One-shots featuring all kinds of Black girls and the men you stalk on Instagram. Because we deserve to be loved and cared for. Endlessly.
(Mostly interracial, but I'm about that black love too.)
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"I've been trapped."
In disbelief, I peered down at the plus sign that had just appeared on the face of the stick I pissed on, also known as a pregnancy test. My best friend, Tiffany sat beside me on the sink with her arms folded and her hand over her mouth.
"That man trapped me," I repeated, dropping the test on to the counter.
"Your husband trapped you two years ago, sis. When y'all got married," Tiffany finally spoke up as she watched me pace the floor.
"That was only a legal thing. This is different," I insisted.
Two weeks ago, I started to have...what some may call, pregnancy symptoms. I had missed my period and started to feel irritatingly nauseous throughout the day.
Timothee's out of town, so there was nobody here to notice these symptoms other than me. And I am the queen of denial.
It was only within the last few days, when I'd started throwing up, that Tiffany convinced me to take a test.
"Girl, let's be real. I'm literally 100% sure that you let that wigga hit it raw on the regular."
I looked away.
"And you're not on birth control."
"And Timothee is 100% is the type of man who's trying to put a baby in you every time y'all...I'm sure he's said that he wants to put a baby in you."
"He pulls out," I protested weakly. Sometimes. My insatiable husband was not always the most logical, clear-headed guy.
She rolled her eyes.
" What the hell am I going to do?" I said, placing a hand on my stomach and peering at myself in the mirror. There was only a tiny bloated appearance there, but honestly Timmy had been gone for a month, so I knew I was at least that far along.
"Be happy, girl. You love babies."
"Other people's babies."
"Whatever. And tell Timothee."
I halted. I was sure that Timothee hadn't intentionally knocked me up. But I also knew that he would probably still be delighted at this new development. Honestly, Timothee seemed to love commitment. This marriage has helped the both of us, but Tim thrived in it. I am very much in love with him, but his love always seems to show up more intensely than mine. It was as if he could never get enough of me. Mind, body, and soul. I knew it would only make him happier that this new experience would tie us together even more tightly.
But life is crazy. Tim is usually gone, and while I do miss him, the distance allows me to be my own person. I can't help but feel like my identity is bound to be lost in this process of becoming a mom. Still, I know its one of the most important things I can ever do. Damn.
