Story and Art Forum

When I had kidney stones, I had the whole urgency thing going on. I hated it because I would try to go, and get little if anything, with a touch of blood in it.  Then, after about five or ten minutes, I'd be doing the peepee dance in front of a guest I was checking in. Thankfully, they understood and we kept the interaction and check in quick. I think that was back in 2012. I haven't had any issues since (Knock on wood.) Hopefully, you'll be feeling better soon.

Chapter 27 Not for Much Longer Aino had stopped counting how many times Emma had changed her diaper. At first she had counted every one. The first had been unbearable enough that she had spent most of it staring at the ceiling and wishing she could temporarily leave her body somewhere else. The second had been merely awful. By the fourth or fifth, embarrassment had settled into something more manageable, an inconvenience rather than a catastrophe. This morning was different. Emma worked through the familiar routine quietly, telling Aino what she was doing before she did it. She cleaned her gently, slid the fresh diaper beneath her and fastened the tapes one by one, smoothing the front into place when she was done. Aino had expected the usual embarrassment. Instead, as the soft padding settled around her and Emma pulled the blanket back over her legs, she felt something else. Warmth. Safety. The diaper was clean and soft against her skin, the blanket warm above it, and for once Aino didn't immediately wish she could take care of everything herself. There was something unexpectedly comforting about simply lying there and letting someone take care of her for a moment. Emma gave the edge of the blanket a small, unnecessary pat. “There. All done.” “Thank you.” “You're welcome.” Aino waited for Emma to step away. She didn't. Emma was still standing beside the bed, gathering the wipes and the rolled-up diaper and placing them on the small hospital cart she had brought with her. A strand of brown hair had escaped from behind her ear and was hanging beside her face. She blew at it once without success. Aino watched her. Emma noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was definitely a something look.” “I don't have a something look.” “You have several.” Aino considered this. “How many?” “At least three” “That seems excessive.” “I haven't finished the study yet.” Aino smiled. That was when she realised something slightly alarming. She had liked that. Not the wet diaper. Certainly not needing another adult to change it. She would still have preferred two functioning arms and the ability to manage her own underwear. But the change itself had been... Aino searched for the correct word and rejected several. Nice was clearly wrong. Except it wasn't entirely wrong. Emma had smiled at her while fastening the fresh diaper, that same gentle little smile she sometimes gave Aino when she was being particularly difficult about accepting help. There had been something strangely comforting about it. For just a moment, lying there in a clean diaper while Emma took care of everything, Aino had felt small. Not helpless. Just small and safe. And somewhere between Emma asking her to lift her hips and pulling the blanket back over her afterwards, Aino had stopped waiting for it to be over. That was new. Possibly concerning. Emma glanced down at her. “Better?” “Yes.” “Good.” Emma smiled. “You look much happier now.” “I wasn't unhappy before.” “You were sulking.” “I don't sulk.” “Of course not.” Aino narrowed her eyes. “You're making fun of me.” “Maybe a little.” “That's very unprofessional.” Emma leaned slightly closer, still smiling. “Are you going to report me?” Aino looked at her. “I haven't decided yet.” “Should I try to persuade you not to?” There was just enough playfulness in Emma's voice that Aino suddenly wasn't entirely sure what they were talking about anymore. “Maybe.” Emma's smile widened. From the other side of the curtain came Oskari's voice. “Are you two flirting?” Aino's face became hot. “No.” “Because it really sounds like you're flirting.” “We're not.” Emma straightened. “For the record, I was negotiating against a formal complaint.” “Very professionally,” Oskari said. Aino pulled the blanket a little higher. “Nobody asked you.” Oskari was sitting on the edge of his bed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, surrounded by considerably more possessions than Aino had realised he owned. His backpack lay open beside him, and he was attempting to force a charger, two books and what appeared to be an entire bag of sweets into it. “Sounded like flirting.” “It wasn't.” Emma glanced at Aino, and for one horrifying second Aino thought she was going to contribute. Instead she picked up the bag of used supplies. “I'm staying out of this.” “You started it,” Aino said. Emma's smile widened. Then she left. Aino watched the door close behind her. When she looked back, Oskari was grinning. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “You were going to.” “I was thinking something.” “Stop that too.” “I don't think nurses are allowed to prescribe that.” Aino picked up Bunny from beside her pillow and placed him deliberately on her lap. Oskari returned to his packing, still looking much too pleased with himself. “You're annoying.” “Not for much longer.” That took some of the humour out of the room. Aino looked at the open backpack. “Tomorrow?” “Tomorrow.” He said it with the satisfaction of someone announcing his release from prison. “They confirmed it this morning. One more set of blood tests, antibiotics today, and assuming I don't spontaneously explode before breakfast, I'm free.” “Did the doctor use the phrase spontaneously explode?” “No, but I could tell he was thinking it.” Aino looked around his side of the room. His table had already been cleared of most of the rubbish that had accumulated there, and his clothes were folded into an untidy pile on the chair. Even the ridiculous collection of charging cables had mostly disappeared into his backpack. “You've packed already.” “I've been here forever.” “You've been here less than two weeks.” “Exactly. Forever.” “You said you don't remember the first few days.” “That makes it worse. They've stolen part of my life.” “The infection did that.” “I'm blaming the hospital.” Aino smiled despite herself. Oskari had been talking about leaving for days, but until now it had remained theoretical. Tomorrow had always meant some vague point in the future when his blood tests were good enough and the doctors stopped finding reasons to keep him. Now his bag was packed. Aino looked down at Bunny and adjusted one of his ears. She was happy for him. “You'll miss me,” Oskari said. “No.” “You're already sad.” “I'm looking at a rabbit.” “You look at the rabbit when you don't want people to know what you're thinking.” Aino looked up sharply. Oskari pointed at her with a packet of gummy bears. “I've been studying you too.” “That is invasive.” “I've had nothing else to do.” Aino considered throwing Bunny at him, but Bunny had done nothing to deserve that. “I might miss you a little,” she admitted. Oskari smiled. “I'll miss you too.” For once, he didn't make a joke afterwards. The silence that followed was comfortable. Oskari went back to trying to fit too many things into too little space, and Aino listened to the familiar sounds of the ward beyond their room. After a minute, Oskari stopped moving. Aino didn't notice immediately. When she did, he was sitting very still with one hand pressed against the lower part of his abdomen. “What's