#the only good thing philadelphia has ever done is let this creature run wild in the streets

[aleapoffaithfiction]

XIV.

It's like I've been awakened Every rule I had you break it It's the risk that I'm taking I ain't never gonna shut you out

You ever felt like you’ve been hit by a car, survived it, and as soon as you go to stand on your feet, you end up getting hit by an eighteen-wheeler truck?

No?

Well, that’s how I’ve been feeling since I woke up this morning. I’ve suddenly morphed into a milk chocolate toned dragon who breathes fire from the depths of my chest and straight out of my throat. Every word spoken comes with an excruciating aching that Tylenol refuses to ease. The tea and honey are barely doing anything to subdue the rough cough that began just yesterday. Oh, and the body aches? I might as well just lay down in the middle of the floor and pray the Lord has mercy on me at some point.

“I don’t know how the hell you made it through the entire show like that. You really are crazy sometimes.” Anna pulled my box braids into a high ponytail as I slouched my frame even further down into the styling chair. I’m conning myself into believing that the slump position will give me a few seconds of relief from the aches I’m having.

The chills trickling everywhere have left me shivering under a throw blanket I took from home. If anyone on set didn’t know any better, you’d think I’ve been standing outside in the blistering soon to be winter air. Thank God I sat through the lengthy amount of time to allow her to put the braids in on Saturday night. With the way I’m covered in perspiration, any straightened or curled hairstyle would have left me looking like an extra left out of a Soul Glow commercial.

“It irritates me to have to call out at the last minute. That typically leaves production scrambling to try and fill in gaps. If I were in their shoes, I know it would be a headache for me, so I don’t like to do it to them. On Saturday, I e-mailed both Amy and Chip to let them know that I feel pretty shitty and to clear my schedule for the next two days pending further notice. I’m hoping it passes by then.”

The last time I had a cold, it was right at the very end of winter and it felt like nothing more than a bad headache and the sniffles. A couple of home remedies and a few over the counter products had me feeling much better within two or three days, but what I’m feeling now? I don’t know what the hell is going on. Rite Aid literally showed up to the medical office at the studio and offered the flu shot to everyone, through our insurances, as a curtesy, so it better not be that. I can’t stand getting injections, so it would be one hell of a disservice if I allowed them to inject that medication into me only for it to not work out in my favor.

“Are you going to go to the doctor?”

“Probably tomorrow. It’s too late to do any of that today. Once I drop Taylor off at the airport, I’ll head straight there.” Though I’m so accustomed to living on my own, I can admit to being sadden about Taylor heading out to Los Angeles tomorrow. It’s not that I’ve gotten used to her being around; it’s more so that I’ve enjoyed the company that she’s been to me for the past week. We always have incredible conversations over the phone about the most trivial of topics, but it’s been far more fulfilling and hilarious to be able to say all of those things to one another face to face. We’ve indulged in our love for classic cult black films, shared recipes between one another in my kitchen, and have taken New York City by a storm.

Even with Jesse being in town, it didn’t feel like the presence of her man overshadowed anything that we did together. Ice skating was better than I thought it would be because I was and still am quite rusty in that area. We did see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular and humorously took photographs sitting on Santa’s lap complimentary of the showrunners. Although I’ve seen it more times than I can count, we saw The Lion King on Broadway and then had far too many pitchers of Matusalem rum infused mojitos over at Havana Central on West 46th Street.

I nearly came face to face with the filthy pavement as I moved at the best speed I could offer to avoid the invasive TMZ camera crew awaiting our exit. In Hollywood, I suppose it’s controversial for a woman to be involved with a soon to be divorced television actor while he’s in a discomforting public battle with his soon to be ex-wife over alimony and joint custody of their children. Anywhere she goes, that narrative follows Taylor like a sinister stalker in the night and though her feelings run deep for the blue-eyed Chicago native, I know that she’s quietly growing tired of being the scapegoat for what is beyond her.

“You better go too. I know you. Sipping tea and taking spoons of Robitussin isn’t going to get the job done this time it seems.”

“I’m going. I’m going with a shit ton of questions about why the flu shot is a hoax. I’m not one of those conspiracy theory people, but I don’t know. I might have to start.”

“Take your illuminati ass home and get in the bed.”

“I’m not rich enough to be in the illuminati. They’ll probably be calling me when I make my first hundred million. I’m not there just yet, but I’m working on it.” I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. Even a chuckle would have pulled more energy than I can exert at the moment. I’m currently questioning if I’ll even be capable of moving at a snail’s pace to make it out of the building with the next couple of minutes. I could have been gone already and yet I’m lingering around in this chair with hopes that my imagination will take me home. Where’s Glenda the Good Witch to instruct me to click the heels of my Jimmy Choo pumps so that I’ll be able to suddenly wake up in my bed in Edgewater?

“Get you a man that’s there already.” I knew she was going to say that. I just knew it. Anna will never not find it fascinating how I encounter countless men who earn hundreds of millions of dollars by running a ball around a field, court, or course.

