Page 88 of Recklessly, Wildly Yours

Me: Wow. Will all that even fit in your suitcase?

Leigh: Yes. Do you have anything not on my list? I feel like I don’t have everything I could.

I actually laugh out loud while reading her last text. Leigh is always the take-charge one of us. The one who is scared by nothing. Except periods, it seems.

Me: I think you’re covered, babe.

Leigh: WHY MUST WOMEN HAVE TO TAKE PERIODS FOR THE TEAM?

Leigh: I hate my period app for letting me down this month. I wasn’t supposed to start bleeding my lifeblood away today.

At her mention of the period app, a thought teases my mind. I can’t quite catch it, but there’s something there.

Me: Is your period clockwork?

Leigh: No. Maybe I need a better period app. Is yours clockwork? I’m always jealous of women who have regular periods.

Yes, my period is regular as heck.

Always.

Holy. Fuck.

I catch that thread of a thought floating around in my mind and quickly find my period app on my phone. I’m not sure I’ve ever tapped my phone faster for anything.

My heart starts beating so fast and hard I swear I can hear it in my ears.

Fuck.

I’m late.

Two weeks if the app is to believed.

I collapse onto the toilet seat lid.

This can’t be happening.

No, no, no.

I tap out a fast text to Leigh.

Me: Do you know the reliability rates of these period apps?

My brain races, trying to figure out when exactly I had my last period. The problem is that the past nine weeks have been a whirlwind and my memory is hazy.

Me: Like, your app fucked up, right? Mine could have too.

Leigh: OMG

Leigh: You’re late, aren’t you?

Leigh: I knew I should never have left you alone with Hottie McHottie. I bet that man has super sperm.

Me: I swear I never missed a pill.

Leigh: How late?

Me: 2 weeks.

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