Chapter 17

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When Beyoncé was released from the hospital the next morning, Tina nearly had a fit that her daughter was going to Onika's and not home.

Beyoncé insisted that Onika was better suited to take care of her, considering she was a doctor and all. While technically true, Beyoncé also preferred Onika's company over her nagging, helicopter mother, but she certainly didn't voice that particular thought to her mother.

Tina scoffed at first, but reluctantly agreed in the end. She had become wary of Onika since her conversation with Beyoncé at dinner, but she also knew that Beyoncé was, much to her dismay, now an adult and could legally make her own decisions. It all came down to the fact that Tina simply didn't agree with some of them, especially lately, but she knew there was nothing she could realistically do at the moment.

Onika knocked softly on Beyoncé's bedroom door, just in case Beyoncé had fallen asleep in the little bit of time it had taken for her to put Anyla and Michael down for their afternoon naps. She opened it quickly, peeking her head through when she heard Beyoncé cry out softly from the other side.

"Onika, help!"

The young brunette was standing in the middle of her bedroom, a t-shirt around her neck, struggling to get her arms through without causing too much pain from the stretching movements.

"Beyoncé, what are you doing?" Onika hissed, stepping immediately inside the bedroom and shutting the door behind her. "For the next couple of days especially you need to wear shirts that you can easily put on yourself, like something with buttons down the front. Were you not listening to your discharge instructions?"

"I don't have any shirts with buttons, genius," Beyoncé replied snarkily. "And no, why would I listen when I was going home with a doctor?"

"Well you should have listened. I only have the next week off work, you know," Onika replied, stepping close to the brunette. "I'm lucky the hospital has even given me that, considering the circumstances." Quickly Onika pulled Beyoncé's t-shirt back over her head, folded it, and tossed it onto the bed.

An awkward-feeling Beyoncé crossed her arms over her chest, trying to cover herself. She looked down at her feet.

Onika looked at her curiously, her brow furrowed. "Why are you covering yourself? I've seen you naked before, Beyoncé."

"Yeah, well, that was before," Beyoncé replied, shrugging slightly. After a few seconds, she looked up at Onika, whose expression had changed dramatically. The older woman now looked vulnerable, remorseful.

"I-I'm," Onika began to say, turning toward Beyoncé's bedroom door. "I'll go get you a couple of shirts you can wear."

"No," Beyoncé said quickly, reaching for Onika's hand to stop her. "I'll come with you. For all I know you'll bring me purple or something equally as ugly."

A small smile formed on the older woman's dark pink lips

*****

"Geez, Onika, these are all silk and stuff," Beyoncé complained. "Don't you have any normal button up shirts? Ones that don't cost hundreds of dollars? Each?"

"What constitutes a 'normal' button up shirt for you, Beyoncé?"

Onika stood in the middle of her walk-in closet, one hand on her hip with a blue blouse on a hanger in the other.

Beyoncé scrunched her nose quickly. "Um? Costs 20 dollars, made of cotton, and you got it at Target?"

"That's terrible," Onika replied, horror displayed across her features.

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