Page 17 of No Greater Love
"I thought it would taste like a warm brownie. It doesnot. It becomes lava." I smiled. "So, what's up? Stomach bug? Threw up in class? Wardrobe malfunction? I've seen it all, kiddo."
Paige hesitated, then stage whispered, "I'm bleeding."
Ahhhhhh. Everything clicked into place. "First time?"
She nodded miserably. "And I don't have any... stuff. Dad made me this emergency kit thing, but I took it out of my backpack because I needed room for my science project materials."
"That tracks," I said, nodding sagely. "Science has a way of being inconsiderate to female biology. You've got blood on your pants?"
Another nod, more tears welling up. "Everyone's going to know. Amber Miller already asked if I was okay because I looked weird during math."
"Amber Miller sounds kinda nosy," I said. "But I get it. It's scary the first time, even when you're prepared. And at school?Ugh, the worst."
"Dad told me it would happen eventually." Paige sniffled. "He bought all these different kinds of pads and we sat at the kitchen table while he opened the packages and tried to figure out how they worked. He kept reading the instructions and saying 'Wait, that can't be right' and then trying again."
"What happened?" I asked, fascinated by this mental image.
"He stuck one upside down at first," Paige said, a small smile breaking through her tears.
That startled a genuine laugh out of me. "I can just picture it. Your dad with his serious face, battling adhesive strips."
"He finally called one of the ladies he works with—Maria, I think—and put her on speakerphone. She was laughing so hard. But then she helped us figure it out."
"Your dad is something else."
"He does his best," Paige said with a fiercely defensive note that made me like her even more.
"He absolutely does," I agreed. "And now, so will we. Here's the plan: I've got a pad in my purse. You're going to use it, then take off your jacket and tie it around your waist. We're going to walk out of here with our heads high, and I'm taking you home. Sound good?"
Relief washed over her face. "You have one? Right now?"
"Never leave home without it." I pulled the wrapped pad from my purse. "Want me to step out?"
She shook her head. "Can you... explain again how to use it? It's been a while since..."
For the next few minutes, I walked her through the basics, answering her questions with the same straightforward tone I'd use for any medical procedure. By the time we finished, her tears had dried, and she'd tied her purple jacket around her waist.
"Perfect," I said. "Can't see a thing. Ready to make our escape?"
She took a deep breath and nodded. "Thank you for coming."
"No problem, kiddo. That's what... friends are for."
We emerged from the bathroom with dignity intact. Ms. Wilson tried to ask questions, but I smoothly intercepted.
"Paige isn't feeling well. Her dad asked me to take her home. I'm an emergency department nurse, and I've got it from here."
As we walked to my car, I glanced at Paige. "We're making a pit stop before home."
"Where?" she asked, sliding into the passenger seat.
"Walgreens. Mission critical: supply run. One pad isn't going to cut it, and we need to properly equip you for the battle ahead."
A ghost of a smile appeared on her face. "Dad calls emergencies 'missions' too."
"Your dad's a pretty smart guy."
The local Walgreens was mercifully quiet. I guided Paige to the feminine hygiene aisle, which she approached with the caution of someone walking into a minefield.
