“Yeah. They do.”
“Great.” This is promising. Maybe he’ll be out of here without me having to do anything, and I’ll have my life back.
“I signed us up!”
“Wait—us? Why us?”
“You’ll go with me, right? I can’t go to a support group by myself. What if it’s full of losers?”
And just when I think he’s changed. I heave a sigh and push myself out of bed, immediately regretting it but not willing to let him see how much it costs me. I hurry to the bathroom and wash my face. “Fine. I’ll go with you. Just let me have a shower and we can talk about it.” I think I’m going to puke.
He’s still standing there looking at me, so I shove him in the chest. “Alone.”
He shuts the door behind him, and I start the water, frantically thinking of ideas I can use to make him want to leave. Why did I agree to go with him to this support group? Why do I find it so hard to say no to him?
Like when we were dating and I’d pretend to have my period so we didn’t have to fuck. Don’t judge me. There’s only so much boring sex one girl can take, OK? At the beginning it was so hot, but after a while it was like he stopped putting the effort in. He might have an amazing dick, but you also have to know how to use it.
Oh that’s it! I know exactly what will gross him out.
Switching the shower off, I hastily wrap a towel around me and call out to him. “Adam!”
There’s a pause. I shout again. “Adam!”
The door opens, and he peeks through. “Yeah?”
“I’m all out of tampons, and I have my period. Would you run down to the store and get some for me?”
I expect a groan. He just nods. “Sure. Uh, what type do you use again?”
I blink, he knows there are types? “Yeah, I’ve got really bad cramps. I think it’s going to be a bad one. Lots of blood. Better get the extra super ones.”
“Shit. Yeah. OK. I’m on it. Just um…” He looks around frantically. “Can I use your foundation? My skin is really gray.”
I stare at him. Who is this guy? I thought I knew him.
Silently I grab the foundation from the bathroom counter and shove it toward him. “Go nuts.”
He hurries into the bedroom. I can only assume he’s putting on makeup.
I shut the bathroom door behind him and stare at myself in the mirror. OK, so that didn’t work. I’m holding out hope that when he has to walk into the store and ask where the tampons are, it might be too much for his delicate manchild sensibilities.
But half an hour later he opens the door to the flat and calls out, “It’s me! I had to ask a lady whether to get the ones with the applicator or not, and she said it’s personal preference, so I got both types. Are you OK? I got some pads as well in case you didn’t want to wear tampons overnight.”
I poke my head around the bathroom door to stare at him. “You did?”
He pauses in the act of reaching into the shopping bag. “Was that wrong? She told me not everyone likes to.”
I hold out my hand. “No. That was…wow. You actually did great.”
He hands them to me, and I have to close the door again and pretend to unwrap one of the packs. Truth is, I’ve got an IUD and haven’t had a period in two months. So what now?
When I come out of the bathroom, the kettle snaps off and Adam begins pouring hot water into a hot water bottle he must have found at the bottom of my closet. “Oh hey, I got you ice cream. It’s in the freezer. I couldn’t decide if you’d prefer choc mint or rocky road so I got both.”
I narrow my eyes. This is not the Adam I know. Time to double down. Clutching my belly, I let out a groan. “You know what? The cramps are really bad this month. Ice cream might not cut it.”
“It won’t?” He looks genuinely concerned.
“I might need a big juicy steak.”
