You have no damn idea,I thought.
I decided to sayfuck itand come clean. I couldn’t hold water no damn way, so trying to keep a secret wasn’t the best thing for me to try and do. I would only stress myself the hell out.
“If you call being sick for the past few weeks, throwing up everything I ate, then finally making an appointment to see Kalia on Friday, and finding out I’m eight weeks pregnant… then yeah, I’d say I had a bad weekend.”
“Wait… you had sex?!” Kennedy damn near shouted, telling the entire fucking twentieth floor.
I got up and dragged her to her office and slammed the door.
“What the fuck, Kennedy?!”
It’s your hormones… it’s your hormones. Do not punch your friend in the face, Jameela.
The Lord was seriously testing me. And I wanted to cry, because I didn’t know why.
“I’m sorry!” She whispered.
Oh, now she wants to freakin’ whisper. Ugh! Why is this my life?
I don’t know how many times I asked myself that question since Friday. However, I was still waiting for the anvil to fall out of the sky with the answers to my life’s problems attached.
So far… no such luck.
“When the hell did you have sex? I was kind of hoping that I got to hook you up with someone.”
“Firstly, that’s all you got to say to what I just told you? Secondly, why would I let you hook me up with one of your stuck-up ass lawyer friends… all of whom I know… no fucking thank you.”
Kennedy held her hands up and fell into her office chair.
“So you had sex–and got pregnant. That is some wild shit! Who’s the lucky man?”
I bit on my fingers, fidgeting in my chair. I wasn’t sure what she was going to say, following the delivery of the rest of my news.
“Umm… I don’t know.”
Kennedy’s eyes penetrated me… doing that freaky shit again with her internal x-ray scanner.
Then she laughed… loud. Loud as hell. And I stared back at her because I didn’t know what the fuck was so funny. My life was falling apart as I approached forty and Kennedy was sitting her ass behind her big oak desk, laughing like I was Kat Williams and just put on a fucking comedy show for her behind.
I glared at her with the evilest evil eye I could muster.
“What do you mean you don’t know, Jameela?” Kennedy managed to get her question out between cackles and tears rolling down her face.
“I had a one-night stand, okay. I didn’t give my real name, and while he was buried balls deep, I believe he gave me a fake name as well.”
Now Kennedy was smacking her hands against the desk, laughing even louder–if that was even possible.
“Well, shit. You surprise me, Meela.”
She was so damn entertained. And before I knew it, I picked up a stack of sticky notes and threw them at her ass. They smacked her right in her forehead.
That’s what she gets.
Her laughs died on her lips.
“Did you just throw a bunch of sticky notes at me?”
“You deserved it! Now can we be serious for a second?”
