Page 69 of My Big Fat Italian Break-Up

‘Are you still there?’ Paul said. ‘Julian’s going to be home in an hour or so. Chop-chop – let’s get this beauty show on the road!’

Him and his makeover obsession.

I glared at him as he took a step into the room, taking one look at me. ‘You don’t look very good – what’s wrong?’

‘It’s OK,’ I wheezed. ‘It’s just my back. Turn off the sh—’

Another spasm caught me in mid-sentence and Paul gripped my arm.

‘Do I need to call your doctor?’

‘No, he’ll just say to take a pain reliever.’

‘Did you?’

‘I’d shake my head, but…’

‘Top drawer as usual?’

‘Yes. But this is a different kind of pain, Paul. I don’t think a pill is going to cut it.’

Half an hour later, I was still on the floor writhing in pain as Paul fretted over me.

‘Don’t you worry – I’ll get you to the hospital.’

‘How? I can’t move.’

‘Then let me call an ambulance.’

‘And alarm everyone? No. I’ll get to the car,’ I promised as I pulled myself up – and I swear I saw my whole life flash right by me. But I made it to the landing, huffing and puffing so hard it was a wonder the house was still standing.

‘Good girl. Easy – here’s the first step.’

I looked up at Paul for reassurance as we made our way down, and I had to stop at every step, the pain getting worse by the second. Ho, boy. Had I underestimated the whole situation?

‘And here we—’

‘Yeowwh…!’ I screamed helplessly as my feet touched the last step and the pain shot up.

I could feel it disc after disc, flooring me completely as my grip on the railing failed and Paul’s hands weren’t enough to keep me standing.

It felt like my spine was ripping from the inside out. I knew it. My back was always touch-and-go and sometimes, I’d end up in bed for days. All because I hadn’t kept my weight down, as my doctor had warned. Damn my gluttony. I should have heeded the words of caution from Julian. If only I’d listened, I wouldn’t be in this position – thispainfulposition – now.

Paul looked about him wildly for help.

‘You stay here – I’ll go get the car.Rosina!’ he yelled up the stairs as I rested my head on the railing, wanting to die but knowing the ordeal was all ahead of me still.

Man, I hated pain with a passion. How the hell did masochists manage to get a kick out of it?

I lifted my head to see where he’d gone as I couldn’t sit anymore, my whole lower half screaming. What the hell was keeping Paul?

Luckily he came running back, but only to circle the space at the bottom of the stairs like a headless chicken. I lifted my eyes a fraction.

‘Paul, stay calm. With the right massage and some rest, I’ll be OK. I’m not going into labor, you know.’

‘There are no cars!’ he shrieked.

‘What?’