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“Sorry, Mom.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, son. We’ll watch the game tape tomorrow; enjoy your Saturday off,” I hear Beau say. “Is she alright?”
I open one eye and see Beau peeking his head in the door.
“She’s fine. She’s having period cramps,” Micah tells him. “So now’s probably not the best time if you still want to try to talk to her.”
One thing I love about Gen Z, they cut straight to the issue, no mincing or prancing.
“You can come in,” I shout to whoever is listening.
Beau mumbles something, and then Micah closes the door.
“I thought he wanted to come in,” I say, half sitting up.
Micah shrugs. “I told him you were on your period, and he freaked out and left.”
Huh. Well, if the man can’t handle period talk, all the more reason not to get back together.
ChapterFifteen
Beau
I’m wandering aimlessly through the drugstore with my mom on the phone.
“Mom, what do you get for a girlfriend when she’s on her period?”
When Granddad was alive, periods were never discussed. Ashlyn and a short list of college girlfriends taught me most of what I know about women and their periods, but I’m pretty damn rusty on the topic.
“Well, you leave her alone is what you do, honey,” Mom says.
I pick up a package of extra slim pads with wings in a pink and purple box. These are the most expensive, so they must be good. I throw those into the basket and push on.
“No, see, I need to talk to her because I fucked up. I’m trying to fix it.”
“Those Cowboys taught you such rough language. Trust me, you don’t want to fix your relationship while Aunt Flo is visiting.”
Maybe I should take another stab at it from a different perspective. I head down the candy aisle. “What would you want your best friend to do for you when you were on your period?”
Mom suddenly changes her tone and rattles off an exhaustive list of ideas.
Before I hang up, she has something more to say. “Beau, you’re a good boy. I’ve always said, since your first heartbreak, that you shouldn’t chase after anyone who doesn’t appreciate you. You did the right thing by not chasing after that Ashlyn and following her to school. It’s about what is worth making time for. If you want to make time for this woman, I say do it. If she comes around, great. But sometimes, something has to give. Decide what that is. And if you messed up as bad as you say you did, then make it right. Otherwise, there aren’t enough gallons of Blue Bell ice cream to persuade her to take you back.”
Minutes later, I’m at the checkout with pain relievers, hot water bottles, ice packs, some hippie-dippy herbal tea that advertises menstrual relief, essential oils, and one of every kind of pad, tampon, and cup available in the hygiene aisle.
My next stop was going to be the supermarket for ice cream because I already know that Mary likes that when she’s on her period—or anytime.
But first, I have to call Principal Patty. Like my mom said, something’s gotta give.
ChapterSixteen
Mary
I’ve migrated to my bedroom, even though it’s the warmest spot in the house.
My period headaches can get so bad that I only want my dim room, my comfy bed, and aBling Empiremarathon on my laptop. A girl can’t read classical literature every damn day.
At some point, I sense a presence in the room. I don’t even have to look; I can see in my peripheral vision that a hulking frame is lurking, and I know who it is.
