Craving for Plums

Craving for Plums
Diana

I woke up in the middle of the night with a strange feeling.

It wasn’t pain.

It wasn’t nausea.

It was… a craving. An absurd, surreal craving—totally beyond human logic.

I wanted green plums.

Out of nowhere.

I sat up in bed as if someone had called my name.

“Oh God…” I murmured, running a hand over my face. “I need green plums. Right now.”

I looked over.

Ethan was sleeping like a giant angel, breathing heavily, sprawled all over the bed. I almost felt bad about waking him up.

Almost.

“Ethan,” I nudged him.

Nothing.

“Ethan…”

He grumbled, rolled onto his side, and hugged me, thinking I was a pillow.

“Ethan, babe… wake up.” I tapped his arm gently—the kind of tap that doesn’t hurt but is definitely annoying.

“Hm… what is it?” He opened one eye—just one—like a lazy cat.

“I need green plums.”

He blinked.

Blinked again.

By the third blink, he had that “what?” look on his face.

“What?”

“Green plums,” I repeated. “I need them.”

“Right now?” he asked, his voice raspy with sleep.

“Yes. Like… right now.”

He sat up slowly and rubbed his face, as if trying to reboot his brain.

“Diana… where are we going to find green plums at three in the morning?”

“I don’t know.” I felt desperation rising. “But I need them. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.”

He looked at me for a couple of seconds.

Sighed.

And got out of bed as if he were setting off to solve a crime.

“Okay. I’ll try to find some.”

I stayed there hugging my pillow, keeping my fingers crossed.

And so began Ethan’s 3 a.m. saga. I heard him in the hallway:

— Siri, where can I buy green plums right now?

Silence.

— Obviously, nothing’s open — he grumbled.

The door opened and he came back into the bedroom with his phone in hand, already dialing someone.

— Who are you calling? — I asked hopefully.

— The building security guard. Maybe he knows someone.

He put it on speakerphone.

— Hello? — the guard answered, his voice clearly showing he’d been asleep.

— Good morning — Ethan said, as if it were eight in the morning. — I need green plums.

Dead silence.

— Sir… what?

— Green plums — he repeated. — My wife is pregnant.

— Oh! — the guard woke right up. — I get it. Let me check with the guys here. Maybe someone has a relative with a tree…

Ethan hung up and immediately started calling someone else.

And another person.

And another.

I started to laugh nervously.

But I also started salivating heavily. It felt like my whole body had been held hostage by the idea of ​​those damn plums.

— Honey — I said desperately — isn't there anything similar? Like… some sour fruit? A lemon? I don't know.

He thought about it.

— Do you want a lemon?

— I want… no. I don't think so. Oh, I don't know!

And I started getting annoyed with myself, with the world, and with humanity, because no one on planet Earth seemed to have a green plum.

— Okay. Let's try something else — Ethan said decisively. — What else are you craving?

I thought.

I thought hard.

— Pizza.

It just slipped out.

— Pizza? — he repeated.

— Pizza.

He smiled.

— I can do that.

Ten minutes later, he was dressed, grabbed his keys, and left.

I lay there, kicking my legs like a child waiting for a present. Less than half an hour later, he was back with THREE huge boxes.

“Just three?” I asked, hungry.

His eyes went wide.

“Diana… this is enough to feed a whole city.”

“A city with a light appetite,” I replied, opening the first box.

I wasn't just normally hungry.

I was emotionally unhinged, pregnant-woman hungry.

And I ate.

I ate like I was in a competition.

The first whole pizza.

Then the second.

Half of the third.

Ethan watched me as if he were witnessing a documentary about a rare animal.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m great,” I replied, my mouth full.

But then it hit.

Out of nowhere.

The wave.

The warning.

My body said: “Girl… that’s it.”

“Ethan,” I said, dropping the slice, “I think I’m going to—”

I ran.

He followed, but I was already in the bathroom, undergoing a questionable spiritual experience.

I threw it all up.

Absolutely everything.

It was so intense, it felt like even my memories came up with it.

And then I started to cry.

Not a pretty cry.

An ugly, desperate cry.

“I ate it all…” I said between sobs. “And now I’ve thrown it all up…”

And I had LOVED every single bite…

Ethan just stared at me with a look that said, Oh God, how do I handle this?

He sat on the floor with me—right behind me—and held back my hair.

“It’s okay, love… it’s all right.”

“NO, IT’S NOT!” I shouted, crying harder. “I really wanted pizza! And I wanted green plums! But I didn't get any plums! And now the pizza’s all gone! And I’m angry! And I’m hungry! And I hate the universe!”

He held my hand.

“Sweetheart… do you want more pizza?”

“NO!” I said, indignant. — If I eat pizza again, I’m going to throw up again!

I want my green plum!

He took a deep breath—the kind only a man who has accepted his fate takes.

— Okay. We’ll find that green plum. Even if I have to import it from Japan.

I sniffled.

— Do you promise?

— I promise — he said, kissing my forehead. — Now come here. Get up.