In her words, I, more than the majority of the women in the world, have the perfect opportunity to live life lavishly and worry free by the way of someone else’s finances if I’d only open myself up to the opportunity of dating just one out of the many who flirtatiously attempt to garner some interest out of me. While my financial obligations are the last thing that I’m interested in a man handling for me, if only Anna knew what is going on in my life now.

“Yeah? So that he can think he’s entitled to stress me and all of his other women out because he’s providing materialistic shit? Girl, I refuse to allow a man to turn my head grey and cause bags to be up under my eyes sooner than it should be happening. No thanks. I’d rather be smiling in a Benz that I purchased than to be crying in one that he did.”

I’m naturally a giver. I give credit to my dad for instilling that quality into me. I’ve always struggling with taking or rather being gifted things. The majority of the time, all I wanted for birthdays and Christmas’ were new accessories needed for whatever sport I was playing at the time.

I never pestered either one of my parents to lace me in the latest Jordans, although my dad made sure to surprise me with them at least once a month. If he was due to leave town, he would leave enough money for my mother to handle it. Honor roll report cards always came with great gifts and while Celeste would often ask for the most expressive girly trinket she could think of, I never wanted anything. I was fine with a stack of pancakes from iHop and a day at the park.

What I did ask for was experiences. It never needed to be anything financially burdening or something that specifically catered to my taste alone. I was fine with exploring new exhibits at the Met or taking a random road trip to Philadelphia just for the hell of it. I loved walking around neighborhoods that I didn’t reside in to people watch and observe the different ways in which they express themselves and the culture that we all share.

I’ll never forget when we road on an Amtrak train to Washington, DC and stayed in the district for the weekend. I still consider that to be one of the best times of my life despite my sister’s ridiculous and pompous complaints about her boredom. Though she’s yet to admit it out loud, I know that she now undoubtedly regrets all that she said during that weekend because it was the last family trip, we ever had with him.

“All of his other women? Damn. Why did you have to put it like that?”

“Because men are vile creatures. If women are walking around talking about how much average men aren’t worth shit due to their antics, then use your imagination to think about what men with money and power are doing. I’m not saying all of them are dreadful, but I’ve heard far too much while working within this industry to write it all off as coincidences.” The last portion of my sentence barely made it out as my chest heaved up a rough cough. The furnace that only calmed for a mere couple of seconds ignited with a wild fire and sent a rush of warmth flushing through my chest while the rest of my weakening limps shivered.

“Okay, you need to go, because I’m not trying to get sick. You may not have any dick in your life at the moment, but I do, and I’m trying to get back to it with my health intact.”

“Whatever.”

Like a boxer in a ring attempting to peel himself off of the floor after a knockout, I pulled myself up and out of the comfort of the chair. With every step, my muscles stiffened and the aches throbbing from the sides of my body intensified unexpectedly. My Alexander Wang bag felt like a dozen bricks rested at it’s very bottom once I positioned it over my shoulder and it only slowed down my stride as I made my way to the awaiting SUV.

I could only silently thank God for Fred as he secured me inside the vehicle and warned me that he better not see me in the morning. Thankfully, I followed my gut and decided not to drive. If I were sitting in this parking lot in my own car at this very moment, I probably would have taken off this midnight black Moncler coat and used it as a blanket while I lay in the backseat awaiting a rescue that I never called for.

“Can you please turn up the heat just a bit more?” I’m sure I’m suffocating him but I can’t help that it feels like the temperature precipitously plummeted to ten degrees below zero. The sound of my teeth chattering against one another has surpassed the faint tunes coming from the radio.

“Sure, Ms. Nazaire.”

As the heat increased and swarmed me in the manner that I needed it to, I glanced down at my phone vibrating in my lap. The lone heart emoji was a clear signifier of who was attempting to contact me. He’s the only person in my phone not identified by his name and at this point, it is the most idiotic tactic to keep because I have more than enough photographs of him and the both of us together to implicate me in whatever may happen if we’re caught.

As soon as I slid my thumb across the bottom of the screen to answer, the splendor that is his face filled the frame of my screen. And just like that, I’d been reduced to speechlessness.

“I thought I told you not go to work this morning.” I certainly read the text message as soon as I opened my eyes this morning, but it did absolutely nothing to deter me from doing what I had to do. It was great advice but it had to be brushed off until I handled a number of things at the production studio this morning. Besides, it wasn’t as rough of a day as I thought it would be, effort wise. Aside from speaking throughout segments, we had no guests or anything major to cover.

“I’m staying home tomorrow. Also, look at how early I’m leaving today. It’s still the afternoon. I’m not doing the Podcast.”

The slight shaking of his head was brief and though he quickly stopped, I noticed it. I’m not sure if it’s in reference to this morning’s chosen defiance or the current state of frustration we’re both in for two totally different reasons. Despite my explanation about my occasional absentmindedness being a part of the reason why I needed to hurry home and write out a check for the nine-a.m. maintenance job my mother called to have done on her stove, I omitted the part that truly mattered most to the both of us.

I fear him.

