I have been vomiting for a few days now. My stomach must not have been used to greasy food anymore. After 9 years of fish, pasta, soup, vegetables, and bread, the greasy food such as bacon eggs, and ham felt like poison inside my stomach.
I may have to avoid it. Due to its unpleasant cause, I stopped eating breakfast altogether yet I still find myself in the bathroom vomiting in the mornings. Could it be?
It feels weird walking into a hospital. It may take a while to get used to this. As I wait for my result inside, my hands started to fidget. When I look down, the ring Botticelli made for me evokes so many beautiful memories I had with him.
One, in particular, is when I was sewing quietly in the house and he started sketching me. The moment he also let me color some of his drawings for the Divine Comedy he made for Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de Medici.
It looked awful and I wasn't able to finish but he didn't get mad at me for it. Not even the slightest remark of detest or derision. I miss him.
The door swung open to reveal the doctor holding my result. "Congratulations, Mrs. Sutton you're pregnant."
I smiled upon learning the news. But as I walk home, I couldn't help but be sad about the fact that Botticelli is not here with me. He was waiting for me to finally be pregnant with his child. Now that I am, I have no way of telling him.
Remembering the loving looks he gave to his niece and nephews warms my heart completely. I wonder if it will be the same look he'll give to our child. I cannot wait to find out for myself.
"Are you sure you need to be back?" Uncle said as he paces around the room.
My belly at 6 months is swelling as my pregnancy is now apparent to everyone. "Yes, I promised him."
"As much as I want to, Emma, you need to consider your child. Children that survive infancy are not that many in the 15th century. The best way for you now is to wait until you at least let the child grow up and be vaccinated."
As much as I want to disagree, I cannot deny that he is right. Giovanni and Filippa's children were supposed to be 9 but only 5 manage to outlive infancy.
I was lucky enough that my son Giulio managed to survive the way he did but I could never be certain for Botticelli and I's child. Despite my urgency to finally see him once again, I knew I cannot risk it. Not after what we have gone through.
Sighing, I nodded my head in agreement. "Alright. I'll wait."
In May and 9 months of pregnancy, I decided to dedicate an entire journal to my child. I wanted him or her to know everything about us. As I write, I began with the stone that started it all and the woman I meant to see but was not able to.
I keep telling myself that I will go as soon as Venus gets a year older. My adorable baby girl has now grown into a 10-year-old with auburn hair and amber eyes. Most of her features were taken from me except for the color of her eyes.
Every time I look at her, it reminded me of Botticelli. I wish he could have seen her. Time flies too fast and each day, I kept holding my memory of him in my heart.
Each day I decided not to go back to him breaks me, but right now I must prioritize my daughter before myself.
In the years that followed, Venus comes home from school, her face looking down. Pouting, she hugs me tightly as she cries. "What's wrong, sweetie?" I ask as I try to make her look at me.
When she did, her face turns red from crying as she hiccuped. "Everyone else is teasing me at school."
I wipe off her tears gently and then make her sit on the sofa. When I close the door, I immediately went towards her and sit next to her. She immediately hugs me again and continues to cry. "Why are they teasing you, baby?"
"They say I'm a freak because I don't have a dad." The moment reminded me of myself when I was young. Teased by the other ballerinas for having no mother to pick me up after practice or watch me dance during recitals. Understanding how she feels, I gently brush her hair with my fingers and said, "I'm sorry they tease you so sweetie but you must know that you have a father."
"Then where is he?" She said, burying her face in my chest as she cries.
Sighing at the memory, I hugged her tighter. "Your father is away. One day, we'll go to him."
"You never even told me his name or where he is."
Now I finally understand why my father hid the details from me when I was young. It was difficult for him and it is especially difficult to tell her in a way she would understand. Despite everything, I still owe her an answer. Something that she can understand. "Venus, your dad's name is Alessandro Filipepi and he's from Italy. He's not here because he's waiting for us in there."
She suddenly stops crying and looks up at me. "Then let's go now."
I smile at her determination. She reminds me of myself. "As much as I want to, it's not that simple, sweetie."
Her brows crease in frustration as she pouts. "Why can't we? Why do we have to wait?"
So far, despite my efforts, Venus has yet to show interest in history. Like her father, she's skilled in arts and I wanted to tell her that his father is a famous renaissance painter. If only that was simple. "I can't tell you everything right now, but I promise that you will know about more of him soon."
