"Imagine the scene is sexy, like Tarzan and Jane."
" No, I really mean, even though we've been together relatively recently, Matt has stolen my soul."
“it's amazing seeing you so happy! I'm really happy for you, I can't wait to come home, you'll have to introduce me to the band."
“To the band? Or to Dean?"
“Oh, come on, the band. I'm not so desperate to chase a boy."
"Uh..." I reply laughing, "in less than two weeks they will be in LA for the last concert of the season; do you want a backstage pass?"
"Oh my God, yes!"
I burst out laughing. “Sorry what did you do with the girl who wasn't desperate?"
“Oh, stop it. Dancing with him that night was great. I still feel his hands on me."
"He's single from what I know."
"Not for long, Angel, believe me," she says, laughing.
They would be a nice couple, who knows.
"I got you the catalogs of the new collections, I have to redo your wardrobe when I get home."
“Oh my God, again? I still have clothes with the tags, Kate."
"Fashion changes and you have an image to maintain."
"Okay, you have carte blanche as always," I snorted, rolling my eyes.
Having your best friend as a personal shopper means trouble. Four times a year she renews my wardrobe, driving me crazy.
Kate tells me about Milan, how many wonderful and extravagant dresses she has seen for me, which makes me smile. I often have the feeling of being her personal barbie.
I take a box, still with things to fix and I bump into the other, making it fall.
"Hey, are you okay?" Kate asks worriedly hearing the noise I made.
"Yes, sorry, I left two boxes to be placed calmly and one fell and scattered the documents all over the place."
"You're always so clumsy."
“And I always will be, that's why you adore me. At least I make you laugh, "I told her, gathering the documents scattered on the floor. Removing a folder, my pill blister comes out and I freeze.
"Well, doll, now I have to leave you, I have to go and have an aperitif in the gallery with the others."
"Have fun honey," I say, or at least I think I did. Seeing the blister still halfway full seems strange to me. I open the app I use to track my period and I get stuck. I call Vanessa, a friend, and my gynecologist, who answers almost immediately.
"Hi honey, wait a minute I'm in the studio."
"Okay," I tell her, counting the days. Fuck!
"Here I am. Good morning sweetie, how are you?" she asks, but I hear her distant voice.
"Angel, are you still there?" she asks again.
"Yes ... yes I'm sorry."