wrong?” “Nothing.” “That isn't your nothing face.” “I have a nothing face?” “Yes.” “How many faces do I have?” “This isn't funny.” Oskari breathed out slowly. “Stomach hurts a bit.” Aino watched him. “How much is a bit?” “Maybe four.” “Out of ten?” “Out of twelve.” “Oskari.” He smiled, but it didn't look right. “It's probably nothing. I've been eating hospital food for two weeks. My digestive system has finally filed a formal complaint.” He stood up. Then stopped. His hand went to the bed rail. Aino straightened. “Oskari?” “Okay.” He sat down again. The colour had changed in his face. Not dramatically. He wasn't collapsing or crying out. He simply looked paler than he had thirty seconds earlier, and there was a tightness around his mouth that hadn't been there before. Aino reached for the call button. Oskari saw her. “Wait.” “No.” “Aino—” She pressed it. “You're irritatingly decisive.” “Yes.” A nurse arrived less than a minute later. It wasn't Emma, which disappointed Aino for a reason she decided not to examine. Oskari described the pain with considerably less seriousness than Aino thought it deserved. The nurse asked questions, pressed carefully on his abdomen and watched his face. That was enough to make the joking stop. “I'm going to get the doctor.” Oskari nodded. When she left, he lay back against the pillows. “Probably murdered my discharge.” “You don't know that.” “That's unusually optimistic for you.” “I can stop.” “Please don't.” Aino watched him close his eyes. His packed backpack remained open beside the bed. ***** The doctor came ten minutes later. By then Oskari's temperature had begun to rise. At first Aino watched the examination from her bed, trying not to make it obvious that she was watching. The doctor pressed different places on Oskari's abdomen, asked him where it hurt and whether the pain had moved, then asked many of the same questions the nurse already had. Oskari's answers became less amusing as the examination went on. Eventually the doctor pulled the curtain closed. Blood was taken. Someone brought an IV bag. Another nurse appeared, then disappeared again. Aino heard words she understood individually but couldn't assemble into anything useful. Inflammatory markers. Blood pressure. Imaging. Source. When they finally wheeled Oskari away, he lifted one hand towards Aino. “Don't let them steal my gummy bears.” “Nobody wants your gummy bears.” “That's what a thief would say.” Then he was gone. His backpack remained on the chair. For almost two hours, nothing happened. Or rather, things happened constantly, but none of them happened where Aino could see them. She tried reading. She managed the same paragraph four times. She tried watching something on her phone and discovered after several minutes that she had no idea what she was watching. Emma came in shortly after two. Aino knew something was wrong before she said anything. Emma usually moved as though every action had already been decided before she entered the room. Today she came through the door, stopped, then seemed to remember why she had come. “Have you heard anything?” Aino asked. Emma shook her head. “Not yet.” She walked over to Oskari's empty bed and straightened the blanket. It didn't need straightening. Aino watched her. “You're worried.” Emma looked over. “Of course I'm worried.” “No. You're worried differently.” For a second Emma seemed about to dismiss it. Then she sat down on the edge of the empty chair. “I haven't been doing this very long.” Aino frowned. “Nursing?” Emma nodded. “How long?” “Five months.” Aino had expected a much larger number. “You seem like you know what you're doing.” “That's encouraging.” “I meant it.” “I know.” Emma looked at Oskari's bed. “I've seen sick patients. Obviously. And I knew when I chose this job that sometimes people get worse instead of better.” She rubbed her palms against her trousers. “But he was getting better.” “He was going home tomorrow.” “Exactly.” Aino understood. Oskari wasn't supposed to be the frightening patient. He was the one who walked around the corridor, complained about the food and talked too much. The one whose blood tests were improving. Emma looked towards the door. “They'll find out what's wrong.” Aino wasn't sure whether Emma was telling her or herself. “They will,” she said. Emma looked at her. Aino nodded once, because apparently that was what they were doing now. “They will.” Oskari came back to the room shortly before four. Aino knew something had changed before he said anything. He looked worse than when he had left. The easy colour had disappeared from his face, leaving his skin pale and slightly grey, and there was an IV in his arm now. He moved carefully as the nurse helped him back into bed, one hand hovering near his stomach as though even touching it might hurt. But he was awake. He waited until the nurse had left before looking across at Aino. “They're operating.” Aino stared at him. She had known something was wrong. She had watched the nurses come and go, had seen the doctor return twice, had listened to fragments of conversations she wasn't supposed to hear. Still, the word landed harder than she expected. “Today?” “Apparently I'm very popular all of a sudden.” He tried to smile. It didn't quite work. Aino wanted to ask what they had found, how serious it was, whether he was frightened. There were too many questions, and none of them seemed like questions Oskari wanted to answer. So she asked the simplest one. “When?” “Soon.” Less than ten minutes later, his family arrived. They came into the room together: his mother first, his father close behind her, and between them a little girl Aino immediately recognised as the sister she had heard so much about. She looked about six, bundled into a winter coat that seemed slightly too large for her, her hair flattened on one side where a hat had recently been. Oskari's mother went straight to the bed. She bent down and kissed his forehead, then kept one hand against the side of his face. Oskari tolerated it without complaint, which somehow worried Aino more than anything else had. “It's all right,” his mother said. “We're here.” “I noticed.” His father moved to the other side of the bed and rested a hand on Oskari's shoulder. He seemed determined to look calm. “You'll get through this.” Oskari nodded. “That's the plan.” “You've always been stubborn.” “I learned from you.” His father's mouth twitched. “Exactly. So use it.” Oskari's mother made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. The little girl hadn't moved. She stood near the foot of the bed, watching her brother with an expression that didn't seem to belong on such a young face. Oskari noticed her. “Hey.” She came a little closer. “Hey.” “You're supposed to be at play-school.” “It's finished.” “Oh. Good. I was going to report you.” Usually, Aino thought, that would probably have worked. This time the girl didn't smile. Oskari's expression changed. “Come here.” She walked the rest of the way to him. Oskari held out his hand, careful of the IV in his arm, and she took it in both of hers. Her hands looked impossibly small around his. For several seconds she said nothing. The adults seemed to be waiting for her to speak, perhaps expecting a question about the operation or when Oskari would be coming home. Instead her face crumpled. “Don't die.” Oskari blinked. His father looked down. “I'm not planning to.” “Don't.” She squeezed his hand harder. “Dying is horrible. Grandpa died and I miss him. Don't die.” The room became completely still. Oskari's mother covered her