My mind is with him whenever I’m not within his presence. My body yearns for the warmth that soothingly radiates from him whenever we’re within an inch of one another. I can eerily sense and feel him; emotionally and now physically. He evokes a sentiment within me that is at call unceasingly and has intertwined our lives in a manner that I never faced before or expected to come into my life at this point.

My body is now at his mercy. Just the tips of his fingers faintly grazing off the smooth surface of my skin awakens every aspect of me; sending my frame into an uncontrollable frenzy that only he knows how to tame. I don’t know what he did to me that night in New Orleans. I expected to be fucked; most men prefer to turn a woman over on her stomach to consciously strip away any intimacy that may be felt and emotionally clung to during and after those moments when their bodies are adjoined. Despite his unpredictable nature, I did cling to that repeated experience as something that I’d always endure. I should have known that what we shared would be everything but that.

He savored me; deliberately drawing out every single second of it in an effort to achieve a never-ending wordless oath that we’ll never be able to share with anyone else. His eyes bore into mine and spoke to me whenever his lips weren’t whispering into my ear in the midst of the groans spilling from them. My body clung to his, gratifying his silent plea to take possession of me in every way possible.

Our heartbeats created an identical medley as they thrashed against our chests in unison with the increase heat within our cores. I was no longer in control of myself. His flesh played as the remote; pushing buttons to leave me weeping and leaking. I believe I only slept for minutes. Though the clock read that it had been four hours later, it only felt like minutes because the feeling of him hadn’t subsided. If anything, he served as the gasoline to the flames as his tongue awakened me for what turned into another two rounds of him.

I am wordlessly at war with my evolving devotion to him; to us. What if I’m not enough? With the life that he lives, something better always comes along. What am I supposed to do when we’ve arrived to that point?

“You’re so hardheaded. You going out into the cold and being at work all day has most likely made your cold worse. You should have stayed in the bed today. Did you just leave?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“How do you feel?” He tugged on the neck of his hooded Givenchy sweater to loosen it’s pulled tightness around his neck and almond shaped eyes narrowed, intensifying his glare. He’d pull my card if I lied.

“Like shit, honesty. Everything hurts. It even hurts to breathe. I thought I’d be able to tough it out until I can see a doctor tomorrow, but I don’t know. I might have Taylor drive me over to Hackensack University Medical Center when I get home.” And just like that, he sat up from his lazy and laxed position on the couch. As his large palm brushed over the golden curls falling all over his forehead, he stood to his feet. He paces when he’s nervous but it was never my intention to provoke him to do so.

“You feel that bad? You want me to go with you?”

“Odell.” As great as that sounds, I shouldn’t have to explain why that can’t be. He already knows the answer to that.

“You’re going to the hospital.”

“Yes, so that I can speed up the process of getting some medication. I’ll be able to get prescriptions tonight rather than waiting until tomorrow. That’s all. It’s going to be an in and out thing. Also, you have an event tonight. Did you forget?” He’s heading into Manhattan to promote the launch of his Air Force I collaboration by speaking with fans and a couple of groups of kids who won a contest to be able to meet him and have their shoes autographed. I know he doesn’t want to miss that because being a great role model for the youth is one of the primary reasons why he does what he does. He loves kids, so disappointing them for no legit reason doesn’t make much sense.

“I didn’t forget. If I don’t go, the least I can do is come and stay at your house so that I can make sure you’re taken care of until you’re better.”

“And spread my germs to you?”

“What is it with you and your love for being difficult? You hate to cooperate.” I’ve heard that before. Actually, I’ve heard it far too many times. It’s been said that I have an answer for everything before even hearing the complete scenario or question being asked of me. I can be somewhat of an overthinker. Well, not somewhat.

I am an overthinker, but I’m not admitting that out loud because it’ll give people the ammunition to call me out on it whenever they feel like it and I’m not with the shits. It is never my intention to do it to be difficult or uncooperative as he just called it. I tend to try and side with logic first before I jump into anything. Unnecessarily spreading my germs isn’t logical. Besides, I tend to go and lay up at my mom’s place whenever I’m not feeling my greatest. She doesn’t always welcome me with open arms, but ultimately, who else do I have to lean on despite her resistance about that?

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. It’s annoying as hell too.” He rolled his eyes to put even more emphasis on what he had to say.

“If you come, don’t complain when you start sniffling and feeling like every part of your body is aching.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take the risk.”

“What time does your event start?” I nearly dropped the phone down onto the carpeted flooring as another rough cough poured out of me. I’m convinced my lungs are going to suddenly fly out of my mouth and land in my lap.

“You sound really bad.”

“I know. What time does the event start?”

“Seven.”

“Oh, you have time. I can’t believe I caught this stupid cold. I was supposed to start my Christmas shopping this weekend. Speaking of, what do you want?” I’ve been trying to think of gifts for him. There’s one in particular that I already have hiding in my closet. I consider that one to be the big gift.

