Pomegranates and Olive

Chapter 1

Olive vs. The Wedding Proposal

“I think I'm having a nervous breakdown."

"Is that what you want to call it?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"I don't know, maybe. You do seem to be making some very rash decisions."

Rash decisions?

My name is Olive Giulietta Russo (or Liv to my friends and family of which I have fewer every day). I’m a 28-year-old woman sitting on the floor of my old bedroom in my parent's red-brick, two-storey, mock-Roman home (complete with Corinthian columns) in Warriewood, one of Sydney's northern suburbs having arrived last night on their doorstep, hysterical and covered in vomit. I'm now wearing my mother's blue, floral nightgown. I look at the tumbler-sized glass of red wine in my hand and take a long sip.

Yep, rash decisions seem to be something of a character trait that I have developed over the past few days.

"Take a deep breath and explain to me what happened."

On the verge of tears, I drain my tumbler in a half-assed effort to calm myself. I take a deep breath and begin my story with my cousin, Ginger, via FaceTime.

"You know in those horror movies when the girl goes into the woods and you scream at her, 'DON'T GO INTO THE WOODS' but she ignores you and then somehow she ends up in her underwear, so she's now in the woods in her underwear, and then she's crazy murdered and you're like, well, duh?"

"Yeah?"

“Well that's what happened last night."

"You were in the woods in your underwear?"

"No, but the night was a total blood bath anyway."

"That still doesn’t explain what happened, Olive."

"Okay, okay. It all started with Chiara's 30th birthday party last month."

“I can’t believe I missed Chiara’s birthday.” Ginny moans into the computer. "It looked epic."

"It was epic. We stayed in the city in this fabulous penthouse apartment. It was gorgeous. Massages. A personal chef. There was a stripper..."

My younger sister, Rosalia, who was stretched out beside me on the floor, butted in. "Two strippers! And they were both totally hot!"

I wink at the camera. "Yeah, they were hot."

"There was also a psychic who gave each of us a reading."

From the computer I can sense Ginger's mirth as she rolls her eyes. "Jeeze. Come on now."

"Honestly, Ginny, she was totally full of shit. Psycho Magda —" Rosie snorts at her own joke and shoves her face in front of mine, "— told me that I was going to marry the man that I had been in love with my whole life!"

"Zac Efron?"

Rosie fell back onto the floor, laughing, her long sun-kissed curls spreading across the keyboard of my laptop. "Oh man, I wish. He's morphed into one hot daddy."

"Can you shut up, Rosie?" I drag the laptop toward me and away from her and her hair. "Look, I might've had a lot to drink that night, but at that moment Madam Magda really spoke to me! It was as though she could read all my fears that I'd been having about my relationship with Luca."

Ginny opens her mouth to say something, but I put my hand up. "I know, I know. She's psychic. Ha-ha. Madam Magda said I was at a crossroads and whichever path I chose will determine the course of the rest of my life. She said that if I wanted to find true happiness, I needed to walk down a new path, a fork in the road and all that."

"She also said something about being naked at some point in your future and I can't really see that happening anytime soon, can you?” Rosie drops to the ground beside me. “Honestly Liv, you really screwed the pooch, and why? Because some psycho psychic gave you some really shitty advice!"

"Her name is Madam Magda... and can I continue?" Ginny nods, and Rosie mimes zipping her lips. "Every card she turned over was symbolic to me.”

“Every card she turned over could’ve been symbolic to anyone.”

“But in that moment Rosie they all made sense. The two swords? I had a huge decision to make, something I was blind to. The fool card? I need to take a leap of faith.”

“A-N-Y-O-N-E!”

“Rosie? Let Liv speak.”

“She then turned over the Death card. She said that death is inevitable but to think of the death card as a symbol rather than an actual death. She said that it's the beginning of great changes in my life. Death to one life path and all…"

"Okay."

"She was wrong. I told her that she was wrong. I told her that my life is absolutely perfect, that I have a job that I love —"

Rosie snorts.

"— and I have an amazing guy who’s the right guy for me."

"Great."

"But she knew it was all a lie. She knew I was full of shit.”

“How?”

“She grabbed my hand, stared me dead in the eye, and quoted Shakespeare at me."

"Uh-oh."

My love of all things Shakespeare is well-known amongst my family and friends, mostly because I loved English literature in school, but also because my mother's ancestral family originated from Verona and, if you believe the family folklore, we are said to be the actual descendants of the Capelletti's. I regularly quote the Bard to anyone who will listen. Then again, I've also quoted Cardi B on occasion and I'm definitely not a fan of her WAP.

"That still doesn't explain why you're sitting on your old bedroom floor doing a quality imitation of Bridget Jones."

"Don't you understand? She quoted the Bard! The Bard!"

"It's probably because you look like a librarian."

Being called a librarian isn't the insult Rosie thinks it is, mostly because that's my job and I happen to love it. And I don't think I look like the stereotypical mousy-haired librarian either. I prefer the self-proclaimed term “hot nerd.”