mouth. Aino looked at Oskari. Until then, everyone had been speaking the careful language adults used around frightening things. You'll get through this. That's the plan. Soon. His sister hadn't learned that language yet. She had simply said the frightening thing out loud. Oskari looked at her for a long moment. Then he managed a small smile. “Okay.” “You promise?” Something moved across his face. “I promise I'll do my best.” It wasn't quite what she had asked for. Perhaps even she understood that. She climbed closer and put both arms around him. Oskari closed his eyes and held her against him with his free arm. Aino turned towards the window. She suddenly felt like an intruder. Outside, the afternoon was already beginning to darken. The glass reflected part of the hospital room back at her: the edge of her own bed, the white bulk of one cast, indistinct figures gathered around Oskari. She kept looking outside until she heard the little girl sniff. When Aino finally turned back, Oskari's mother was smoothing his hair away from his forehead. His father still had one hand on his shoulder. His sister was pressed against his side. And Emma was standing near the door. She must have arrived without Aino noticing. She wasn't looking at Aino. She was looking at Oskari and his family. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her. They came for Oskari shortly afterwards. His family walked with the bed as far as they were allowed. His father kept talking to him about completely ordinary things, as though conversation itself might hold everything together. His mother held his hand. His sister walked beside them. Just before they reached the door, Oskari looked towards Aino. “Hey.” Aino looked up. “My gummy bears.” Despite everything, she smiled. “They'll be here.” “You'd better count them.” “I already did.” That made him laugh. It wasn't much of a laugh, but it was Oskari's. “Of course you did.” “Good luck.” “Thanks.” Then they took him away. The room became very quiet. Emma remained by the door after everyone else had gone. Aino watched her. “He looked pretty good,” Emma said. Aino knew what she meant. Considering. Considering the fever. Considering the pain. Considering the infection. Considering the fact that people were about to cut him open. “Yes,” Aino said. “He did.” Emma nodded. “He's young. And they found the source.” “Yes.” “They know what they're doing.” A ski jumper hung above the white slope. For one impossible second he seemed completely still. Then gravity remembered him. Jan Mikael Savola leaned forward in his chair as the Norwegian dropped towards the landing hill, skis opening beneath him. The commentator's voice rose. Elisa folded the tissue once. Then again. “I used to know before the door even opened.” Her therapist said nothing. Elisa looked up. The silence stretched between them. She knew by now that it was deliberate. “I hate it when you do that.” “I know.” Mikko turned another page. The police officer beside him stopped him with one finger halfway down the sheet. “This payment. Do you recognise it?” Mikko looked at the date. “Yes.” “What was it for?” Mikko was quiet for a moment. “I don't know.” The officer looked at him. “But you approved it.” Mikko looked back at the paper. “Yes.” The Norwegian touched down. One ski slid ahead of the other. For a moment he wavered. Then he held the landing. The crowd erupted. Savola watched the numbers appear on the screen. First place. The Norwegian raised both fists. Savola frowned. “Perkele.” He picked up the remote and turned the television off.   It was after nine when Emma came back. Aino had been awake the entire time. She had tried reading, but the same paragraph had remained open on her phone for nearly an hour. She had tried watching television without the sound. She had even tried sleeping, closing her eyes and telling herself that there was nothing she could do and therefore no reason to remain awake. None of it had worked. Oskari's bed was still empty. His backpack sat on the chair beside it, packed and half zipped. One of the straps had fallen to the floor. The bag of gummy bears he had been eating that morning was sticking out of the side pocket. Tomorrow, he had said. Tomorrow he was going home. Aino heard footsteps in the corridor and looked towards the door. Emma appeared. Aino knew before she said anything. There was no dramatic reason for knowing. Emma wasn't crying. She wasn't running. Nobody followed her into the room. She simply walked differently. More slowly than usual, as though every step had required a decision before she could take it. Aino put her phone down. Emma stopped beside Oskari's empty bed.For a moment she just stood there. Her eyes moved to the backpack. Something in her face changed. Then she looked at Aino. “Aino.” Her voice was enough. Aino felt something inside her go very still. Emma pulled the chair away from the wall and brought it beside Aino's bed. She sat down, but instead of looking at Aino, she looked at her own hands. Aino waited. “Oskari died.” The words entered the room and seemed to change its size. Aino looked at the empty bed. “No.” Emma swallowed. “I'm sorry.” “No.” It wasn't disagreement. Aino knew that. Emma wouldn't come into the room and say something like that unless it was true. But the word came again anyway. “No.” Emma's fingers tightened together. “The operation went reasonably well at first. They drained the abscess and treated the source of the infection. He was taken to intensive care afterwards and...” She stopped and drew a careful breath. “His blood pressure started falling. They couldn't stabilise him.” Aino stared at her. “He was septic. Much more severely than they realised before the operation. His lungs started failing, and then his kidneys. They tried—” Emma's voice broke. She stopped. Aino waited for her to continue. Emma looked down again. “They tried for a long time.” “Was his family there?” “Yes.” The answer came immediately. “His parents were there. And his sister.” Aino closed her eyes. Don't die. She could still hear the little girl's voice. Grandpa died and I miss him. So don't die. “Was he awake?” “No.” Emma shook her head. “He never woke up after the operation.” Aino opened her eyes again. For some reason, that helped. Only a little. At least Oskari hadn't woken up frightened in a strange room and discovered that he was dying. He hadn't had to understand what was happening. His last conscious hours had contained his parents and his little sister and probably some stupid joke that hadn't been nearly as funny as he thought it was. Aino looked towards his bed. His pillow had already been straightened. That seemed wrong. “He was going home tomorrow.” “I know.” “He packed.” “I know.” Emma's voice cracked on the second word. Aino looked at her properly. Until then she had been looking at Emma as though Emma were part of what had happened. Someone who had come to tell her the facts because that was what nurses did. Now she saw her. Emma's eyes were red. She was trying very hard not to cry. “I really thought he'd be okay,” Emma said. Aino didn't answer. “He was getting better. His blood tests were better. He was walking around. He was complaining about everything.” A breath escaped Emma that might have been the beginning of a laugh if it hadn't broken halfway through. “This morning he asked me whether being medically annoying could delay his discharge.” Aino's throat tightened. “That sounds like him.” “He was talking to us.” Emma was speaking faster now. “He was making jokes. He was supposed to go home