Patek Philippe is a family-owned Genevan luxury watch manufacturer. Their watches are considered to be among the best in the world: full stop. Of all of the other impeccable Swiss watch manufactures with distinguished statuses and sophisticated watches, Patek Philippe has driven itself to the forefront of them all. While it would have been much easier to purchase him a Rolex, he deserves something that is as inimitable as he is. The “Ribbon Joaillerie” watch and its distinctive diamond embellishments that orbit its surface in a glimmering never-ending loop stole my heart as soon as I laid my eyes on it. The spiraling circles of diamonds beautifying the dial was what immediately made me hand over my Citigroup Chairman Card to secure it. It’s the first time I’ve ever spent six figures on a man.

“Supreme stuff. It doesn’t have to be any specific item. Oh, and maybe some art or something.”

“Art or something? Like a painting or a sculpture?”

“Anything. Actually, I want it to be a picture of you. A painting or something of that sort.”

“A painting of me? Are you kidding me?” That’s arguably the most narcissistic gift I could ever give anyone. I can only imagine how much internal cringing I’d be doing while boldly requesting for a painting of myself to gift to be my man. Actually, a canvas painting of Heather, Jazzy, and himself together would be breathtaking. I love that idea so much more.

“No. I’d love that.”

“And where exactly are you going to hang it up? You currently have a camera crew in your house once a week.” He is presently in the midst of filming a docu-series with Lebron James and Maverick Carter’s sports-media company Uninterrupted. Though the majority of it will focus on his comeback throughout the next season, they are filming coverage of his recovery from the ankle injury and his life off of the gridiron.

“In my bedroom. They don’t go in there.”

“We’ll see.”

“Ain’t no we’ll see. That’s what I want. Oh, and you in one of those sexy ass Mrs. Claus outfits.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.” I’m not sure if the driver is focusing on our conversation, but if he is, I’m certainly embarrassed now. His laughter might have made it even worse.

“I’ll call and check on you in a bit.”

“Okay.”

I attempted to take a nap but the physical discomfort served as a disruption to my mental state and kept me awake the remainder of the ride to my home. Traffic wasn’t as disorderly as it usually is during this time of the day, which allowed me to arrive just fifteen minutes over the nearly two-hour timeframe that it’s supposed to take me to get into Edgewater.

“You’re finally home!”

The way Taylor’s voice vibrated off of the walls almost made it seem like my house is completely empty. It was so piercing.

“Yeah.”

I’m not sure what she decided to cook but it smelled appetizing from the moment I stepped into the door. Maybe it’s Italian.

“I watched a bit of the show before making a Whole Foods run. Oh, and I found this bottle of wine upstairs in your room. I hope you don’t mind, because I couldn’t resist.” It was one of the remaining bottles of wine Odell bought me during our weekend getaway. I decided to pack it and take it home.

“You’re drunk?” That’s the last thing that I need her to be.

“I wouldn’t say drunk. I’m feeling pretty good though. Incredible, actually.”

She’s drunk.

“I want you to come with me to the ER, so that I can get checked out for this cold and get prescriptions for it. I wanted you to drive but since you had drinks, I’ll do it.”

“You feel that bad? Oh my God.”

“I’d just rather go now instead of waiting to go to the doctors tomorrow.”

“Let’s go. I just have to grab my coat. I told you to stay home this morning.” If I had the energy, I would have gone upstairs to change into whatever sweatsuit within close reach but I’m not walking up there. I’ve barely stepped away from the door.

“Taylor.” Part of her hazelnut toned wool trench coat hung off of her body as she rushed in my direction. As I nodded my head in the direction of the wine glass in her hand, she took a glance at it.

“Oh.” Before she put it down, the remaining contents inside of it went down her throat. If we both weren’t notorious for finishing entire bottles of wine on our own, I would have thought that something stressful or a man were driving her to drink so heavily today.

You good?

I read the message as I stood at the very top of my porch.

Yeah. Headed there now. Taylor’s drunk, so I’m going to drive.

Of all the days for her to get drunk, it just had to be this one.

Drunk? The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. I’m just going to meet you there.

As I slid into the passenger seat, apprehension immediately caused my eyes to bulge out of my face. His stubbornness will probably be the one thing that’ll always make me want to reprimand him.

You better not.

I-80 West was the fasted route. It took me to Exit 64B within seven minutes. As we walked through the parking lot, I slipped Taylor one of the cough drops I had in my pocket so they wouldn’t frown upon the whiff of the alcohol oozing from her breath any time she opened her mouth up to speak and I sprayed her coat with the mini bottle of perfume I keep in my purse to further mask it.

It’s very seldom that I use my status as a trump card for perks. Often times, it just happens and I go along with the flow. In this case, I used it. One autograph for the registration clerk served as a fast pass through the paperwork to process me through the emergency room and straight into triage. The hundred and two fever and slightly raised blood pressure rose the severity of my flu like symptoms to somewhat of an urgent case though I’d beg to differ. Luckily for me, the examination room was built to only fit two patients and thus far, I’m the only one in it.

“Did you see that bald guy nurse?”

“What bald nurse?”

