“Before that.” I gestured, rewinding with my hands. “Did you say octopus? I thought it was chicken.”
“Definitely octopus.”
“I just had octopus?” It didn’t taste like octopus, or rather, what I imagined octopus would taste like. “I didn’t see any suckers.”
“It was chopped up pretty fine. My husbandlovesoctopus. Haven’t you had it before?” Teri followed as I made a beeline for the door.
I just ate octopus.
Gross.
And then, as I walked past all the tentacles draped over the railing of the terrace, I felt guilty for calling them gross.Sorry,I apologized to each cephalopod.Sorry for calling you names and eating you. Which was weird, because I didn’t apologize to cows or chickens or fish, and I ate them too. Maybe because I’d grown up eating them, and now my circle of carnivorous tendencies had expanded to yet another species.Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.
We passed a waiter, sweeping mounds of squashed figs off the street. Teri tugged at my sleeve. “Over there.” She pointed to a rusty sign—a green cross against a white background.
A pharmacy.
Yes!
It was dimly lit, with merchandise stacked neatly on wooden shelves, but everything was arranged randomly—as if space had been made for it as it had come in.
“Oh, my husband wouldlovethose.” Teri pointed toward the back of the store and took off, abandoning me in our quest to locate a pregnancy test for Isabelle.
I glanced at my watch. It would be easier to ask one of the store clerks but asking for a pregnancy test was a bit like asking for condoms. You always threw in a couple of unnecessary things to distract the cashier or the person in line behind you, so it didn’t seem like you came injustfor the condoms.I’m about to have sex, everyone! Asking for a pregnancy test declared,I had sex, everyone!It’s even worse when you’re in a foreign place, without a ring on your finger, and you’re hoping there’s no ancient by-law that would get you stoned in the village square.
I smiled at the cashier—a stout woman with grizzled skin and kind eyes, as I rounded one of the aisles. There, against the wall, was a selection of condoms.
My eyes darted around. The pregnancy tests had to be near. Or maybe not. I had to think like the storekeeper. Maybe the pregnancy tests were with under-eye creams, because dark circles would follow sleepless nights, once the baby was born.Just please, please don’t let the pregnancy tests be locked up in one of those glass case cabinets.
I walked down the entire section with no luck. Another glance at my watch told me we were running out of time. Isabelle’s pregnancy test would have to wait until we got to the next port, then she could go get it herself.
Just as I made up my mind to leave, I saw a couple of pregnancy tests hanging from a hook, next to other things that needed to be hung from hooks. Thermometers. Walking canes. Nail clippers.