Every day, I have wished to see her inclination for history. So much so that sometimes I would make her read a history book I used to open around her age. However, Venus prefers painting and sketching instead. Forcing something on her will not make her like it any better.
Some nights, I would find myself awake night, looking for the space on the soft bed next to me. There's not a night where I would not imagine Botticelli's sleeping form next to me. Hugging me tightly as the night deepens.
Having Venus has made me become the mother that I always wanted to be for Giulio. My dreams are plagued with the missed opportunity to see him and the simple moments I shared with my husband.
Somehow telling Venus about his father sparks an interest in history. It gave me profound relief and hope that we will see his father shortly. May the day we see him finally inch closer to us.
Being in the meadows reminds me of the Tuscan Poppies in Florence, the last place we had been before I left. As I look at the sunset, I begin to promise myself that Venus will see her father. She will have something I never did. She had both loving parents with her as she grows old.
The future I have always treasured in my heart, Botticelli and I growing old as we look at the family our children will have fills me with great joy.
Living with my Uncle has afforded me to attend Oxford. Now that I have my degree, I will be starting my research in the field of Archaeology pretty soon.
I know I may abandon it but achieving something of my own is an overwhelming experience that no one can ever give me but myself. Finally deciding to go home, I went inside my car to drive back to the house.
Driving home, I forgot that it is Halloween. Venus would love to make cookies and watch scary movies. As I rush home, I suddenly remember the torque I had in my mother's chest. It gave me a vivid dream that I can no longer remember.
Trying so hard to recover a few details of my dream, I didn't notice the oncoming car towards me.
Panic soon takes over. I try to swerve but I was too late. The clash turned my car sideways. It was meant to be fast, but in my eyes, things started to slow down. It was then that I noticed the stone floating alongside the other things from my bag. I immediately grab it and place it on my chest.
It became warm in an instant and the feeling of being pushed into weightlessness soon takes over me. I don't know where I'll go or when I'll be but when I woke up, I was laying down on the grassy ground.
When I woke up, a girl was standing over me. When I push myself to stand, I dropped the stone to the ground in shock. The girl in front of me looks familiar, no it's as if I'm looking in a mirror of when I was young. The girl and her fiery red hair are carefully arranged with pearls and her dress suggests that I'm back in the medieval period again. But why her?
"Hello." She said in old Italian.
"Hello," I respond.
It was then that I noticed she was holding the stone in her hands as she smiles. "My Aunt Simona said that this stone will grant me my wish."
My tears started to well up. I should have guessed it earlier but I was too preoccupied with thoughts of Botticelli to even think about it. "What did you wish for?"
"I wish for the most important person in my life to appear. I guess you are important to me."
I never would have believed it if I wasn't seeing it with my own eyes. We are indeed truly alike. My mother and I are too similar in our physical appearance even though she's only 13 years old. I know because Aunt Simona has mentioned this very story herself before.
Her eyes are light brown and they glimmered with hope as she looks at me. "I guess I am."
"What is your name?"
"Antonia."
She then bows in front of me gracefully and utters her name in a sweet and gentle voice. "I'm Simonetta Cattaneo. It's a pleasure to meet you, Antonia."
"Believe me, the pleasure is all mine," I said as my tears began to fall to my cheeks in happiness. I never thought this day would come. I'm overwhelmed even by the simple sight of her.
"Why are you crying?" She asks as she jerks her head to one side in curiosity.
"I'm just really happy to see you. You are important to me too."
Simonetta smiled as she reaches up to wipe my tears away. "I'm happy too. Although I do not know your importance just yet I can feel it inside me that I will find out soon."
I smile and nodded at her. "Yes, you will."
She looks around and took one flower from the piles of flowers laying on the ground and give it to me. "For you. It's my birthday today but I figured I should give you this as a gift. Everyone else has given me something I don't need but you have given me something so much more."
I took the white rose from her hands as I smile. "Thank you. What exactly did I give you?"
With a proud smile, she said, "Peace." She then took all of her flowers then prepares to leave. "Pardon me, Antonia but I need to go. They might be looking for me."
"Alright."
"Will I be seeing you again?" She asked.
"You will, Simonetta."
Grinning in relief she waves at me. "Farewell, Antonia."
"Goodbye," I said as I wave back. When she was out of earshot, I continued. "I love you, mom." She was wrong. She was the one who gave me peace. Holding the white rose in my other hand, I took the stone from the ground with my free hand and went back home to my daughter.