visit to the bathroom to change, I’m now at the hotel room door in a super-faded Winnie-the-Pooh pajama shirt atop a pair of black silk pants with pink grinning skulls all over them, my worst set of pajamas (really thought I was going to be alone with Mom and Tats), with my fave black scarf thrown around my head, waving my wallet with a big smile. “Going to get American treats from the vending machine. Anyone want anything?”
Khadija rises slowly from the armchair Tats gave up for her, rubbing her stomach enclosed in a long white nightgown with a frilly neck. She adjusts her hijab so it sits more snugly. “I need a walk. I’ll come.”
I hope my falling face is not too visible.
Noooooo.
Chapter Twenty-Five
We walk down the carpeted hallway toward the elevators in silence.
“The vending machine is on the second floor,” I say preemptively, to ensure the conversation stays on the topics I want it to. “I couldn’t stand the smell of those ketchup chips. What’s that all about, anyway?”
“Did you try them?” Khadija asks.
“No. I don’t think I can get close enough to them to even try one chip.” I make a gagging motion.
“They’re good. And, really, nothing like ketchup. More of a sweet-and-salty thing. With crazy red coloring that comes off on your fingers.”
“No thanks.” I push the elevator button. “I’ll take my sour cream and onion chips any day.”
Silence.
“So what are you in the mood for? I’m thinking chips and maybe M&Ms.” I tilt my head, thinking carefully. “Maybe even peanut butter M&Ms if they have those.”
Khadija stops rubbing her stomach. “You know what, I’m not thinking that hard about it.”
I laugh. “Just snacks.”
“Just go with the flow.”
“Right. The vending machine flow.”
“Or, actually, let’s be adventurous,” she says with a slight increase in enthusiasm as the elevator doors open. “Let’s go to the store down in the lobby. Lots of choices there.”
“Is it open?” I like this idea. An entire store to roam—separate from each other.
“It said twenty-four hours.” She smiles big. “Now I might really go all out and get some MILK.”
“Nice.” I give her a thumbs-up and watch the floors light all the way down to L. Before silence makes itself known again, I say, “Your baby will like that. And maybe some chocolate chip cookies, too.” I add another laugh, but it comes out fake.
“No sugar for Maysarah. She had those gummy bears you gave Nuah. Well, I had the gummy bears you gave him, and I couldn’t sleep last night.” She shakes her head. “This girl can’t have any sugar.”
As soon as the doors open, I walk fast out of the elevator to leave the mention of Nuah far behind.
She catches up super quick for someone nine months pregnant. “You know that girl I told you about? That Nuah likes? She’s vegan AND sugar-free. When I first heard that, I was like, how can anyone live that deprived? But then I saw her. Sumayyah.”
My face is melting. I can feel it.
I try to walk faster. But now she puts a hand out to stop me. And holds a phone up with her other hand.
It’s a picture of a stunningly beautiful girl. Her dark brown skin is unmade up but glowing. She has a small but confident smile, as confident as the bright yellow head wrap atop her forehead. Her glasses match the wrap and her quiet but proud gaze, her I’m-here-don’t-look-away hijab—altogether, it’s unbelievably chic.
And she’s smart. She has to be, going to Caltech.
And into saving the earth, and vegan. And sugar-free.
Of course Nuah would choose her over me.
Of course she was the one that was hard to get—not me.
I tear up.
“When I saw her natural-glow skin, I told Nuah I’m signing up for sugar-free-vegan lessons too.” Khadija laughs and puts down her phone and then stops laughing when she sees my face. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” I look away and move toward the store.
“What did I say?” She follows me, and her voice sounds so shocked and sad. “Janna, stop. What happened?”
What if she gets so upset that I’m running away from her that she goes into labor? What if her water thing breaks right here on these lobby tiles that are some sort of weird mossy brown to mimic a forest floor? Then what if I have to be the one to deliver Maysarah? In this, the ugliest hotel in the world?
I stop. Right by the tree of fluffy red balls.
Scanning my brain for possible, plausible