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15
Tatum
I feellike complete and utter crap.
This week has been torture. I’ve wanted to call in sick, but I can’t afford to do so.
To add onto feeling like shit, I am feeling guilty for putting Davis and his extremely hot brother in an awkward position. I know it’s not actually my fault, but I’m the common factor in this.
It’s Friday night and I’m standing in my kitchen picking at the upside down pineapple cake I made. I’ve been craving pineapples lately. I’ve order pizza and made sure my 2nd topping was pineapple, I went to the grocery store and bought at least 10 cans of pineapple. I’m living off the juice. It tastes so delicious, and it immediately makes me feel warm inside.
My dinky apartment is just that, dinky. I live in a 700 Square foot, 1 bedroom palace of the college area. Sometimes my neighbors throw crazy parties that keep me up all night, sometimes I hear the ghetto birds flying overhead with their loudspeaker on providing descriptions of someone to be cautious of, but you can’t understand what they are saying. My apartment complex is gated and it’s off of one of the main streets. It’s not entirely in the worst part of town, but it’s not in the best part of town. This is my apartment, and it’s my home. For 1 person, it’s got enough space and I like it.
The buzzer from outside the gate buzzes into my space. Sammie must be here. I buzz her through and moments later she’s walking in through my door.
“Hooker. What on earth are you doing?” She asks placing her reusable bag on the counter in front of me.
“Having my cake.” I smile with a mouthful.
“Did you eat all of that by yourself?” she asks pointing.
I look down and over 75% of the cake is gone. Holy crap.
“Um. I might have. It is just too good to put down. I’ve been all about pineapples lately,” I practically moan.
She fingers a piece and mimics me in my moan.
“That is good. But probably not something that will help you feel better if you’re sick. You should be eating soup and stuff like that.” She smiles as she removes a can of chunky chicken noodle soup from her bag.
I have a can of chopped pineapples sitting next to me on the counter, and I spoon a few over the piece of cake that I’m about to fork. Sammie is staring at me like I sprouted a third eye.
“Are you for real?” She asks staring at me as I put the piece in my mouth and nod with each chew.
“Are you pregnant?” She asks.
I stop nodding.
“Of course not, to be pregnant would imply that I’ve had sex. I haven’t had sex in a month and a half.” I say.
“When was your last period?” She asks getting motherly.
“What are you my doctor? I don’t remember, I’m not pregnant Sam, I’m fine. I just really like pineapples right now. Don’t you get random cravings from time to time?”
“No. But pregnant ladies do.” She smirks.
“Shut up you hag. I’m fine.” I smile and pull out a pot for my soup and open the can with my can opener. I put the pot on the stovetop and wait patiently with Sammie watching my every move.
“Okay, fine. What’s on the DVR?” She asks changing the subject quickly as if it never occurred.
“You choose, I’m cooking a master piece over here.” I smile.
I finished warming up the soup and as I’m walking over to the couch, Sammie is going through the DVR for something to watch.
“You have nothing but crap on here, can we order on demand?” She asks.
“Sure.” We settle on a comedy and we laugh our asses off. Sammie falls asleep towards the end of the movie and I’m back to wanting some pineapples.
I’m in the kitchen eating out of the can. I can’t be pregnant, can I? I shake my head, that’s absurd. I look at the clock on my stove. It’s only 9pm, its early still. I put my pineapple down on the counter, grab my purse and keys and slowly and quietly leave my apartment with Sammie sleeping peacefully on the couch.
I’m in and out of the drug store as quickly as possible. I won’t know anyone in this neighborhood, but I still don’t want to run into anyone. I’m back home, just as quick. Sammie hasn’t moved, and so on my way to the bathroom, I fork a chunk of pineapple in my mouth.
What do I have to lose? I’m not pregnant, I can’t be.
