20. Noree Marcell
Five and a half weeks later…
It was my sissy’s birthday, and she looked like an actual doll. Too fucking cute.
Nourah had on this pink dress that fit just right—and hell, it better have, considering how much time she spent making it and how much she paid for the material.
It had the prettiest rhinestones all over it, tied around her neck with the whole back out, and a cute little train.
She had a birthday sash draped across her chest that said BIRTHDAY QUEEN in cursive, and honestly, I was just happy she was having a great night.
She invited a few friends, and I invited Veronica.
Veronica ended up being way cooler than I expected.
She turned out to be good people. She had us laughing all night, ordering shots she didn’t even bother asking if we wanted, and by the time the waiter brought out the cake with the sparklers, she was already out her seat singing “Happy Birthday” louder than everybody else.
Nourah blew out her candles with her eyes closed, made her wish, and everybody clapped and hollered.
I was clapping right along with them, but my stomach did something funny.
I ain’t think much of it at first. I figured it was the drinks or all the fried food we’d been eating. But then it hit again, harder, and I knew I needed to get up.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, already sliding out the booth.
I made it to the bathroom just in time. I hadn’t even got my hair up good before I was hunched over the toilet, throwing up everything I’d eaten.
When it finally let up, I stood there for a second just breathing, confused as hell because I hadn’t drank nowhere near enough to be feeling like this. I went over to the sink, planting both hands on the counter, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
The door swung open, and Nourah came in hype, singing whatever song they were playing, but I couldn’t even focus. She stopped mid-song as soon as she looked at me.
“Wait… what’s wrong with you?” she asked, her whole face changing.
“I don’t know.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “My stomach is really upset, sis.”
She ain’t even get to say nothing else before I had to turn right back around and throw up again.
Nourah was on me quick, gathering my hair up in her hands and holding it back.
“I got you. I got you,” she kept saying.
When I was done, I went back to the sink and washed my hands real good.
Then, I rinsed my mouth out and dug through my purse for a hair tie.
I twisted my hair into a messy bun to keep it out of my face for the rest of the night, even though I already knew the rest of the night wasn’t happening for me.
“I think I need to go home and lay down.”
“Aww, I hate you don’t feel good, Ree Ree, but yes, please…go get some rest, and I’ll check on you a little later,” Nourah said, still watching me close.
“Okay.” I sighed.
We were about to head out the bathroom when Nourah stopped short and grabbed my arm.
“Wait,” she said. “When was your last period?”
I stood there and really had to think on it, and the longer I thought, the wider my eyes got.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Am I…pregnant?”
“Girl… you might be,” Nourah said. “But I thought you and Ozy used a condom.”
“We did, but…” I said, my mind racing. “It had to have popped. Oh my God! Wait… no. Maybe it’s a stomach bug, or… I…” I was too flustered to even finish my sentence.
“Grab a test on the way home, just to be sure,” Nourah suggested.
That’s when it hit me all the way. Everything at once. I felt my eyes fill up before I could stop it.
“What’s wrong?” Nourah asked.
“I reached out to Ozy on social media, telling him I was sorry for his loss and that I was thinking about him. My messages were never seen or responded to and…” I sniffled, my voice cracking. “I even tried sending a message through Ky’s email, and still nothing. So… what if I am?”
That weekend meant so much to me and left me confused at the same time.
We never got to exchange numbers because we were staying in the same hotel and scheduled to be wherever Ozy was each day. Exchanging numbers honestly never even crossed my mind. Then, when he ran out the room that night, I swear I never thought it’d be the last time we’d talk or see each other.
I low-key felt stupid then and even more stupid now.
Like, yeah, he was going through something, and I was trying to be patient. It had been almost six weeks, but not one reply after giving me the best sex of my life?
“Damn,” Nourah said quietly. “You right. I forgot all about that. You know I even tried finding PB on social media, but I couldn’t find him nowhere.
He wasn’t even tagged in no pictures with Ozy.
He got my number that night at the liquor store, but he never got to text me.
Then when the whole Waffle House situation happened, he told me to let him know when his driver got me home safe, and I literally couldn’t without his number.
” She sighed. “I’m sorry I can’t help much in this situation. ”
I shook my head, wiping under my eyes, trying not to mess up what little makeup I had left.
“It’s okay.”
I thought back to how the third day of the Weekend with Ozy contest had been canceled, and that left me assed out with no way to contact him.
“I just…” I cried. “I don’t even know how I’m supposed to find him. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
Nourah pulled me into a hug right there in the middle of that bathroom.
“Everything’s gonna work out how it’s supposed to. I know that’s easier said than done, but I really believe that,” she said into my shoulder. “I promise.”
Just then, the bathroom door pushed open again, and Veronica came strolling in, singing the lyrics to “Spend Dat” until she caught the two of us standing there.
“Girl, what’s wrong?” she asked, stopping in her tracks.
Nourah looked up at her over my shoulder.
“This heffa might be pregnant.”
Veronica’s mouth fell clean open.