“The one who walked past us out in the hallway. I’m not even into bald guys but he’s hot.” Like a child in a store, her curiosity kept her out of the seat next to the bed, and urged her to walk around examining everything in sight. Though she didn’t touch much, she looked on and read off whatever she thought I’d be just as interested in knowing about. Now I think she’s starting to see shit, because there was no bald nurse in that hall way. If she’s talking about who I assume she’s saw, that was a woman.

“Right in here?”

That voice couldn’t be mistaken no matter how much I desired to be hallucinating in a reaction to whatever drug they intend to give me for the pain I’m feeling. It’s that soft depth filled tone that plays like the sweetest medley in my dreams when I’m resting and fills my thoughts at random moments throughout the day when I am diligently executing every task on my schedule. It evokes chills and a throbbing within my center that nears me to the point of erupting.

I could choke him right now.

Behind a visibly annoyed Ben, he appeared in the doorway barely discreet in his black and vivid yellow attire. The Supreme beanie on his head barely covered his signature platinum blonde curls and casual dreads as they loosely hung out of the very front of it. His light caramel skin was without a single blemish as it always is.

God, he’s beautiful.

“Hey, big sister Sarai. I heard my favorite sister was in the hospital and I rushed here right away. I was hanging out with my boy, so I figured I’d bring him with me.” Both of my eyebrows rose as my head dropped back. Ben slowly panned his eyes to Odell and instantly rolled them in response to the nonchalant shrugging of his broad shoulders. What the hell is he talking about?

“Ben told them he was your brother so we could get in. I mean, it was either that or I was gon’ say that I’m your husband.”

“I’m going to fuck you up. You do know that, right?” If I had the energy, I would do it right now. His rebelliousness is absolutely pointless within this moment. It’s a trait that I’ve always admired about him from afar and now that admiration is coming back like a thief in the night to haunt me.

“I’m so confused. Maybe I’m a little drunker than I thought. What are you two doing here?” Taylor wagged her finger like a scolding mother as she twisted her head back and forth to take in the additional presence within the room. I had no set date or specific timeframe for when I intended to explain what’s been going on to her, but I planned to do it at some point. We share just about everything but I’m still trying to navigate all of this and figure it out on my own, which is why I’m purposefully avoiding any additional opinions.

“I’m going to sit in the car. Ya’ll two motherfuckers are annoying with this sneaking shit.” The hint of playfulness in his tone did not match the expression on his face. While my lover found it to be all so hilarious, a confused Taylor glared at me with a questioning expression that I did not want to have to answer to. I never thought I’d ever say it, but I was sad to see Ben walk out. If anything, I needed him to remain in place to be the comedic relief or better yet the distraction from the verbal questionnaire that is sure to come from my friend.

“The doctor came in here yet? What did he say?” As his large palm meshed into my forehead to serve as his own personal thermometer, I smacked it out of my way.

“Why don’t you listen?”

“I told you that I was coming. Don’t act surprised.”

“And I told you not to come.”

“And I didn’t listen. What’s next?” My frustration rose with every word that slipped past his supple lips.

“Since when are ya’ll such close friends? Like three months ago, you were ready to argue with me about why you two couldn’t be cool and now you’re the best of friends? What?” She finally flopped down in the chair that was in place for her to relax in and she looked on between the two of us as if we were two guilty souls. I may be the only guilty one.

“Sarai Nazaire?” A middle-aged white woman donning blue scrubs and a white lab coat cheerily entered the room with a chart in her hand and a stethoscope loosely hanging around her neck. I faintly raised my hand to single myself out so she wouldn’t confuse me with Taylor.

“I’m Dr. Shepard.”

“Oh snap. Like Grey’s Anatomy?” Why did I bring Taylor?

“Yes, just like that. I get that all the time. I’m not Meredith though. I’m Dr. Jane Shepard.”

“Nice to meet you Dr. Shepard.” I didn’t extend my hand to her because hers aren’t gloved and I’ve been using mine to cover my mouth during the coughing spells.

“So, it says here that you’ve been having flu like symptoms. I see the hundred and two fever. You’re visibly sweating. Tell me anything else you’re been feeling and for how long.”

“I start feeling sick a few days ago and it just got progressively worse. I feel chills, aching muscles, fatigue, a horrible headache, my nose is stuff up.”

“Don’t forget the sore throat, baby.” I was getting to it before he interrupted.

“Baby?” Oh my God. I should have let her finish off the rest of that bottle without any interruptions.

“Have you been taking anything?”

“Tylenol and cold medication. Robitussin DM.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“I’m going to take a listen to your lungs. You mind unbuttoning your blouse for me?”

“No.” Odell reached his hands in for the small buttons on the Zara dress shirt covering the upper portion of me and I rapidly smacked his hands down.

She only needed me to unravel the first few buttons so she’d be able to easily reach her hand down into my top to access my chest and back.

“You’re definitely congested. Are you allergic to any medications?”

“No.”

“Based upon the date of your last period, I have to ask, do you think that you could be pregnant right now?”

