Page 48 of Run, Run, Roommates
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and quickly check the fitted sheet behind me. Oh good, there’s no stain. “I started my period.”
“Oh.” He relaxes in the doorway. “Merry Christmas?”
I snort. “The best part is that Bea took the rest of the tampons. In her defense, she texted me a reminder to pick some more up and I forgot.” Of course Bea remembered to pack tampons for her trip. She probably uses one of those apps that tracks her cycle so she’s always prepared.
As for me, I have attempted a few times to make notes in my phone’s calendar about when my period starts, but whenever it hits I always think I’ll make a note later, until I realize my period’s over and I can’t remember which day it started and I never made a note.
So yeah. Not very effective.
“Do you need me to run to the store?” Marco doesn’t wait for an answer, but grabs his wallet from his nightstand.
“You don’t mind?”
He shakes his head. “What else might you need?”
I tick off the other period supplies: Midol, panty liners, and a heating pad if it gets really bad. All present and accounted for, so I tell Marco what tampons to get and he heads out.
I shower and put in a liner when I get dressed, hoping it’ll last till he gets back. I go to light my Christmas candle—it made it all the way to the day of Christmas!—but the lighter goes click-click-click and produces no flame.
Hmm.
I think I have another lighter in the closet, so I root around in there looking for it.
We’ve got one of these fabric shelf organizers hanging from the middle of the rod, designating a his side/her side approach to things. But as I’m digging through the stuff on my side, some of Marco’s things fall out of the closet.
Two things, actually. Cranberry-red pillars that smell like Holiday Sparkle.
I hold them both up. They’re about as equally burned down as the one on my nightstand.
Why does Marco have two more of my candles?
The front door opens and I push the candles back to roughly where they came from. I meet Marco at the door to our bedroom.
“Tampon delivery.” He holds up the box.
“Thanks.” I grab the box and retreat to the bathroom. When I come out, Marco’s lounging on the couch.
“What do you normally do on period days?” he asks me.
I snort. “Pop some Midol and go to work.”
“Okay, let me rephrase the question. What would you like to do on a period day when you don’t have to go to work?”
I purse my lips, thinking. “Build a pillow fort, lie in it with a heating pad while eating ice cream and watching movies.”
He rolls off the couch. “Let’s do it.”
Fifteen minutes later I’m relaxing in the pillow fort. The heating pad is plugged in behind me, and even though the cramps haven’t been too bad yet, it feels good.
Marco had told me he was going to make me a proper Christmas morning breakfast instead of ice cream. I’m not entirely sure what he considers a “proper Christmas morning breakfast.” His usual breakfast is overnight oats, so I’m hesitant.
Also, based on our cookie baking adventure, I’m concerned about leaving Marco alone in the kitchen. The living room still smells like raw dough.
But it is being overpowered by the delicious aromas coming from the kitchen. Cinnamon and browning butter and sugar.
“What do you want on your French toast?” Marco yells.
This I have to see. I leave my warm cocoon and walk into the kitchen just in time to witness Marco flip the last slice of bread in a pan. All four pieces are now brown side up, which explains the smells.
