Page 64 of Give Me a Chance
I breathe out the crazy thought in my warrior pose, and after a forty-five minute session, my body’s feeling better.
By Sunday,I’m a mess of hormones and period cramps. With chocolate and ibuprofen as my best friends, I raid Hulu’s romance section. Even my cold, dead heart grows a romantic side a few days a month. Settling on a third rewatch of Normal people, I prepare my favorite blanket and a box of tissues.
Three episodes in, my phone pings with a text.
Matt:
Are you feeling OK?
Is he watching me somehow?
Oh, he’s probably asking because of Friday.
Me:
Not at all
But it’s not because of you :P
Matt:
What’s wrong?
Pfft, nice guys. I’m used to men caring only if it pertains to them.
Me:
Nothing much. Just my womb trying to kill me for daring to not get pregnant again.
Matt:
Say no more.
I guess he is just a man, after all. One mention of periods and he’s out of the conversation.
Fifteen minutes later, my phone vibrates with a call.
“Can you let me in?” his deep voice says.
“What?”
“I’m in front of your building, can you let me in?”
“Why would you come in?”
“I’m bringing presents.” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I’m in too much pain to argue.
“Fine,” I say and get off the call.
I’m barely able to get up and open the door, let alone care my shirt has a hole in it and my hair could become a bird’s nesting point if I were to exit the building.
“Hi,” I mutter, mostly to myself, before making my way back to the sectional.
His brows pull together as he gets closer.
“I brought some things to make you feel better.” He lifts a cloth bag he’s holding.
“Thanks, but the only help is to survive until tomorrow when the pain will get better.” It’s what I’ve learned in the fourteen years of having periods.