“Oh, dear God no. Absolutely not.” Taylor’s abrupt answer and laughter was nearly condescending. We’ve had far too many conversations about kids being something we’ll worry about later on down the line because we have so many aspirations that we’re working towards accomplishing now.

If a sewing needle suddenly dropped onto the floor, it would have sounded off like a vibrant bass within a stadium due to the stillness within the room. All eyes panned down on me while I had every urge to unexpectedly combust into a gust of nothingness so that I wouldn’t have to expose the anxiety I’ve been dealing with since we boarded the private jet to leave New Orleans.

My periods have always been slightly irregular and may sometimes skip a month, but God only knows how much I did not need one of those skips to happen this month. I haven’t been on birth control in three years. I decided to stop taking the pill because I had no use for it anymore and wanted to regulate my hormones and cycles. It’s been smooth sailing ever since because I haven’t had any men in my bed and I haven’t been in any of theirs until now. I’ve always been careful. Always. Even with the few years I spent in a relationship, I’ve never had unprotected sex until I shared my body with the man sitting at the foot of this bed.

“I….”

What was once one set of questioning eyes, turned into three, but all I could focus on was his. I awaited the grimace, but it never showed itself within his facial expression. Much like everyone else, he was awaiting the answer that would involve his fate just as much as it would mine.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m just not one hundred percent sure.”

And there it is. My reality. I truly don’t know. I’ve driven past a few Walgreens, Rite Aid, and CVS stores since it all happened and my lack of courage kept me from going inside to purchase what would give me a verdict to either ease or intensify the stress. Back in Louisiana, what should have been a trip to a pharmacy for a Morning After pill when the sun began peaking beyond the curtains and cascading down on us turned into yet another escapade of him filling me again.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

“Taylor!”

“That’s not a problem. We’ll collect a urine sample to measure your HCG level. It’ll be quick. A nurse should be in the room within the next two minutes or so with a cup. It’s just protocol so that we’re on the safe side when administering medication to you. She’s also going to do a rapid influenza test so that we can verify those flu symptoms you’re having. Your symptoms align with it, but we still have to run the test. She’s going to swab the back of your nose.” 

“Okay.”

“In the meantime, just relax. Once we get the results back, we’ll proceed from there. Sounds good?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

The nurse couldn’t come with the plastic cup fast enough. I nearly fell onto the floor as I leapt out of the bed once she did. Locking myself in the bathroom is what eased the spell of anxiety being triggered by all eyes focusing in on me. What should have been a two to three-minute process turned into fifteen as I sat there wallowing in my thoughts. I never wanted my apprehension to be on display in front of him. I didn’t need any of what I’ve been dealing with being a conversation until it was absolutely necessary.

“You okay baby?” His knock was light but I could undoubtedly sense his urgency.

“I’m fine.” It’s far too late to hide now.

“The nurse is back. You want me to give the cup to her?” This man wants me to hand over a sample of my urine to him? Seriously?”

“No. I’m coming out.” 

Once I handled the hygienic aspect of things, I finally stepped out of the bathroom with the cup wrapped into two pieces of paper towel and I timidly handed it over to the nurse. Once I was seated again, she swabbed my nose just as the doctor informed me, she would.

“Thank you. I’ll be quick.”

I wished she would have offered to take me with her. I wouldn’t have minded walking to whatever laboratory that she’s going to drop that off to.

“How long has this been going on?”

Her lean leg crossed over the other and Taylor sat back with a knowing smirk on her face. Her haughtiness in figuring out the obvious would have been hilarious at some other time.

“Months.” His answer came with a shrug. His tone was so blasé that it nearly made it seem like the entire world knows about this and she’s the only one who’s late to the party.

“Months? You hid this for months?”

“T, can we have the room for just a minute or two?”

“So, you can talk about your baby?” The lingering headache seemed to strengthen at what she thought was some sardonic joke. Her irritation about being left in the dark is justified but now is not the time to admonish everything that I am. I’d rather she stand before me and release her frustrations in a private setting and away from him.

“Taylor, please?”

“I’ll go. I’m going to the waiting room. While there, should I think about baby shower themes? Maybe Tinkerbell if it’s a girl and Finding Nemo if it’s a boy? Oh no. I know. A New York Giants theme sounds so much better; a little cliché but better.”

“Taylor.”

“I’m going.”

She tenaciously cut her eyes at Odell sparking laughter from him in response.

“Cute though. Really cute.”

Those were her last words as she disappeared down the hall, finally leaving us in the privacy that I needed. The lack of commotion in the hallway kept my attention focused on his striking face. I thought I would have seen a rush of nurses running a gurney down the long hall and into emergency surgery. If not that, then maybe a crying baby and a fretted mother who can’t seem to figure out why her child has been crying all night long. I need a distraction

“I don’t want you to be upset with me. I should have been more careful. I…”

“Sarai. Upset with you about what? The unknown? I’m not upset with you. I’m not upset at all. I’m here. I’m right here with you. It’s not just you.”

