How cute! A little round mound protrudes through her shirt. Now that Fran is in the late stages of the first trimester, her face is starting to look fuller, and apparently her stomach as well. At eleven weeks, the baby is only the size of a strawberry. Evidently she’s one of those women who starts showing early.
“I had to make a mad dash to the store to find suit pants because my regular ones refused to let me use the little hair-tie trick to keep them closed. And when I got there, all of a sudden I had a pooch.”
I smirk. “All of a sudden?”
“You know what I mean.”
I laugh. “You can always wear dresses instead. Then you don’t have to worry about your pants closing.”
Her eyes narrow as if she’s mentally picturing herself in dresses. “I’m pretty sure I only own pencil skirts.”
“Sounds like we need to go shopping. Don’t you remember how many dresses Jackie wore when she was pregnant with Ollie?”
“Yep.” Jackie sounds behind us. “It’s cheaper than buying maternity clothes, especially if you get swing dresses.” Jackie eyes Fran. “In fact, you could probably fit into mine if you don’t mind wearing my clothes.”
“Give them to me now,” Fran growls.
“And you need to keep a candy bar in your purse.” Jackie pulls out Fran’s favorite one. “Keeps the pregnancy beast on a leash.”
“Are you calling me an animal?” Fran sounds indignant.
I try not to laugh, but inside I’m misty eyed. This feels like Jackie extending an olive branch. Not to mention this is what I envision for our sisterhood. Joking around but still showing up for each other as well.Lord God,please let this beus every day going forward. Fran will need us, especially if our parents and others ostracize her for one mistake.
“No, I’m saying a hungry pregnant woman is next-level hangry. No one wants to go near that, so keep snacks on hand. It’s practice for when you have a kid who always needs to eat.”
“So true,” I add. I often have the squeeze applesauce in my purse because Ollie is always demanding his next meal. Aren’t boys supposed to eat you out of house and home when they’re teens? Ollie certainly didn’t get that memo. Then again, he can’t read, so maybe it’s waiting in his internal inbox.
We head out to the parking garage, Fran and Jackie laughing and joking, and I grin.
Thank You,Lord,for this moment.
39
Jabari
I shuffle to the door and yank on the knob so whoever’s pounding on the door will stop the racket. Each rap of their knuckles is like a sledgehammer to my skull. Javier raises his eyebrows, then my vision blurs and prevents me from noticing any other detail.
“What?” I croak.
“Yo, man, you look like warmed cheese.”
I take assessment of myself. “Yeah, that about sums it up.” I walk away from the foyer and back to the couch, where I’ve been curled up all day.
“You sick?” Javier asks quietly.
“Migraine meds haven’t done anything yet.” Which is why I flip the throw blanket right back over my head and sigh as darkness encloses me.
“Anything I can do?”
“No,” I moan.
Javier stops by the couch. “What about a cool compress for your eyes or an ice pack for your head?”
“Maybe.” I force the words between my numb lips.
It’s been a while since I tried either, and if it brings the migraine into headache territory, then, yes, please.
I must have drifted off to sleep because when I move, the towelover my eyes is warm, and the ice pack on my head feels slushy. I slowly sit up, thankful when the room doesn’t spin. Is Javier still here?
