“You should just go home,” I sob.
“I’m not going anywhere, Iris. Now take your time.”
I hear his footsteps retreating and hang my head.
I want to yell at him to leave, to tell him that I don’t need him, but that’s not true. I’ll always need Max. He’s not the type to walk away when he sees someone he loves hurting. He’s not going to walk away because my period got the best of me.
Even if my mortification wishes he would.
It’s no wonder I fell in love with him.
Goddamn him for being such a good guy.
After finishing my business, I turn on the shower. While I wait for it to heat up, I put my hair up into a messy bun on the top of my head and then get into the shower. As I step inside, I can’t help but groan. The water feels good on my aching and stiff muscles. For a while, I cry as the water beats down on me. After a while my tears dry up.
Everything is going to be fine.
I’m going to get dressed, then head to the living room. I’ll clean my couch if it wasn’t spared, and everything will be fine. It will be like every time we’ve shared a room before.
It’s Max, he’s not going to make a big deal out of this. In fact, I can almost guarantee he’s not going to say anything at all.
We will both pretend nothing happened at all.
It’s fine. It’s all going to be fine.
Riding high on my pep talk, I get out of the shower and quickly dress. After taking some over-the-counter pain reliever, I look at myself in the mirror.
Well, we might as well get this over with.
It’s going to be fine. Right?
MAX
My feet are heavy as I walk away from the bathroom. I hate hearing her cry. All I want to do is barge in there, wrap my arms around her, and tell her that everything is okay. She doesn’t need that though. Not now, at least.
Leaving her room, I head back to the living room and move right to the couch. As soon as she jumped up like her ass was on fire and scurried out of the room, I knew what happened. The bloodstain on the cushion says as much.
Grabbing it, I strip the cover off. Miraculously, there’s nothing on the cushion itself. I head into the kitchen and to the sink. I saturate the spot with water before adding a little bit of Dawn to it. Rubbing the fabric together, I try to work the stain out. After rinsing it, I see that it’s still there. Lighter, but still noticeable.
How the hell do you get blood stains out of fabric?
Without thinking about it, I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial the number of the one person I know who won’t judge me for asking.
“Max, is everything okay?” Glenda asks when she answers.
“Yeah, sorry for bothering you. I need your help with something.”
“What’s up?”
“How do you get a bloodstain out of fabric?”
Glenda’s quiet for so long I would think the call dropped if it wasn’t for the sound of dryers in the background.
“Max, did you really call me to ask a housekeeping question when you could have Googled it?” she asks with humor in her voice.
Shit, I didn’t even think of that. Why didn’t that thought even cross my mind?
“Why use Google when I could go straight to the best person I know?” I try to flatter her, ignoring how dumb I can be sometimes.