tomorrow. He was going to take his sister skating and I—” “Emma.” “I know this happens. I know people can deteriorate quickly with sepsis. I know we did everything we were supposed to do, but he looked so much better and I thought—” “Emma.” She stopped. Aino had never seen her like this. Emma was always the person who knew what happened next. When Aino woke frightened, Emma explained where she was. When Aino couldn't manage something with her casts, Emma asked whether she wanted help. When Aino tensed beneath her hands, Emma stopped. Emma waited. Emma knew. Now she looked very young. Not like Aino's nurse. Just Emma. “I really thought he'd be okay,” she whispered. “I know.” A tear escaped before Emma could stop it. She wiped it away quickly. “Sorry.” Aino frowned. “For what?” Emma gave a tiny, helpless movement of her shoulders. “This isn't very professional.” Something about that made Aino's chest hurt. “Oskari is dead.” Emma looked at her. “I think you're allowed to be sad.” Another tear followed the first. Emma turned her face away. Aino watched her struggle for several seconds. Then she understood what she wanted to do. “Come here.” Emma looked back at her. “What?” “Come here.” “Aino...” Emma glanced at the casts. “Your arms.” “They're broken. They're not going to fall off.” Under any other circumstances, Emma might have smiled. This time her mouth only trembled. “Aino, you don't have to take care of me.” “I know.” The answer came so quickly that Emma went still. Aino shifted awkwardly towards the edge of the bed. “I want to.” Emma looked at her for a long moment. Then she stood. She hesitated beside the bed, as though there were still some rule she was trying to remember. Aino lifted her arms as far as the casts allowed. It wasn't much of an embrace. Emma had to do most of the moving herself, bending carefully over the bed and avoiding the IV line. Aino couldn't properly wrap her arms around her. She could only rest the heavy white casts against Emma's back and press her cheek against Emma's hair. For several seconds, Emma remained rigid. Then something gave way. Aino felt it happen before she heard it. Emma's shoulders shook. A small, strangled sound escaped her, and suddenly she was crying properly, her face pressed against Aino's shoulder. Aino held her as well as she could. She had no idea what she was supposed to say. Usually there were correct words for things. Or at least words that people expected. I'm sorry. It wasn't your fault. Everything will be all right. None of them seemed useful. Everything was not going to be all right. Oskari was dead. His little sister had told him not to die, and he had died anyway. So Aino rested her cheek against Emma's hair. “It's okay,” she whispered. Emma shook her head against her. “No, it isn't.” Aino closed her eyes. “No,” she said. “It isn't.” They stayed like that. Aino didn't know how long. Emma cried until the worst of it had passed, and Aino said nothing else. She simply remained there, her casts resting awkwardly against Emma's back. Eventually Aino opened her eyes. Over Emma's shoulder, she could see Oskari's side of the room. The bed was made. The bedside table was empty. His backpack was still sitting on the chair. Packed for tomorrow. Aino remembered him pointing a packet of gummy bears at her and announcing that he had been studying her. She remembered telling him he was annoying. Not for much longer. She hadn't known. Neither of them had known. Tomorrow Oskari's family would come for the backpack. His mother might carry it. Or his father. Perhaps his little sister would recognise the sweets sticking out of the side pocket and remember that they belonged to her brother. Tomorrow someone would remove the last things that proved Oskari had expected to leave this room alive. But tonight the backpack was still there and Emma was crying in Aino's arms. Aino held her as well as she could.  

Book 2 – Chapter 28: Addio, Toscana   “Are you going to sleep all afternoon?” Erika pushed open the door. Sally blinked awake.  For half a second, neither of them moved. Erika stood frozen in the doorway, eyes widening as she realized two things at once: Sally was awake, and Sally was very definitely not wearing pajamas. Not even a shirt. “Scusi!” The word came out almost as a squeak. “Forgot to knock.” She vanished into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind her. Sally stared at the closed door in a sleepy daze. Then she let her head fall back against the pillow. “Wonderful.” She rubbed both hands over her face and forced herself properly awake. Her fingers wandered automatically through her shag, flattening one side and making the other worse. When she pushed herself upright, the soft crinkle beneath her reminded her exactly what Erika had just seen. The diaper was wet. Of course it was. Sally sat there for another moment, blinking at the room. She had slept a little over two hours. Long enough that Erika checking on her wasn’t unreasonable. Erika barging into her room without knocking was hardly unprecedented either. The circumstances were simply unfortunate. Very unfortunate. Sally glanced down at herself. She wondered, briefly, whether the whole thing was actually more embarrassing for Erika than it was for her. That thought made her smile despite herself. She found her T-shirt on the floor, pulled it over her head, then spotted her sweatpants near the chair. She tugged them on over the wet diaper—not because she intended to stay that way for long, but because walking into Erika’s room in only a T-shirt seemed unnecessarily adventurous. Then she opened the door. Erika was sitting on her own bed. Sally shuffled across the hall and leaned against the doorway. “I’m awake.” Erika glanced up, then immediately found something interesting about the blanket beside her. “Ti sei riposata?” “Yeah.” Sally kept her voice gentle. “I did.” Erika finally looked at her. “Do you feel better?” Sally considered it. “Tired. But better, I think.” Erika nodded. Then silence. That was unusual enough to make Sally watch her for a moment. Erika fiddled with the edge of the bedspread. Sally understood. She could have made things easy by joking about it. For once, she decided not to. “May I sit with you?” Erika nodded and shifted over. Sally crossed the room and sat beside her. For a few seconds, neither said anything. Then Sally nudged Erika lightly with her shoulder. “You really do need to learn how doors work.” Erika groaned and covered her face. “I know.” Sally smiled. “And knocking.” “I know.” “And perhaps waiting for an answer.” Erika looked at her through her fingers. “Are you going to make a list?” “I’m considering it.” That finally brought out a small laugh. Sally relaxed beside her. There. Better. The friendly tension works because Sally doesn’t pretend she wasn’t embarrassed, but she also refuses to let the embarrassment create distance between them. -- “If I were a normal teenager, it would almost be fine,” Sally said. “Panties and a T-shirt? Whatever. Who cares?” Erika glanced at her cautiously. “But I wear diapers,” Sally continued. “And this afternoon I was apparently too exhausted even to put on the T-shirt.” She spread her hands. “So that’s how you found me.” Erika winced. “It will never happen again.” Sally studied her expression, then cracked a smile. “Well, there probably isn’t much more embarrassing than that, so I guess we’ve covered the worst.” Erika made a face. “There is naked.” Sally considered it. “Honestly? Naked might be less embarrassing than lying there in a wet diaper when