4:30 pm.
It feels like you've been working for three days straight by the time you clock out, hauling your reusable coffee mug and water bottle down the hall toward the elevators. Your coworkers have been very supportive in that they haven't caught an attitude with your constant munching on trail mix or fruit chips, and you think they've suspected you're pregnant but haven't said anything.
You're tired, but you agree to wait around for Sydney to get all of her stuff together and talk to the manager. She's trying to get extended time off for Christmas, and you haven't even thought about it yet. Unlike Thanksgiving, you're going to have to head over to your parents' house at some point to exchange gifts and to eat. Usually, their Christmases are pretty lowkey, maybe a few relatives will roll by but for the most part it's food and relaxation.
It's perfect, because your mom's black eyed peas + cornbread combination will put you in a whole food coma.
Your cell phone vibrates inside your purse and when you check it, you're surprised.
"You got a hangover?" you ask, amused, as you lean against the wall.
"I thought you was off work an hour ago. Where you at?"
Rolling your eyes, you sigh long and hard into the phone. "I'm still at work, waiting on Sydney."
N'Jadaka tells you to hurry up and get there and you pause at the sound of his voice. At first you thought that he may just have woken up but now that you listen he sounds croaky and gross, like he's been throwing up.
"N," you go, half-whispering. "What's the matter with you?"
"I'm shootin' that restaurant up," he shoots, ignoring you.
"No you're not."
"I am," he says. "They did this shit on purpose."
He goes off, like you personally gave him food poisoning, and it takes you the absolute longest time to hang up because he won't let you. You must have said a million 'okays' and 'i'm on my ways' by the time you hit the freeway.
Once again, you prove you care too much for his peanut-headed behind, because you endure the terrible after-work traffic to get to the crowded Whole Foods near his house. He absolutely will not stop calling you and you ignore him after the fifth time, wondering why men act like babies when they get sick. You've had food poisoning a lot dealing with your father's cooking, and each time (after she got done cussing him out) your mother would bring out the same group of foods to make you feel better.
You grab a basket, thinking about how empty N'Jadaka's fridge is and shaking your head. He does too much and you're assuming he's hardly home when you aren't there with him; his kitchen is too big and too nice to be as empty as it is.
The phone rings again just as you're putting a pack of Gatorade into the basket and with an annoyed sigh you pick up. "What?"
"Don't 'what' me," he snaps, sucking his teeth. "I don't know who the fuck you think you be talkin' to."
"You, nigga," you reply, reaching for a bottle of ginger ale. "Why do you keep calling me ? I told you I was coming."
"Hurry up! I already told you I don't want you outside like that without me."
Another sigh escapes your lips because it wouldn't kill his ass to just say he's worried about you without his idiotic phrasing. His over-protectiveness gets old pretty quick, and it's only been getting worse now that you're carrying his child.
"I'm trying to help you," you finally say, making your way toward the front. "Because if I was as mean as you, I would've just went home and not paid you any attention."
