“You need to know for sure. I mean it’s early so . . . sorry, that’s insensitive, but you know what I mean.”

Right, of course. There was always that. Theoretically, I had choices.

“Is it even legal here?”

“I don’t think so,” Cali says. “So I guess you’d have to go home.”

“I’d go home anyway. Of all the things I’d like to experience abroad, that one’s not really on the list. Not that I even . . . I’m sure I’m not.”

The idea of being pregnant by Gianluca is horrific. I would end up another secret, cast away like his first little family and God knows how many others. But then, I also feel something completely unexpected; some unfathomable part of me does want to be pregnant, or is at least intrigued by the notion. Something is revived in the idea that my body isn’t obsolete, that it has performed something miraculous. Life in the old girl yet.

“Come on,” Cali says, “we’re going to the pharmacy right now. You can wait outside. My Spanish is better.”

Back in our creaky condo that smells of salt air, I take the test and sit with Cali for the longest three minutes of my life, waiting for the sign—plus or minus—to appear in the tiny window.

Pregnant.

Liz Has More to Lose

OUR FIRST night back in Buenos Aires, I go over to Edward’s for dinner and right away spot Gemma by the pool. She looks especially pretty tonight with her soft features in profile in the crepuscular glow. I grab a bottle of red from the counter to go see if Gemma will have a glass with me—no more than the one I’m allowed, and besides, it might not matter. I don’t realize until I’m out of the door that she’s on the phone, holding it to the side of her head that faces away from me. I stop in my tracks, not meaning to eavesdrop but overhearing her nonetheless.

“Mummy loves you, she misses you terribly.”

Mummy?

I step back to retreat inside but accidentally slam into the doorway and Gemma looks my way just as she’s hanging up the phone. For a moment, her big round eyes widen and then she smiles broadly.

“Liz, darling!”

“Sorry, I was just coming to see if you wanted to have a glass of wine with me, but then I saw you were on the phone . . .”

“Well I’m off now, and of course I want a glass of wine, you goose.” She motions me to join her where she’s sitting.

“I was just on the phone with my little sister. She hasn’t visited our mother in ages, and somehow this has become my problem to solve from thousands of miles away.”

“So your sister is speaking to you again then?” I ask.