you’re sixteen.” Erika thought about that much more seriously than Sally expected. Then she nodded. “Okay. You’re right.” “Thank you.” “But you did look cute.” Sally closed her eyes. “Yeah. So I’ve heard.” Erika grinned. Sally gave her a warning look. “You are enjoying this too much.” “A little.” Sally nudged her with an elbow. Erika glanced down at the sweatpants Sally had pulled on. “And you’re still wearing it?” Sally nodded. “Lazy.” “That is adorable.” “I came here to make sure you weren’t traumatized. Changing can wait.” Erika laughed. “Very noble.” “I’m an excellent friend.” “The best.” Sally smiled. The awkwardness had mostly disappeared now, which was exactly what she had wanted. Erika reached for her phone. “Good. Then let me show you the video I posted.” Sally’s expression changed immediately. “What video?” “The Fiat.” “On what?” “My Instagram.” Sally stared at her. “Oh, my.” Erika was already unlocking the phone. “You look very adventurous.” “That word again.” “And dirty.” “Erika.” “And very happy.” Sally sighed and leaned closer despite herself. “Fine. Show me what damage you’ve done.” -- Erika held the phone between them. “Look.” Sally leaned closer. The video opened with her crouched beside the Fiat, hair falling into her face as she wrestled the old battery free. Then a cut. Sally at Fabrizio’s, examining the replacement battery with an expression of exaggerated seriousness. Another cut. Her hands blackened around the knuckles. Another. The first attempt to start the engine. Rrr-rrr-rrr... Then Erika’s caption appeared across the screen. SALLY WEISS RESCUES AN OLD FIAT FROM TUSCANY    Sally groaned. “You did not.” “I did.” The video continued. Sally laughing when the horn worked. The engine coughing. Her leaning forward over the steering wheel, concentrating. Then the moment it finally caught. “YES!” Giorgio clapping. Lorenzo shouting from the terrace. Sally honking triumphantly. And finally a shot of her driving slowly down the dirt road, one hand high on the thin steering wheel, grinning like she had just won Le Mans. Erika had ended it with a still photograph of Sally leaning against the freshly rinsed Fiat, arms folded, grease still visible on one cheek.   New owner. First classic.   Sally stared. “That picture is terrible.” “It is perfect.” “My hair looks insane.” “You were repairing a car.” “I was changing a battery.” “You resurrected it.” “I added gasoline.” “Details.” Sally reached for the phone. “How many people have seen this?” Erika pulled it away. “No.” “Erika.” “Don’t worry.” That was exactly the wrong answer. Sally narrowed her eyes. “How many?” Erika checked. Her eyebrows went up. “Oh.” Sally’s stomach dropped. “What does ‘oh’ mean?” “Nothing.” “Give me the phone.” Erika surrendered it. Sally looked. Then blinked. “That cannot be right.” The number kept climbing. Comments were appearing faster than she could comfortably read them.   Wait—is that actually Sally Weiss?   She owns a Lamborghini and she’s fixing a Fiat 127    The grease on her face    This is the most Italian thing I’ve seen today.   Imagine being a billionaire heiress and getting excited because an old Fiat starts.   Protect this car at all costs.   Forget the yacht. We want Fiat content.   Sally covered her mouth. “Oh no.” Erika was laughing. Another comment appeared.   SALLY WEISS HAS ENTERED HER MECHANIC ERA   Sally collapsed backward onto the bed. “No.” “Yes.” “No mechanic era.” Erika scrolled. “Oh, this one is good.” “I don’t want to know.”   “‘She looked happier starting that Fiat than getting photographed on a superyacht.’”   Sally stopped. Then slowly looked at Erika. “That might actually be true.” Erika smiled triumphantly. “I knew it.” Sally took the phone again. There she was. Probably one of the most photographed teenagers in the world, famous enough that strangers analyzed her clothes, vacations, friendships and facial expressions. And apparently the internet had decided that the most interesting thing she had done all summer was kneel beside a forty-year-old Fiat with dirty fingernails. Sally began to laugh. “Dad is going to see this before I tell him about the car.” Erika’s eyes widened. “Oh.” Sally pointed at her. “That ‘oh’ is worse.” Erika bit her lip. “Maybe you should call him.” Sally looked at the video again. The little blue Fiat filled the screen. She smiled despite herself. “After I change.” Erika glanced toward the sweatpants. “Probably wise.” Sally gave her a flat look. “Don’t start.” Erika grinned. “Crinkle-crinkle.” Sally grabbed the pillow. This time Erika was ready. -- Sally was still in her diaper when her father called. She glanced at the screen, smiled, and answered. “Hey, Dad.” “Hi, Liebling. How’s the holiday?” “Great. Having a blast. Food, pool parties...” Sally stretched out across the bed. “We’re going to Florence tomorrow for the day.” “Right. And then home the next day.” Adrian paused. “I hope that doesn’t feel too soon. We miss you.” “I wouldn’t mind staying longer,” Sally admitted. “But I miss you too.” “You miss Oskar. But thank you for including me.” “Dad...” He chuckled. “Don’t worry, Sally. You’re sixteen. You’re allowed to suspend your affection for your parents occasionally.” Sally smiled. “How’s Mom? And Oskar?” “Missing you. For real.” There was a brief pause. “I hear you’ve been busy.” Something about his tone made Sally suspicious. “They keep us busy around here.” “U-huh.” Sally narrowed her eyes at nothing. “What does u-huh mean?” “Oh, nothing. Playing with other people’s cars?” Sally sat up slightly. “Has Lorenzo talked to you?” “No.” Adrian sounded interested now. “Is there something Lorenzo should be talking to me about?” Sally pressed her lips together. “You mentioned cars. What exactly do you know?” “Your mother just showed me a video. Apparently my daughter is repairing an old Fiat somewhere in Tuscany.” “Yeah.” Sally rubbed her forehead. “About that...” “Did you actually make it run?” That sounded less accusatory and more genuinely curious. “It only needed a new battery and some fresh fuel. Well, probably more than that eventually. It needs a proper check, and the brakes sound a little rough, but it runs really well.” There was a short silence. “Are you telling me you bought an old Fiat?” Sally laughed. “No. I’m telling you I got an old Fiat for free.” Another pause. “Well,” Adrian said carefully, “that is obviously much better.” “It cost me a battery and some fuel.” “For now.” Sally grinned. “Whose car is it?” “The Ferranos’. They’ve had it sitting here for years. Nobody was using it. I sort of...” She hesitated. “Fell in love with it.” Adrian made a quiet amused sound. “And?” “And Lorenzo said if I could get it running, I could have it.” Silence. Then Adrian laughed. Not a polite laugh. A genuine one. “Liebling, you do realize transporting that Fiat to Switzerland may cost more than the Fiat is worth?” “Uhm... yeah.” “Good.” “I could pay you back.” “How?” “Installments.” Adrian sighed theatrically. “I see.” “Very reasonable installments.” “Of course.” Sally could hear the smile in his voice. “You said Lorenzo intended to speak to me?” “He was going to. But Erika posted the video today, so I guess that sort of jumped the gun.” “It did.” Sally waited. “All right,” Adrian said. “Let me talk to Lorenzo. We’ll figure out what the car actually needs and what it takes to move it.” Sally brightened. “Thanks, Dad.” Another small pause. “You looked happy.” The teasing had disappeared from his voice. Sally’s smile softened. “I was.” “I could tell.” Adrian sounded pleased. “I like seeing you enjoy