Page 297 of Invisible Bars

Daphnee patted my shoulder gently. “Then that’s all that matters.”

With a sudden burst of energy, she clapped her hands together, the sharp sound cutting through the ambient noise.

“Okay! Now that all the tear-jerking soap opera monologues are out the way, who do I see about a plate?”

I chuckled. “Come on.”

I looped my arm through hers and we made our way into the lively crowd.

As dusk rolled in, the sky began to transform. But just as I started to lose myself in the celebration, a sudden wave of unease tumbled through my stomach, turning my excitement into a knot of dread. I blinked rapidly, pressing a hand to my mouth as I made a beeline for the nearest restroom. I barely made it inside before the nausea surged, overwhelming me in a tidal wave of discomfort.

Throwing up wasn’t an uncommon experience for me; it was an unfortunate side effect of my anxiety—but that felt different. It was like my body was sending out urgent signals, trying to communicate what my mind hadn’t yet grasped.

After a shaky moment, I stepped back outside, only to find Mama Rose waiting for me with an expression of knowing, as though she had already unraveled the truth I hadn’t dared to voice.

She raised an eyebrow, piercing through my dazed state.

“I had a dream about fishes the other night. And every time I have those types of dreams…” Mama Rose paused, allowing her words to hang heavily in the air, before she continued with a playful smirk. “It means someone close to me is already pregnant and don’t know it yet… or they’re about to be.”

“P-Pregnant?!” The word burst from my lips in a frantic rush, tangled in a jumble of shock and disbelief that tugged at my throat, nearly spilling into an outburst.

“My uterus just blinked like it saw Jesus and screamed hallelujah—what does that mean?!”

It didn’t make sense—hell, over ninety percent of my outbursts never did—but it was the only thing my brain could produce at that moment.

Mama Rose chuckled, shaking her head like she’d heard it all before.

“It means it’s time to start buying ginger ale and Gatorade, baby. And don’t forget the crackers—you gon’ need those too.”

I took a step back, my mouth agape, struggling to catch my breath amidst the flurry of emotions that swirled within me.

Pregnant?

That wasn’t supposed to be real—at least not for me, and certainly not at that moment in my life. I’d been so busy—between the block party, dealing with Imanio’s mama and her bullshit, and all the other damn chaos—all of that drew my attention away from something crucial: I had missed my period.

My cycle was always irregular, but still, Inoticedit. That time? I didn’t even think about it. Because honestly... Imanio and I had been having sex like we were making up for lost time. Since the first time, it hadn’t stopped. We didn’t even try to slow down. There were nights I fell asleep in his arms, still catching my breath, and mornings when I woke up to kisses that turned intoeverything else.

We weren’t always careful. It had felt so good tofeel good… for once.

To be desired, touched, safe, and loved.

In those fleeting moments, I wasn’t thinking about the potential consequences or the possibility of an unexpected pregnancy; all that occupied my mind was how good he felt inside of me.

Another tic flinched across my cheek, and I whispered, “Bluetooth babies?! Who connected me?!”

Mama Rose bit her lip, desperately trying to stifle her laughter, yet her eyes sparkled with affection and understanding.

“I just threw up ‘cause I moved too fast,” I muttered, attempting to talk myself down as another tic jerked through my neck, sending a jolt of anxiety cascading through me.

“Somebody call WebMD—I need a second opinion and a priest!” I exclaimed, the absurdity of the moment crashing over me like a wave, leaving me breathless and teetering on the edge of panic and hilarity.

Mama Rose finally chuckled, slow and low. “You don’t need no priest, sugar; you need to sit down and take a breath.”

“I did breathe,” I said, pacing now.

“You gon’ cry or call somebody?” she asked gently, folding her arms like this wasn’t her first rodeo.

I paused mid-step, turning to meet her gaze, and whispered, “If I p-pee on a stick and it comes back positive, I’m running away.”