I'm tall-ish, slim-ish, and my boobs, when they finally came in, are just a little more-ish than a handful (they were worth the wait). But my best asset... wait... my best ass-et, like all the girls in the Russo family, is my ass. I have my Nonna's wonderful Italian butt. Think, part Sophia Loren and part Gina Lollobrigida. My grandfather, God rest his soul, used to say that my Nonna had un bel sedere — a great butt. He was not well-known for his charm and wit.

Maintaining my figure isn’t always easy, especially when it’s that time of the month and bloating comes on strong. I love my pasta and I eat a lot of it, and, although nothing can tame my voluptuousness, I've learned how to dress to compliment my body shape. Seriously, I can wear the hell out of a pair of skinny jeans and I've been known to knock a guy's socks (well my guy's socks) right off him in a slip dress!

"A hot, sexy, librarian, you mean."

I peek a look at myself on the tiny screen at the top right-hand corner of my computer and cringe at the sight of the demented-looking woman staring back at me with wild eyes. There's mascara running down her face and her usually blue, but with flecks of green, eyes look sore and puffy from crying. Her blonde hair resembles a bird's nest rather than its usual tangle of waves that fall half-way down her back, and her best feature, a full and generous mouth, still had the remains of last night's MAC Ruby Woo lipstick caked on. Kudos to MAC for their quality, long-term lipstick, but right now I was more not than hot.

"If that helps you then sure, sis."

Ginny did her best to get the conversation back on track. "So, what did this Madam Magda say?"

"She said, 'Always the wrong person gives you the right lesson in life.’"

"Which makes absolutely no sense."

"To you, maybe, brat."

But it hit me right in the feels.

"Still doesn't explain why you're sitting on the bedroom floor in your parents' house."

"Sono un fottuto idiota."

Oh, and in case you haven't worked it out yet, I'm Italian. Australian born and bred but from a very large, very Italian, very Catholic family, thus my Nonna's considerable ass, my love of pasta and a lifetime of Catholic guilt. It also means I tend to curse, mostly in Italian, in the guise that people won't guess when I'm insulting them.

Being bi-lingual in curse words is one of my proudest achievements in life.

"Don't call yourself stupid, Olive. You're the smartest person I know!"

"Okay then, I fucked up."

I did say mostly in Italian, didn't I?

"I'm still going to need a little more than that."

"Fine... so last night I fucked up!" I pour myself another tumbler of my father's home made vino rosso and wonder how many more it's going to take for me to forget last night ever happened. "Luca took me to Altitude for my birthday."

"At the Shangri-La? Romantic."

I nod blankly at the screen. "Yeah... so there we were overlooking Sydney Harbour, soft music, twinkling city lights, and I just couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had come over me."

"Why?"

"It was the look on Luca's face. It was full of promise and love. He was happy. And I knew."

"Knew what?"

"I knew he was going to propose."

"Luca is one of the most objectively marriable guys I've ever met!" Ginny squawks down the screen. "And yay!"

"Don't yay, Ginny... there's more... and then before I could stop him I was staring at a truly magnificent square-cut diamond ring."

"Stop him? Why would you stop him?"

"Wait, still more. So I opened my mouth to reply," I pause for effect, "when my stomach contracted and I gagged. And then I retched. And then I vomited my charred Fremantle Octopus all over Luca, my dress, and our table."

"It was actually my newly completed sample dress that I agreed to lend her because she promised that she would bring it back in pristine condition," Rosie piped up.

Rosalia has been designing and selling her own line of apparel, 'Gypsy Rose', for nearly five years now. She started making her own clothes when she was 14, and soon after, her friends were asking her to design clothes for them as well. From there, her following exploded. Her first online show sold out within hours. These days, she does pop-up shops in locations around the country to promote her sales and is making a tidy profit on each and every piece she sells. Pretty good for a kid that just scraped by at school.

"Fine, Rosie, your sample dress!"

"The stains are never going to come out."

"Shush, Rosie. The adults are trying to talk."

"It's ruined."

Ginny claps her hands at the screen to get our attention. "Rosie? Shush. Olive? Continue."

"So I ran."

My sister sticks her face in front of the camera again. "Olive arrived at our doorstep still covered in vomit. She smelled awful!"

"Shut up, Rosie."

"But, Liv, you guys are the most solid couple I know. At least you were, up to about thirty seconds ago."

"I know."

"Liv and Luca. Luca and Liv. Forever."

Forever.

I look at the framed photos of Luca and I that are scattered around my old bedroom: Luca and I on our first date; Luca and I at the beach; even Luca and I at my high school formal. I shake my fist at the slightly-faded couple in the photo. They mock me with their bright smiles and coordinated outfits. "Like Shakespeare... and Madam Magda said... 'always the wrong person gives you the right lesson in life.’"

"So, Luca isn't the man for you? He's supposed to teach you something instead? Is that what you're saying?"

