Page 18 of No Greater Love
"Okay," I said, gesturing to the wall of products. "Welcome to Puberty Paradise. Let's talk options."
Paige stared wide-eyed at the overwhelming selection. "There are so many."
"Intimidating, right? Let's break it down." I picked up different packages. "These are for lighter days, these for heavier. These have wings—little sticky tabs that fold under your underwear to keep everything in place. Personally, I'm Team Wings, but it's dealer's choice."
She studied the packages seriously. "Which ones are easier?"
"For beginners? Definitely pads. We'll save the tampon talk for another day."
She selected a package of junior-sized pads with wings. "These?"
"Perfect choice. Now, let's get you some backup underwear too, because accidents happen to the best of us."
We added a pack of plain cotton underwear to our basket, then wandered down another aisle where I tossed in some gentle wipes.
"Last but not least," I said, steering us toward the candy aisle, "medicinal chocolate. Doctor's orders."
Paige hesitated. "Dad says chocolate is an occasional treat."
"Today is 100% an occasion." I gestured grandly at the selection. "Choose your weapon."
She selected a large Hershey's bar with almonds, her smile growing a little more genuine.
At the checkout, I noticed her eyeing the items with apprehension as the cashier scanned them.
"Don't worry," I said quietly. "No one cares what we're buying, promise. To her, we're just another transaction."
As if to prove my point, the cashier barely glanced up as she bagged our items. "That'll be $33.47."
Back in the car, Paige clutched the bag to her chest. "Thank you."
"No biggie. Consider it your welcome package to the Secret Society of Menstruating People. It's an exclusive club."
She giggled, a small, brief sound—but music to my ears after her tears earlier. "Does it get easier?"
I started the car, considering how honest I wanted to be. "Yes and no. The logistics get easier. You figure out your rhythm, what products work for you. The cramping... well, ibuprofen helps. But the overall experience? It becomes normal. Just another part of life."
She nodded, digesting this. "Dad explained all the biology. The uterine lining and hormones and stuff."
"I bet he did," I said, unable to keep the amusement from my voice.
Twenty minutes later, we were pulling into the Crawford driveway. Paige had been quiet during the drive, occasionally shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
"Cramps?" I asked.
She nodded. "A little."
"We'll get you set up with a heating pad. Your dad probably has ibuprofen somewhere too."
The house was exactly what I'd expected: modest, meticulously maintained, with a small front yard so perfectly mowed it looked like it had been trimmed with scissors. Inside was just as tidy—everything in its place, nothing unnecessary or frivolous. It reminded me of military housing, which I supposed made sense.
"I'll text your dad that we're home," I said, pulling out my phone.
Got her. We're at your place. She's fine. No need to rush home.
Crawford
What happened? Is she hurt?