things, Sally.” She looked down at the bedsheet, running her fingertips along a wrinkle. “I enjoyed getting it back to life. Adam helped too. Sort of. He gave me some pointers.” “Hm.” Sally immediately recognized the sound. “What?” “Adam only brings trouble.” “Dad.” “First the Italian police descend upon him, and now he is providing technical support for your questionable automotive ventures.” “Dad!” Adrian laughed. “He is becoming a bad influence.” “He literally told me to check the battery and fuel.” “Exactly. It begins innocently.” Sally laughed and dropped backward against the pillow. “I’m telling Adam you said that.” “I expect you to.” “Good.” “Take care of yourself, Liebling. Have fun in Florence tomorrow. Your mother will probably call you later.” “Okay.” “And Sally?” “Yeah?” “Don’t buy anything else before you come home.” Sally stared at the ceiling. “I didn’t buy this one.” There was a moment of silence. “That,” Adrian said, “is not as reassuring as you think.” Sally burst out laughing. “Bye, Dad.” “Bye, Liebling.” “And thanks.” “Anytime.” The call ended. Sally lowered the phone onto her stomach and smiled. Apparently she owned a Fiat. And, even more surprisingly, her father seemed to be okay with it. -- Erika waited until the call ended, then flopped back onto the bed beside Sally. “So?” Sally set her phone down. “So what?” “Can you keep it?” Sally looked at her as if the answer were obvious. “Of course I can keep it. It’s not like my father doesn’t own a warehouse full of old cars.” She smiled. “This one is mine.” Erika considered that. “So you’re actually going to drive it?” “Of course.” “Not just keep it?” Sally frowned. “I don’t own garage queens.” Erika turned her head. “Garage queens?” “Cars people keep polished and perfect and never really drive.” “Oh.” Erika nodded slowly. “Like collectors.” “Some collectors.” “And you’re not one.” “Nope.” Erika rolled onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow. “Okay.” There was a pause. “Can we go downstairs now?” Sally looked at her. “Why?” Erika reached for Sally’s hand and inspected the damage. “Because these are terrible.” Sally looked down at her fingernails. Grease still lingered around the edges despite repeated washing, and several nails had definitely lost the battle with the Fiat. “Oh.” “You are going to Firenze tomorrow looking like this?” Sally shrugged. “I fixed a car.” “Yes. Very impressive. Now we fix you.” Sally laughed. “Fine.” She pushed herself upright and swung her legs toward the edge of the bed. Erika glanced down at the obvious bulk beneath Sally’s sweatpants. “But first, you may want to change your diaper.” Sally raised an eyebrow. “You mean out of it.” Erika shrugged. “Whatever suits you.” Sally stared at her. Then Erika added, with entirely too much innocence: “Need any help?” Sally almost choked on a laugh. “I can manage, thank you very much.” Erika burst out laughing. Sally shook her head. “You are starting to sound way too much like Katrina.” Erika placed a hand dramatically against her chest. “Latin blood.” Sally narrowed her eyes. “That is not an excuse.” “I’ll tell Katrina you said that.” “Please do.” “She’ll be proud.” “That’s exactly what worries me.” Erika hopped off the bed. “Change. Then nails.” Sally pointed toward the door. “And knock next time.” Erika stopped. Turned. Raised one hand solemnly. “I promise.” Sally waited. Erika grinned. “Probably.” Sally grabbed the nearest pillow. Erika escaped into the hallway laughing. -- It turned into a wonderfully uneventful afternoon. When Sally finally reappeared downstairs, she felt considerably more human. She had changed out of the diaper, showered in the tiny bathroom and spent a few minutes considering what counted as appropriate clothing when she had absolutely no intention of doing anything strenuous for the rest of the day. She settled on a pair of boys’ swimming trunks she had bought because they worked just as well as shorts—loose, comfortable, patterned with little colorful turtles—and, after some deliberation, a cropped T-shirt that threatened to show a strip of midriff whenever she stretched. Thong sandals completed the ensemble. Sally shook her shag into place with both hands, decided that was good enough, and headed downstairs. Nonna spotted her almost immediately. The older woman raised an eyebrow, inspected Sally from head to toe, then gave an approving nod. “Hai un aspetto migliore, cara ragazza.” Sally smiled. “Grazie. Ho dormito.” Nonna nodded as though this confirmed the effectiveness of the treatment she had personally prescribed, then shuffled back toward the kitchen. Sally found Erika in the living room establishing what appeared to be a complete nail salon across the coffee table. Bottles. Cotton pads. Files. Remover. Several shades of polish. Erika pointed toward the sofa. “Sit.” Sally obeyed. Before the operation could begin, Nonna returned carrying two tall glasses of lemonade. “Grazie, Nonna,” the girls chorused. Nonna smiled and disappeared again. And just like that, the day slowed down. Sally stretched comfortably into the sofa while Erika took possession of one of her hands and began repairing the damage inflicted by the Fiat. They talked without much purpose, drank lemonade, argued over nail colors and occasionally fell into companionable silence. At one point Giorgio poked his head through the doorway. He took one breath. The combined smell of nail-polish remover and fresh polish reached him. His face changed. “No.” He disappeared. Sally laughed. “He survived gasoline.” “Gasoline smells better,” Erika said matter-of-factly. Isabella joined them for a while, settling into a nearby chair as they discussed Florence. “You have everything planned?” “Not everything,” Erika said. “That would ruin it.” “We’ll walk,” Sally added. “Maybe the Galileo museum. Ponte Vecchio. Food.” “Shopping,” Erika inserted. “Apparently shopping.” Isabella smiled, then became slightly more serious. “Promise me you will not go wandering off on your own. I told Giorgio to stay with you.” Erika continued working on Sally’s nails as though the restriction concerned somebody else, although Sally caught the slight darkening of her expression. She answered before Erika could protest. “We won’t stray, Mrs. Ferrano.” Isabella stiffened. “Sally.” Sally looked up. “Call me Isabella. We are not American.” Erika immediately started laughing. Sally made a face. “I’m American.” “That is your problem.” Even Sally laughed at that. “Fine. Isabella.” “Bene.” Isabella nodded, satisfied. “Non è più facile?” “Yes. Isabella.” “Much better.” She stayed a few minutes longer before leaving them to their manicure. Erika waited until her mother was out of earshot. “I like your new style.” Sally glanced down at herself. “My style?” “The shag. The boy shorts.” Erika shrugged. “It suits you.” Sally smiled slightly. “You inspired the shorts.” Erika looked up. “Me?” “I like it when you wear them. They look...” Sally searched for the right word. “Less imposing.” Erika understood immediately. “Less on display.” “Exactly.” Erika nodded. “They’re comfortable. Loose.” She frowned faintly. “Everybody looks at my legs when I wear normal shorts.” Sally chuckled. “Well, you have nice legs.” Erika gave her a look. “But yeah,” Sally continued quickly, “I get it. I feel more relaxed in these. I should buy some more.” Erika glanced at the little pattern across Sally’s trunks. “I like the turtles.” Sally looked down and smiled. “I fell in love with them.” “Very elegant.” Erika finished one nail, inspected it critically and moved to the next. “Tomorrow, though, we wear something stylish.” Sally raised an eyebrow. “For walking around all day?” “For Firenze.” Erika said the name as though that explained everything. “Firenze deserves style.” Sally considered that solemnly. “Style it is.” Erika nodded, satisfied, and returned to Sally’s nails. Outside, Tuscany baked quietly beneath the afternoon sun. Inside, Sally sipped lemonade and let one of her best friends undo the damage caused by her first day as an amateur mechanic. