We’re at the hospital, sis. They are saying something about her birthing plug still being intact but she’s in a lot of pain. Call when you’re free.
Oh shit; was I about to be an auntie? Bianca wasn’t due for another couple of weeks, but I was in too much pain to even think about leaving the flat today. Equally, this would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I had to be there for my little brother. I suddenly felt a lurch in my stomach as the room spun, and threw up in the bucket I had sitting nearby. This was incredibly frustrating. It had been four hours and I’d given my body loads of water, medication and even a little nap. What more did it need??
After pulling myself together, I called my brother on FaceTime, silently praying that Bianca hadn’t given birth yet. He answered on the first ring – God, I was grateful. I could hear the excitement in his voice, feel the weight of what this moment meant for him. He’s wanted to be a father for as long as I can remember, and now, he was on the cusp of everything he’d dreamed of.
‘Cass! Ahh, fucking hell, man, thanks for calling back – are you at work? We’re in the hospital now – did you get my texts?’ He was a bramble of nerves as he tripped over his sentences, frantic. I needed him to calm down.
‘Bro? I need you to take a couple of deep breaths for me,OK? Just follow me. Breathe in … and breathe out. Just like that. Do that for me a couple of times.’
Steven followed my guidance as he took a couple of deep breaths; his expression was slightly frantic, but overall he looked excited, making me feel a lot more at ease. ‘Sorry, sis. I just didn’t know what to do, Mum and Dad aren’t picking up or anything. Are you – why are you wearing a bonnet at work?’
‘Because I’m at home! You really think I’d wear a bonnet to work? I’m really sick at the moment so I’m not in today – is Bianca in labour? How is she??’
Steven panned his phone camera to a smiling-yet-still-heavily-pregnant Bianca, who was sitting on one of those exercise balls, rubbing her stomach and bouncing up and down.
‘Hey Cassie! Girl, I’m still pregnant haha. The doctors said I have Braxton Hicks, which is what I said when we were at home, but your bro didn’t wanna hear it!’ Bianca looked radiant; her skin was glowing unlike anything I’d ever seen and she was wearing a beautiful white oversized maxi dress that showed off her perfectly round bump. She was going to be such a beautiful mother.
At that, Steven jumped in. ‘Nah, I was just trying to be careful, innit? She woke me up this morning talking about contractions, and then—’
Bianca cut him off. ‘Yeah, andthenI told you the contractions and pain stopped after an hour! I said we didn’t have to come all the way here – that it was probably just Braxton Hicks.’
Steven turned the camera back to himself with a look of exasperation. ‘OK, but what do you expect me to do when you’re yelling in pain, and then suddenly start going on about “Braxton this” and “Braxton that”? In my head, I’m thinking: what’s Toni Braxton got to do with her going into labour?!’
At that, Bianca and I burst into fits of laughter. Men could be so clueless at these things.
‘Bro? I actually CANNOT with you right now. What did the doctor say? Are they gonna observe her or what?’ Steven panned the phone camera back to Bianca again, who answered.
‘Yeah, basically. They said we can go home. I’m definitely not in labour and they had me bouncing on this ball to see if it would trigger any further contractions just to be on the safe side. I’ve been on this for an hour but nothing, so we’re gonna get going in a second.’
Phew. Good to know they weren’t in labour yet. That brief moment of chaos weirdly gave me a second wind – a little shot of adrenaline when I needed it most. After getting off the call with Steve, I took another dose of Pepto-Bismol and decided to walk around the flat a little to see if I could walk upright without my stomach doubling over in pain again. After a few laps around the living room and a quick cuddle with Toby – who was confused and almost resentful of my presence in the house due to him being so used to having the flat to himself during the day – I took another dose of Paracetamol and headed back to the sofa with the packet of Jacob’s crackers. If I could keep a couple of the crackers down without throwing up, then it would be a sign that I was on the mend. I slightly chewed on the edges of a cracker as I scrolled through my Instagram feeds – it had been so long since I’d had a sick day that I almost didn’t know what to do with myself outside of sleeping or watching TV. I needed to be productive in some way, shape or form, and rotting on the sofa all day just wasn’t going to cut it for me.
I scrolled through my notifications to find a fresh onslaught of engagement from none other than Theo himself, with his last ‘likes’ being sent just over forty-five minutes ago. I’d wanted to believe that this was just an extra service he’d added on to the ‘overnight stay’ option perhaps; something to make his clients feel extra special. I logged into theOuiMeetapp just tosee if I’d missed any fine print or extra services, but I hadn’t. All of his Instagram engagement was organic.
I couldn’t quite work out what his game was, in all honesty. On one hand, he’d initiated a boundary with his clients regarding developing a relationship outside of the app but, on the other hand, he was getting pally with me for free on social media. I was definitely receiving mixed messages from him, and it was something I would potentially bring up on our date tomorrow evening – that and the ‘1996’ at the end of his username. I was more inclined to believe at this point that he was twenty-nine years old instead of thirty-four. I also couldn’t help thinking that him being younger than me was a slightturn-onfor me. From my brief experiences being around him, he presented himself as quite a dominant man, but maybe that could all change tomorrow – especially with what happened in the back of the Uber the other day.
I opened my inbox to see a new message from him:
Hello beautiful lady. I hope you’re having a wonderful day so far. :)
I was conflicted. On one hand, this was lovely, but on the other hand, I couldn’t help but wonder how many other women he’d sent texts like this to. Was he ‘dating’ other women this week as we spoke? As much as I wanted to lean in to the prospect of developing some kind of whirlwind love affair, I couldn’t allow myself to develop feelings for him, knowing that he was probably fucking other women at the same time. I’d decided that our relationship had to be purely transactional, for the sake of my mental health at this point.
I decided to play along and send a message back:
Hello to you too, somewhat-handsome gentleman. I’ve had better mornings, but I’m otherwise OK. Looking forward totomorrow. I hope you’re well too, and I hope you don’t charge these interactions to my card btw. ;)
The ‘read’ notification text appeared instantly. Almost as if Theo had been waiting on tenterhooks for me to respond. I could almost bet that he wouldn’t have been so forthcoming with his texts if he could see me now; shitting and puking up a storm. I decided to withhold my current health status in case he decided to postpone. I read his reply:
I’m sorry to hear you aren’t having the best morning and I hope this improves throughout the day. Hopefully we can have some good fun tomorrow that’ll counterbalance today. Haha, no, these messages are free of charge, just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing. :)
He was adorable. I closed the app, downed almost half a litre of water and tried to get in a bit of a nap to expedite the healing process. I’d never had food poisoning before, but from what I’d read online, it seemed to be one of those twenty-four bugs that could pass even sooner provided you got adequate rest and hydration.
Over the course of the next few hours, I slipped in and out of sleep, feeling slightly more energised every time I’d wake up, which was a great sign. I watched a bit more TV and after being able to muster a bit more strength, did a bit more work on my laptop, which mostly consisted of me forwarding any ‘big’ emails to Kofi and apologising profusely while he kept emailing me back, telling me to rest.
Around 2 p.m., I received an email from Jeff, who I hadn’t seen or spoken to in a little while. Thinking it was a meeting or appointment that needed rearranging, I opened the email, to be met with the following:
Subject:Wishing You a Speedy Recovery
Dear Cassandra,