“I know but…”

“What’s the but for? Whatever happens, happens. We’ll be fine.” Will we be? I don’t believe I’m with child but hypothetically speaking, what happens if I am? How do I explain a sudden pregnancy to a man that no one knows about? I am not Mary and this is not the Immaculate Conception. How do we navigate still being in the stages of exploring and learning all there is to know about one another while preparing to be parents to a child that we did not plan?

Both of his hands reached for my thighs. This time, I had no energy to smack them away as they began a pacifying caress. I just want to go to sleep. Is that too much to ask for? In the midst of what should be a temporary illness, the weight of erratic decisions rests on my shoulders and is further deteriorating my mood. He’s in the prime of his life. If people aren’t talking about Tom Brady, they’re talking about him. He’s not ready for any of this. He doesn’t need this.

“Relax.”

“What?”

“You keep tensing up. I can feel it. Relax.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

If it were, I would have already been home sleeping.

“It’s as simple as we want it to be. I don’t mind being your Big Daddy and someone else’s daddy. It’s cool with me. A kid that looks like us? We can both retire now and use the kid for money. Plus, we’re both athletic, so our kid is bound to be a pro athlete. Yeah, our retirement plan is set.” Every muscle within my upper core clenched to an unbearable tightness and yet I laughed anyway. With my mouth being open, I know I’m sharing every bit of this virus with him. However, his words tickled me in a manner that I needed. I haven’t laughed all day long. If anyone is more than capable of making me do so, it’s him.

“My what?”

“Your Big Daddy.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You sound like Stephen A. Smith. Ridiculous. Conspicuous. Prosperous. Expeditiously. He’s forever using some unnecessarily big word to describe his frustrations.” The joke about my fellow ESPN brethren amused me even more. He is absolutely right and it’s what we all love about Stephen A. He’s animated, exaggerated, and his outbursts about the eternally cursed New York Knicks will stand the test of time for sports fans. I constantly have a good laugh when I stop by his dressing room for conversations. He’s been a mentor to me from the moment we’ve met and my admiration for him is boundless.

“Don’t talk about Stephen A. He’s great.”

“He stays on my ass though. He tends to be hot and cold with me. One minute, he’s praising my talent and in the next breath, he’s tired of me.”

“He appreciates you. I promise you that. Steven A. is tough, but he believes you’re the heart of the team. It’s why he can be so critical.”

“I watched the discussion ya’ll had about my pending contract situation. You really think I should be the highest paid receiver?” He’s the most explosive one.

“We can make arguments about Antonio Brown and Julio Jones, but when people think of wide receivers, your name is the first name to come out of most people’s mouths. You have the highest selling jersey of any receiver in the league and you’re the one who fills those seats at the Giants stadium. You have been the heart of the team’s offense for the past three years. Prior to your injury, they averaged twenty-three points in three games when you were on the field for the most snaps. They averaged thirteen point six points when you weren’t out there. You’re worth almost ten points per game with your ability to take a short gain and turn it into a long touchdown. Teams literally run their defenses strictly off stopping you. Get paid. You deserve it.”

All I could see is pearly white porcelain as his eyes further narrowed the more his smile spread across his face. As soon as he leaned in for a kiss, I drew my head back.

“Germs.”

“The way you know your shit is sexy as fuck. You want my last name?”

“Shut up, you…”

Dr. Shepard stepping back into the room ceased my reply. And just like that, my nerves were rattled all over again.

“Well, the pregnancy test is negative. Flu test is positive. I’m not sure which way you wanted those results to go, but that’s the verdict.” I know it was supposed to be witty but it didn’t register as such as I signed in a relief that wasn’t as fulfilling as I thought it would be. No, I’m not ready to be a mother. I’m not in that space just yet. More than anything, what I’m now focused on is the person who would have been alongside me in the journey if the results were the opposite. I would not have been alone. I commend him for that.

“I got a flu shot.”

“When did you get it?”

“A little less than two weeks ago.”

“It takes the body about two weeks after the vaccination to develop immune protection. You probably were exposed to influenza viruses sometime since then. Also, there are different strains of the flu. The vaccination only protects you against certain ones. You may have been exposed to one that is very different from whatever ones the vaccination is designed to protect you against.”

“Well screw whoever was around me and had been sick.” She and my man shared laughter at my words.

I’m serious.

“We’re going to give you Tamiflu. The directions on how to take it will be in your discharge instructions and the pharmacy will give you some too. You can take Tylenol for the fever. Rest. You need a lot of that. No work for a couple of days because you have a ton of germs right now. Hot foods and drinks. Steamy showers will help with congestion and the stuffy nose. Vitamin C is great, so orange juice and they have the cough drop like ones. I emphasize rest. Getting rid of the flu is really a waiting game.”

“You hear that Sarai? Rest. Lots of rest.” If I had no class, my middle finger would have been up and towards him.

“If you feel like your symptoms are persisting, come back.”

“Thank you, Dr. Shepard.”

“The pleasure is all mine. The nurse will be back with the forms and prescriptions.”

As soon as we were left alone again, I immediately slipped back into my coat for much needed warmth.