"I don't know what I'm saying." My voice catches in my throat as I try to hold back a sob. "I swear to God, I don't know. Don't you see? Loving Luca is easy, it always has been. The problem is with me, I have so many different problems that I don't know where to begin."

"I totally second that statement."

"Shut up Rosie." I glare at my sister for a moment as she starts doing sit-ups beside me. "No, I mean it's really me. Madam Magda was just the catalyst that I needed to stop and take control of my life and of who I want to be."

"And who is that?"

"I want to be the Olive who has awesome adventures and breathtaking, passionate, never-to-be-replicated loves. I want to be the Olive that isn’t afraid of anything, she stands tall in the face of danger and howls at the moon."

"I think you should be the Olive that goes to the doctor and gets that stomach issue of yours sorted out. The howling should probably be checked as well."

I scowl at my sister. "Why is everything such a joke to you, Rosie? Can't you take anything seriously?"

Rosie shrugs with a rueful smile. "I'm just trying to lighten the moment."

"Well don’t, okay?" I turn my attention back to my cousin. "There's just so many things I want to do; places I want to explore; people I want to meet. And if I'm going to be totally honest, I don't know if I want to do any of those things with Luca."

"Luca would never hold you back from anything you want to do."

"I know that." I stand up and start pacing across the room. "Did you know that we were talking about having a baby?"

Ginny shook her head silently while Rosie just gaped at me.

"Do you want a baby, Liv?"

I ignore Ginny's question and keep barreling on. "Did you know that I've never dated anyone but Luca? I've never loved anyone but Luca, either. Never had that moment of bumping into a guy and wondering for just one crazy moment what it would be like to kiss him."

"Do you want to break up with Luca? Is that what you're saying?"

"Break up with him?”

Ginny sighs and speaks slower as though she’s talking to a child. “Did anyone actually say the words ‘its over’?”

“I vomited all over him. I'm pretty sure he took that as a break-up!"

"Because you vomited on him?"

"No, because it's clear that I'm a hot mess. Why would he wait around for me to get my shit together?"

"You're not making a lot of sense right now."

"I've always dreamed of exploring Verona on a Vespa."

"I just got whiplash with that change of direction."

"Did you know I've never travelled further than Byron Bay?"

"Yes you have. We did that family trip to Italy when I was three."

"That doesn't count." I sigh and flop back on the floor in front of the computer. "I mean, I want to really travel; like you did, Ginny. I want to meet new people and have amazing adventures!"

My cousin Ginny moved overseas a few years ago and is currently living in Turkey with her smoking hot fiancé, Aydin. Theirs was a real whirlwind romance. She had one messy night with him in London before they were thrown together again in Istanbul, where they fell in love.

"My whole life, I've been the good girl. I've always done the right thing, the safe thing. Always colouring within the lines. I've never broken the law, never had that youthful foible. No one's ever had to be concerned about my immortal soul, that's for sure. I've never even stolen a packet of gum. I always vote. I give to charities, even when they hassle you on the street during your lunch break. I always wear my seat belt —"

"Well that's just sensible."

"I have dreams, you know. I have things I want to do."

"You're only 28."

"I'm 28 and I've never hiked to the top of a mountain or jumped off a cliff. I've never skinny dipped. I've never even had a speeding ticket, which just seems ridiculous to me now that I think about it. I've never had an orgasm. I've never even seen a Matthew McConaughey movie! Did you know that?"

"Wait! What?"

"Matthew McConaughey. Not even Magic Mike."

"We'll unpack that one later, Liv. I was referring to the orgasm."

"I've never had an orgasm." My face burns bright at my disclosing such private information. "At least I don't think so, anyway."

"You'd totally get off if you watched Magic Mike."

"Charming, Rosie."

"How is that possible? Luca's... Luca's..." Ginny looks like she's in shock as she tries to find the right words. "Does Luca even know?"

"Noooo! I like to think I'm a pretty good actress, and anyway, how do I tell him that I love him, but he just doesn't do it for me. It always starts off good, you know, and it builds and builds and then... nothing.” I throw my hands up in the air in frustration. “Don't get me wrong, he's got all the moves, but I just haven't gotten across the finish line. And after all these years together I’ve got to wonder if we’ve fizzled out now then what will our relationship be like when we’re 50?"

"Maybe you're a lesbian."

"I'm not a lesbian, Rosie, I just haven't had an orgasm. The internet tells me it's perfectly normal."

"I... just... but... what about —" Ginny lowers her voice to a whisper, "— by yourself?"

"That's something else I haven't done!"

Ginger shouts into the computer. "Oh my God!"

Rosie falls back on the floor beside me and shouts at the ceiling. "Oh my God!"

"Oh my God!" I cover my face in my hands and moan. "I mean I have done it, of course I have, I just haven't, you know!"

"Had an orgasm? Or masturbated?"

"I'm pretty sure she means both." Rosie leans towards the