Tamika forced a laugh and gestured to the food on the counter. “This is my dinner.” She quickly looked away from the concern in Layla’s eyes.
“How are you holding up?”
“Stop.” Tamika set down the spatula and took a deep breath. The anger and frustration simmering near the surface bubbled up in a flash of heat. “I want everyone to stop asking ‘How are you holding up?’ ‘How are you doing?’ ‘Are you okay?’ You, Dana, my dad, Anton, my aunt, my cousins. It’s exhausting! How many times do I have to say that I’m fine?”
Every time someone asked those questions, she wanted to scream because she didn’t want to think about losing the baby. If she didn’t think about the baby, then she could function semi-normally.
Layla fell silent and folded her arms across her midsection. Her neutral expression didn’t convey whether or not she was upset.
Tamika’s cheeks burned with shame at her outburst. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
“You went off a little bit, but you didn’t yell. I won’t ask you that question anymore. If you say you’re fine, then I accept what you say. But if anything changes and you want to talk, you know I’m available.”
Tamika swallowed down the pain. Despite her protestations that she was fine, she was still sorting through her feelings and didn’t know how to express them to anyone. “I know.”
Layla rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to get my clothes and then Elijah and I are leaving.”
“Thanks for letting me stay here. I appreciate it.”
“Of course. You’re one of my best friends.”
Layla pulled her into a brief hug and left the kitchen. Tamika took a plate of eggs, pancakes, and sausage out to the dining table with orange juice.
Soon afterward, Layla came out of the bedroom with her bag. “We’re leaving now,” she announced.
“You guys have fun. See you in a couple of days.” Tamika forced a smile. She’d gotten good at that lately—forcing smiles. Pretending to be happy.
“Maybe,” Elijah said with a wicked grin, taking Layla’s bag and then flinging an arm around her shoulders.
After they left, Tamika couldn’t stand the quiet and turned on the television.
She would be fine, wouldn’t she? She just needed time.
She stared at the plate. She stared at her phone beside the plate. There were several missed calls from Anton—calls she hadn’t returned. She didn’t know what to say to him. Sometimes she was okay, especially when busy with work. But during moments like this, she swore she was about to crack wide open.
Tamika sliced into the stack of pancakes and placed a forkful into her mouth. She chewed without enthusiasm. The normally delicious food tasted like rubbery sandpaper. She forced the pancake down her throat and followed with a swallow of orange juice.
Unable to eat another morsel, she left the meal on the table and went to lie down on the sofa, pulling a throw over her body. Curling into a ball, she closed her eyes.
She missed Anton and wasn’t fine or good or any of the other lies she’d told. Today she saw a pregnant woman walking into a drugstore and seconds later burst into uncontrollable tears. She had to pull over on the side of the road and must have cried for thirty minutes before she was able to pull herself together and continue the drive to Layla’s.
She longed to feel better, more like herself. To do that, maybe she needed to let loose and expel all the sorrow and rage and jealousy that threatened to suffocate her.
24
Anton slowly sipped his Black Russian in the VIP section of a popular club, celebrating the birthday of one of his co-workers with friends and staff from Abraham, MacKenzie & Wong.
The thumping music and flashing lights caused a minor headache, but what else did he have to do but toss back drinks and eat overpriced appetizers? Going home to an empty apartment was not at all appealing. And maybe, just maybe, he could self-medicate with alcohol to ease the pain of losing their baby and pining for Tamika.
He’d found the missing baby items stuffed in the back of the closet in the spare bedroom. Bags and bags of clothes and toys, cute little bows and headbands. He could almost hear Tamika now,“Just in case we have a girl.”
He’d sat in the closet and stared at the bags for a long time before he realized that tears had leaked onto his cheeks. Finally, he stuffed them back in the corner, out of sight—his chest aching, his head pounding.
What was Tamika doing now? She was his heart. Without her, there was nothing there. His chest was… empty.
He stuffed a mini pizza-looking appetizer in his mouth and practically swallowed it without chewing before grabbing another one and shoving it in his mouth, too.
“Damn, bruh, slow down,” a male paralegal said beside him.