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable way to spend a vacation. -- In the end, Sally chose the short flared blue skirt. She paired it with a simple white top, her white Converse, and, after staring at herself in the mirror for a moment, added the pink Gucci saddle bag almost as an afterthought. Erika appeared in the doorway and nodded approvingly. She had made a similar choice with the skirt, though her version of Florence elegance included a faded Guns N’ Roses T-shirt. The pink streak through her blond curls caught the light above the shaved side of her head. Sally looked from Erika to herself. “I feel overdressed.” Erika shook her head and planted both hands on her hips. “You are you. I am me.” Sally frowned at the mirror. “You said elegant.” “And you are.” “So this is my fault?” “And you look fabulous,” Erika added firmly. Sally gave up. “Fine.” The drive to Florence was pleasantly short. “One hour,” Giorgio announced as they pulled away from the farmhouse, one hand resting on the steering wheel and the other on the gear lever. “Maybe faster.” From the back seat, Erika repeated: “Maybe faster.” Her eye roll was audible. It was faster, although not enough to make Sally uncomfortable. Giorgio knew the roads too well to need navigation, slipping through the Tuscan countryside with the easy confidence of someone who had driven the route dozens of times. The scenery did most of the entertaining. Rolling hills, old stone houses, vineyards, little villages appearing around bends and disappearing again behind them. “We always go to Firenze,” Giorgio said, gesturing vaguely through the windshield, “when we come to the house.” “You say that like it’s the supermarket.” “For us, almost.” Erika nodded. “He’s spoiled.” “You are sitting in my car.” “For now.” Sally smiled and looked out the window. They parked outside the busiest part of the city and continued on foot. By the time they had stopped for coffee, eaten cornetti, and wandered far enough into the center to reach the Ponte Vecchio, it was nearly nine. Florence was already awake. Delivery vans squeezed through narrow streets. Scooters buzzed past ancient stone walls. Shopkeepers opened shutters while tourists began accumulating in little groups, maps and phones already raised. Sally checked the time. “The Galileo museum opens at nine.” “Good,” Erika said immediately. “We do that first before it gets crowded. Then we wander.” “Wander means shop,” Giorgio said. Erika looked at him. “Yes.” He accepted that. The Museo Galileo turned out to hold Sally’s attention considerably longer than Erika’s. She slowed in front of old astronomical instruments, globes, maps, measuring devices and carefully engineered mechanisms that had once represented the edge of human understanding. Giorgio seemed interested enough, especially when engineering and design entered the conversation. Erika tried, for a while. By the time they emerged into the sunlight again, she exhaled dramatically. “I swear, one more instrument of torture and I was going to throw up.” Sally stared at her. “They weren’t instruments of torture.” Erika turned. “There were medical things.” “Medical instruments.” “That does not make them better.” “They were part of advances in medicine.” Giorgio laughed. Erika shook her head. “I would have died young back then. Absolutely. No way anyone was using those things on me.” “They weren’t medieval,” Sally pointed out. “A lot of what we saw was Renaissance or later.” Erika waved a dismissive hand. “It looked old.” Sally blinked. “That is your historical classification?” “Old and very old.” Giorgio laughed again. “You complain about ignorant Americans.” Erika stopped. Then looked slowly at him. “Be careful.” “Look who is ignorant now.” Erika huffed, hooked her arm through Sally’s, and marched them both along the sidewalk. Modern scooters lined one side of the street. Ancient stone rose along the other. Florence managed, somehow, to make both seem perfectly normal. “Next stop,” Erika announced, “shopping.” Behind them, Giorgio shoved his hands into his pockets and followed. “Of course.” Sally smiled. Now Florence was beginning properly. -- Simply strolling through Florence like ordinary tourists was pleasant. They wandered without much of a plan, stopping when something caught their attention, doubling back when Erika remembered a shop she wanted to see, and pausing often enough that Giorgio never seemed particularly bothered by the pace. After the third clothing store, Sally finally took pity on him. “You don’t have to follow us through all of this.” Giorgio looked relieved enough that she laughed. “We’ll text you when we’re done.” “I will be nearby,” he said. “Drinking an espresso in peace.” “Coward,” Erika called after him. He waved without turning around. Left alone, the girls became considerably more dangerous. Erika made Sally try on clothes Sally would never have picked for herself. Sally retaliated by dragging Erika into fitting rooms with equally questionable enthusiasm. By the time they emerged again, both were carrying shopping bags and insisting that every purchase had been absolutely necessary. At least two items, according to Erika, had been impossible to leave behind. Sally was less convinced. The argument over who paid had been worse. Erika flatly refused to let Sally pay for her things. Sally, in turn, refused to let Erika exploit her superior Italian to get ahead of her at the register and pay for Sally’s. They eventually negotiated a treaty. Each girl paid for her own purchases. Each was allowed to buy exactly one thing for the other. Both immediately tried to redefine what counted as “one thing.” By lunchtime, they had mostly behaved. Mostly. They saved Giorgio’s gift for last. The three of them ended up at Osteria Nuvoli near the cathedral, descending into the compact basement dining room where the low ceiling and crowded tables made the place feel tucked away from the city above. Sally loved it immediately. They ordered trippa and lampredotto, and Giorgio watched with open amusement as Sally approached both with considerably more enthusiasm than Erika. “You really will eat anything.” “Within reason.” “That is not what your face says.” Sally ignored him. Once the plates had been sampled and the initial verdicts delivered, Erika reached beneath the table and produced a small box. She slid it toward Giorgio. He looked at it suspiciously. “What is this?” Sally smiled. “We bought it together. For you. As a thank-you.” “It was Sally’s idea,” Erika added. “And Erika chose it,” Sally said. Giorgio raised his eyebrows, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and picked up the box. He opened it. Then leaned back. “A watch?” He looked from one girl to the other. “For driving you into Firenze?” He lifted it carefully by the blue leather strap. The Fossil watch caught the light, the deep blue contrasting nicely with the rose-gold-toned case, almost copper in the dim restaurant light. Giorgio turned it once in his hand. Then smiled. “Where can I take you next?” Erika laughed. Sally grinned. But