There was no other place Safiya wanted to be than right where she was, swaying in the rocking chair cocked in the corner of her room. After her friends left for the Fall festival that morning, she brewed herself a cup of black tea, toasted a bagel and spread some cream cheese on it before grabbing one of the pregnancy books Harmony brought her. She flipped right to the eighth-month chapter since she'd be there in a couple of weeks. She didn't have to lift up her shirt to check, she already saw the stretch marks after her morning shower months ago. Her back was killing her, that's why one of her goose-down pillows was crammed behind her back.

At lunchtime, she shuffled her swollen feet to the kitchen to rewarmed last night's Stouffer's lasagna and paired it was a stale piece of garlic bread. She rested her plate on her belly and read ahead to the ninth month. As she cut forkfuls of pasta to shove in her mouth she realized month nine was almost the same as month eight. Almost halfway through the chapter his text derailed her plan for an afternoon nap before starting dinner and studying.

She took measured steps down the stairs stopping to take her breath once she reached the bottom step. She dropped her plate in the sink, ran some water over it, and waddled to the front door. She swung the door open to see him standing on the porch cradling the paper bag at his side.

"You got it, anyways!" She smiled and he smiled back. "Nick! You didn't have too!" She pulled him in stretching out his orange sweater. Nick was a bad writer but a great friend.  He was the friend she texted before falling asleep at night and as soon as she woke up in the morning.

"This is nasty." He walked to the kitchen like it was his house. She locked the door behind him. "Strawberry shortcake ice cream and pickles." She heard the pop of the pickle jar as she round the corner.

Safiya wanted to pull herself up on a stool at the bar but her belly stopped that action months ago. "It's good! The creamy sweetness of the ice cream with the tanginess of the pickle." She fawned like a child making him laugh. "What?" 

"Nothing." Nick slapped a pickle on a bowl next to two scoops of ice cream. "Here, you weirdo." He sat the bowl in front of her. "Where is it?"

Safiya bit into the pickle letting the vinegary juice roll down her tongue before she remembered. He offered to put together the crib yesterday. "Upstairs." He reached the top of the stairs before she even got out of the kitchen.

Safiya offered to help him make sense of the bolts, screws, an assortment of wood pieces but he shooed her away claiming she was messing up his process. She settled back into her rocking chair, the pillows behind her back and feet propped on the little ottoman. She watched him splayed out all the contents from the box into piles on her bedroom floor like a surgeon preparing for an operation. She read Nick the instructions until they got into a tiff over the difference between a washer and a hinge. He swiped the booklet from her hands and she was too tired to get up. She watched him fumble with pieces until her eyes glazed over.

Her bedroom light was on when she opened her eyes. Safiya's loud yawn caused Nick to look up, "Thanks for the help." He chuckled then went back to tightening the bolt to the railing.

"You're welcome." Safiya dropped her feet from the ottoman. She pushed herself up from the rocking chair. "It looks like a crib." She whispered to herself. She rubbed her hand over the curved edges of the railing, across the smooth surface of the changing table. She didn't want to love it because Carter bought it but she did. The cherry stain matched well with her linen bedframe and white dresser. He'd only been in her room a handful of times and he'd remembered it.

"Thanks for the confidence." Nick huffed out as he picked up the plastic bags and bubble wrap. "All you need now is a mattress."

"It should be here next week." She rubbed her back trying to soothe the ache. "Nick," She called before he dragged the box out her room. She liked the way his eyes looked like unblemished gold and his hair rivaled the blackness of coal but most of all she liked that he was there. He didn't ask her questions about whose baby she was having.  He didn't know she was in love with a married man. She liked it that he just knew her, as Safiya, the girl that helped him pull his English grade to a 'C', liked Shirley Temple movies, and happened to be pregnant. "Thanks."

Nick stopped drumming his spindly fingers on the box, "Anytime, weirdo." He winked before he hoisted the box up and disappeared down the hall.