As I went to retrieve my now-lukewarm leftovers, I came back to the sofa to find that Theo had already responded:
I plead the fifth on all counts, Cassandra. Your profile actually came up on my explore page for some reason; must be an algorithm thing, I believe. Small world, huh? I thought I’d have a gander at your page and throw you a few likes here and there. It’s a complimentary service I provide every now and again. xx
I shook my head. He’s hard-headed, this one. We spent the next thirty minutes or so messaging our quick whips back and forth as I ate my dinner. His dry, sarcastic humour mirrored mine perfectly, making our conversations effortless. In an ideal world, he’d be the perfect date for my mum’s wedding. I kept that thought on the back burner – just in case I could make it happen.
I sent a final message before getting ready for bed:
Well,Theo: it’s been fun. Thanks for all of your cute comments by the way; it’s nice to know you appreciate something beautiful when you see it. *tosses braids* I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited for Friday; I’m going to try and be the perfect host. What time were you thinking of coming over?
I took a quick shower, thinking of Theo as I did so. I was actually going through with spending the night with him and that’s when the small bubbling of nerves began to appear in the pit of my stomach. Sade would be so proud of me right now; I was actually about to go all the way with this incredibly sexy man and it was what I deserved. For the first time in my dating life, I felt empowered.
After my shower, I hopped back into bed and checked my Instagram for the last time before knocking out. Theo had replied one final time:
Well, according to the booking, I’m to arrive at yours for 7 p.m., right? I’ll pull up to where I came before, oh and let me know if your place has free parking or if I’ll need a permit. And don’t toss your braids too much now – I know how heavy they can be. Save all of that for Friday.
I smiled to myself and put my phone on charge. Friday was going to be fun.
The next day however, I couldn’t get out of bed.
I’d woken up with the most excruciating stomach pain I’d ever encountered, as well as the overwhelming need to throw up. My alarm buzzed at 6.30 a.m., and as it continued to drill itself into my eardrums, I threw the phone across the room. As I tried to get myself out of bed, I suddenly felt the room spinning, and had to lie back down. Toby was in the corridor, crying for his food and my phone’s alarm was still going off in the corner of my room. It was pure chaos this morning and I didn’t understand what was happening.
I crawled off my bed, getting on my hands and knees as I slowly made my way towards my phone. After turning off the alarm, I crawled towards the bathroom, my eyes squinting in a bid to keep the room from eternally spinning. I finally reached the bathroom and that was almost like a signal for my stomach to expel whatever demons it had lying inside it – via both my upper and lower orifices.
I slowly clambered my way to the toilet bowl, and by this point I was sweating from every pore, horrified at this sudden and mysterious illness. As the remnants of last night’s meal began to pour into the bowl, I tried to recall the events of yesterday; everything was pretty normal at work and I didn’t believe I had come across anyone who had presented as ill? Everything seemed fine when I came home.I’d spoken to Theo for a while, and had some leftovers …
Now that I’d come to think about it, the leftovers – which consisted of a piece of chicken breast, vegetables and some fried rice I’d cooked about three days ago – did have a little bit of a smell to them, but I’d ignored it. Did the food taste a little funny at the time of eating it? Sure, but I had put that down to me constantly reheating it in the microwave. I’d never had food poisoning before, so after flushing the toilet and crawling back on all fours to my bedroom (Toby would have to wait a few more moments for breakfast, I feared), I picked up my phone and texted Kofi:
Morning, Kofi, I’m so sorry to do this last minute, but I don’t think I’ll be able to come in today! I had some dodgy leftovers and I’ve woken up in absolute agony; I don’t want to risk being ill and distracted at work. I’ll log into work from home in the afternoon though so if you need anything, please just pop through an email xx
After sending the text, I groaned and attempted to open my eyes fully. The room was still spinning and my guts were still on fire. With all the strength I could muster, I stood up and slowly shuffled to the kitchen to give Toby his food. Finding some paracetamol in the drawer, I knocked a couple of the pills back, filled my Stanley cup with water and went to lie down on the sofa in my living room. I needed this virus gone within the next twelve hours, PRONTO. Wasn’t my body aware that it needed to prepare itself for Friday? I suddenly had a fleeting thought of me accidentally defecating on Theo’s penis mid-stroke.
Absolutely fucking not. Desperate times called for desperate actions. AndDesperate Housewives. The show had long been my ‘sick day’ guilty pleasure to watch whenever I was feeling under the weather, so gathering the little strength I had, I linedup a few episodes of the show for background noise, gathered my laptop and charging cable to the living room and opened up Deliveroo on my phone. I needed to force myself to be well before tomorrow night, by any means necessary. Using the grocery tab, I ordered myself a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and some Gaviscon tablets, three 1litre bottles of water, some peppermint tea, a packet of ginger biscuits and Jacob’s crackers, a packet of mints and a loaf of sourdough bread.
Of course this happens to me – right before the most anticipated night of my life. Cancelling was simply out of the question too, I’d let too much excitement build over the last few days for me to back out now. After twenty minutes, my delivery arrived and I crawled my way to the intercom to let the delivery driver in. I was in absolute agony, still waiting for the paracetamol to kick in. The driver knocked on my door and I somehow gathered the strength to get on my feet to open it. The driver gave me a concerned look as he passed me the grocery bag – I was doubled over, with my hands on my knees, squinting up at him. I’m sure he thought I was in labour or something.
‘You all right, love?’ he muttered behind his balaclava. The concern in his voice was touching.
‘Oh yeah, I’m OK, thanks!’ I said back, trying to sound as chirpy and as upbeat as possible. It didn’t work, however, and it came out as somewhat of a distressed groan. I took the bag from him and hastily closed the door, one hand cradling my aching belly and the other arm cradling the groceries. After making myself a cup of peppermint tea, I hotfooted it to the bathroom once again to relieve my poor bowels.
The rest of the morning was spent splayed out on the sofa with my laptop, periodically checking and responding to my work emails. Kofi texted me back:
Yeesh! Sorry to hear that, sis! Take all the time you need and I hope you feel better soon. It’s mad quiet today anyway so I’ve got you covered xx
Sade following suit with a text a few minutes later:
My babes! I’m hearing you’re unwell, what’s up? Is there anything I can do??? Xxx
Word of my stomach upset had travelled fast it seemed. These two were moving like an old married couple already. I texted Sade back.
Rah. Kofi already told you, huh? You guys are getting very comfortable, innit? Love that for you both, and, no, I’m OK, thanks; I’ve got water and some dry food so I should be OK! Xxx
As much as I was ecstatic that Kofi and Sade were getting on like a house on fire, I couldn’t help but feel light twinges of envy on my part. Kofi and Sade getting together just seemed too easy. But that was the amazing thing about Sade when it came to her dating life and relationships; she always seemed to come across the good guys. Her dating stories – whilst sometimes chaotic – always ended well. She was always able to find the good guys when dating in London. Meanwhile, I was out here paying for the privilege of being treated like a halfway decent human – totally of my own free will, obviously. Sade, in the meantime, could land a date or get laid without even trying. I swear, the woman made it look like a hobby. Love her always, but it was definitely something that bubbled to the forefront of my mind on occasion.
Halfway into season three ofDesperate Housewives, I’d taken a nap and had awakened to find a flurry of messages from mybrother. It wasn’t like him to randomly text in the middle of the afternoon, so I knew it was something urgent.
Cass! Bianca’s in labour we think. Are you at work? We’re coming to St Tommy’s.
Please call or text when you’re free. I’m panicking man. Mum and Dad aren’t answering.