Giorgio’s expression softened almost immediately. “Grazie. Really. This is too much.” “It isn’t,” Sally said. She rested an elbow on the table. “You helped with Erika’s birthday. You helped me with the centoventisette. And now Florence.” She nodded toward Erika. “You’re a pretty great brother to have.” Giorgio frowned slightly, then turned toward his sister. “Non parli mai così.” Erika shrugged, suddenly interested in her plate. Sally immediately squeezed her arm. “È timida,” she told him. Erika gave her a betrayed look. Giorgio laughed and reached across to ruffle his sister’s curls. “È brava.” Erika tried to push his hand away, but she was smiling. Sally sat back and watched them. For all the teasing, arguments, eye rolling, and accusations of laziness, there was something deeply comfortable between the two of them. Something practiced. Old. Safe. Giorgio fastened the watch around his wrist and inspected it again. “Okay,” he said. “I accept.” Erika raised an eyebrow. “How generous.” “But now,” Giorgio added, “you cannot complain about my driving.” “No.” “Impossible,” Sally agreed. Giorgio sighed. “I knew there was a problem.” Sally laughed and reached for another bite of lampredotto. Outside, Florence carried on above them. Down in the little basement restaurant, Giorgio kept glancing at the watch on his wrist. -- Her body hurt. Not dramatically. Nothing was wrong. But her legs ached from walking Florence for hours, her feet protested every time she moved them, and muscles she hadn’t realized she had seemed to have filed individual complaints. Sally lay propped against the pillows with her knees bent, enjoying the simple pleasure of not having to move. The evening had turned surprisingly cool after they returned from Florence, so she had abandoned the T-shirts of the past few days for full pajamas. Her diaper was already on underneath. The overhead light was off, leaving only the small bedside lamp glowing warmly beside her. She had also evicted Erika. Politely. Mostly. Now she had Theresa on the phone. “Hey, kiddo. How’re you doing?” Sally smiled painfully. “In pain, but I’ll survive.” “That bad?” Theresa paused. “Should I check the credit-card statement?” Sally laughed, then regretted it when something in her stomach muscles complained. “You take all the fun out of it.” “It only takes the fun out of shopping if you can’t clear the card at the end of the month.” Sally considered that. “Then I’m safe, I guess.” “So I assumed.” There was a pause. “I heard about the car.” Theresa’s voice was impressively dry. Sally smiled. “I can’t fit it in my luggage, apparently.” “No.” Theresa laughed. “Your dad is talking to Lorenzo. He doesn’t want them simply handing you an old car and making whatever is wrong with it your problem. Lorenzo is arranging to have it properly looked over, and I’ll make sure it eventually gets out of his carport and into Switzerland.” Sally’s smile faded slightly. “I hope it isn’t too much trouble.” “Never. This is the kind of logistics I don’t mind.” “Moving forty-year-old Fiats across Europe?” “Fifty. And compared with some of the things wealthy people ask assistants to arrange? Absolutely.” Sally grinned. “Like what?” “I’m not violating professional confidentiality.” “Come on.” “I will say this: as long as you don’t suddenly decide you need fresh sushi flown from Japan because you’re hungry at eleven at night, we’re good.” Sally chuckled. “I wonder what would happen if I suddenly developed strange desires.” “I wonder too,” Theresa replied, in a tone suggesting she did not particularly wish to find out. Sally laughed again and shifted carefully against the pillows. “Tomorrow.” “Tomorrow,” Theresa confirmed. Her voice changed slightly, becoming businesslike. “Pickup at the house at nine. Car to Pisa. The G will be there waiting for you.” Sally brightened. “Cool. So Captain Henderson is back in business?” “Ready to roll. Once you’re airborne, a little over an hour and you should be back in Zurich.” “Cool.” The word came out more softly this time. Sally let her shoulders sink against the pillows. Home. “You’re missed, kiddo,” Theresa said. Sally smiled. “Yeah?” “Very much.” “How’s Oskar?” “Good. He looks around sometimes like someone is missing.” Sally chuckled. “No, he doesn’t.” “No,” Theresa admitted. “Probably not.” Sally could hear her smiling. “But every time I see him, I think you should be there. So maybe I’m projecting.” Sally swallowed. “I miss him.” “I know.” “And Mom. And Dad.” “How generous.” “Not you.” “Obviously.” Sally laughed. “I can’t wait to get home, Tess.” “We can’t wait to have you back.” For a moment neither said anything. Sally looked toward the open window. Tuscany beyond it was dark now, the countryside reduced to quiet shapes beneath the night sky. It had been such a good week. “Get some rest,” Theresa said. “Sleep tight, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Will do. Thanks, Tess.” “You’re welcome, Sally. Good night.” “Night.” The call ended. Sally placed her phone on the bedside table and let herself collapse properly into the mattress. Ow. She smiled anyway. She drew the sheet loosely over herself and settled deeper into the bed. Tomorrow she would be home. Oskar. Her parents. Theresa. Her own room. And somewhere behind her, for a little while longer, a faded blue Fiat 127 would remain beneath a Tuscan carport waiting for somebody to work out how to get Sally’s newest possession across the Alps. She shifted beneath the covers. A muffled rustle came from beneath her pajamas. Sally stopped. Then smiled. “Crinkle-crinkle.” Apparently Erika had ruined that sound forever. She curled onto her side, aching from head to toe and completely content. Florence had hurt. It had been worth every step.

A very wet with just a very small mess in my Abena M4 diaper. I have been recovering from the first step in a kidney stone procedure with a ureteral stent. Next step is to laser the stone, not yet scheduled. It is quite painful when I go pee pee and my affinity for diapers helps, not with the pain but with the urgency; I don't have to worry about wetting my pants. My pain started on 10/16 and I put up with it until Monday 10/19 at 1:00am when I told my wife I should probably go to an E.D. We went and it was a good thing because they had to admit me due to the obstruction from the kidney stone compromising kidney function. Not a good diaper journey to go through, but I am grateful for my diapies and appreciate them even more. I have never been incontinent, so my diapers have always been for my comfort, security, pleasure, and convenience. I am still not incontinent but pretty close with the discomfort of the stent.

Becca thought about what Maddison asked as she herself stirred in the macaroni and butter, "First as someone who has babysat Alice before this is just a little hiccup she gets them now and again, although it has been a bit since her last one so she'll probably get over it pretty quickly, as for your second question keep doing what you're doing just be patient loving and caring to your little sisters. Especially to your new one Emily, but you don't have to worry about taking care of her today as I'll be doing the bulk of it for today that way you can focus on Alice and use her as a type of training dummy."  -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a darn." Alice said quoting Gone with the Wind although changing damn to darn, she then picked up the remote with her mitten hands and turned it on by pressing the on button with her nose before settling down and watching what was on.