“I’m about to head out so I can make it into the city on time. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sending Renee over so that she can make you some soup or something. So, be expecting her. You need something from the store?”

“I can make the soup myself.”

“Anything you need from the store?” See? This is what I mean.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Alright, so I’ll see you when I get back. Be in the bed.”

“Uhm.” He knew I’d swerve his lips, so he softly planted his kisses on my warm forehead.

“See you in a bit.”

The nightfall car ride to Walgreens and finally to my home entailed of more conversing than I wanted to have. I was nearly ordered to confirm and deny many of her assumptions, feed into her baseless jokes about a baby that she now knows is non-existent, and defend myself against my supposed lying by omission as we spoke on the phone while I was away. She then proceeded to take credit for our relationship; citing the Bleacher Report party run in as all being a part of her master plan. I beg to differ. I still think it’s a coincidence that he saw me there, but I’ll let her run with that fairytale if it makes her feel better and keeps her off of my case.

“I’m going to lay down.”

“As you should. It’s not like you have to do anything anyway. Your man’s chef is currently making you tea and soup.”

“Taylor.”

“And he arranged for a driver to take me to the airport tomorrow so that you don’t have to get out of bed.”

“Taylor.”

“And he shoots up your club.”

“You know what, goodnight Taylor.”

Lavender; I doused everything in it. I lathered my body up with Dove’s Purely Pampering Relaxing Body Wash while in the shower and spent an extended time inhaling the steam to loosen my nasal passages. Once I was dried off, I moisturized my skin with whipped shea butter fused with lavender essential oil. I lit a match to my Joe Malone London Lavender & Lovage candle, and finally sprayed my pillow cases with Bath & Body Works lavender pillow spray. If I don’t get the best sleep of my life after all of that, I’ll know that I’m suffering from insomnia.

Renee’s coconut ginger carrot chicken soup and the cup of ginger tea certainly made me think of my mother because it’s her key remedy for illnesses. The rich flavoring and natural spice of the ginger eased the congestion discomfort in my chest.

I opted out of the television because it would only deserve as a distraction to the rest, I not only needed but wanted. Unfortunately, what I thought was going to be a long night of slumber ended up being nothing more than on and off naps.

Bergamot, cedar musk, and hints of sage superseded the rest inducing scent that once filled my room. With only a hint of moonlight peaking beyond the white curtain, the man of my affection quietly dropped what appeared to be a duffle bag onto the floor and began to shuffle around the open space within my bedroom to sort himself out.

“I’m not sleeping.” His pace was slower than his usual because he didn’t want to ruin whatever sleep he assumed I was getting.

“You should be.”

“I keep taking naps.”

“You hungry or something?”

“No. Not really. You?”

“I’m good. There’s more than just soup downstairs. I had something before I came up.”

“How was the event?”

“It was nice. The kids were great. They enjoyed themselves.” With every piece of jewelry that he removed; I could hear it clinking against the dresser as he placed them down one by one. “You smell great.”

“Thank you.” I love when he chuckles. It’s so lighthearted and innocent, especially following a compliment. I always want to hug him right after. It’s no different now.

“You look good too.” Yellow against his skin is defining. The whole time he sat with me in that examination room, I couldn’t look away. Even in this darkness, I still cannot do so. My body is riddled with a confusion that I cannot define. I can feel every single flu symptom there is and yet, my nipples are impulsively stiffening against this t-shirt of his that I’m wearing. The prickling in my thighs is increasing with every article of clothing that he removes. I should make him go into the guest room.

“Thank you. Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying.”

His presence kept my eyes open and trailing behind his every move until his almost bare frame slid under the covers and alongside me. I’ve warned him more times than I can count about my germs and yet here he is, basking in them.

“Thank you.”

As he always does when he’s in my bed, he took two of the pillows on his side and tossed them towards my side to lower himself to his liking. I’ve always been someone who loves to lay on way too many of them. It’s probably why I wake up with neck pain every once and a while.

“For what?”

“Taking care of me today.”

“You’re stubborn as hell but it’s what I want to do. It’s my pleasure.”

“Thank you for dealing with my stubbornness too.”

“Of course, baby.”

“And thank you for that yellow coat because I’m keeping it.” That amused him.

“You can have it.”

“Can I have a kiss too?”

“Nah. Germs.”

I used one of the pillows he tossed to whack him in the head. How is he so adorable and maddening all at once?

“Hey, Sarai.”

“Hm?”

His arm extended and slowly snaked around my waist to draw me closer. The skin of his legs melted into mine as they intertwined.

“No Beckham babies today, but later on down the line, for sure, right?”

Beckham babies. Plural. Maybe two boys? Possible two girls? How about the best of both worlds? More than two is out of the question. Twins would ideal. It’s a one shot and done, deal. Actually, no. Two at one time sounds like madness. The genes are strong within his family. I don’t think they stand a chance of genetically inheriting any of my traits. I’ll literally be birthing clones of him in either male or female form. It’s hilarious and yet warming to ponder about.

“Right.”

His lips then met mine.