Page 81 of DadBod
“I know the gist of it. I didn’t know it would hurt this much.”
“Cramps are a bitch.”
I see a little nod. “What are cramps?”
I explain, in general terms, what causes them. “There are pain relievers specifically for cramps out there that work. Do you have pads? Tampons?”
Ryann shakes her head. “I don’t want to use tampons.”
“I don’t care for those either. I use them when I swim.”
Ryann rolls back over and mutters, “Great.”
“What?”
“I was invited to a pool party this Sunday. Now I can’t go.”
“Why not?” Maybe she’ll be done with her period before the party. Hopefully.
Glaring, she spits, “Because…” She rolls her eyes like I’m an idiot. “I’ll be on my period.”
There’s no point arguing with her right now. “I’ve got a pad in my purse. I’ll grab that for you to use until I can get to the store. Do you want a pain reliever?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll get dressed and run to the pharmacy.”
“Okay.” She rolls back to her side and wraps her arms around the pink fluffy thing and hugs it tight.
“Be right back.”
Quickly dressing, I race down the steps to grab my purse. Rome’s in the kitchen cooking up something that smells delicious, as Calvin sits on his stool and watches. Locating my purse, I grab it and turn toward the door.
“Babe.”
At the mention of that word, my head jerks back to look at Rome. He must realize what he said, because his eyes are huge. “Um, where are you going?”
“Uh, I need to run to the pharmacy. Back in a second.” But I run up the steps, back to Ryann’s room, to give her my lone pad first. I quickly explain what to do with that, and I’m down the steps and out the door before the boys can ask any more questions. I have a feeling Ryann wouldn’t appreciate me telling them about this. I would’ve been horrified if my dad and brothers knew about mine. Although, after a while, they would often guess when it was my time of the month.
I’m back in no time with tampons and Midol in tow. The store on the corner was out of pads. Who runs out of pads? When I step into the house, all three of them are sitting at the counter. Calvin’s stuffing his face with whatever Rome made, and Ryann’s just looking down at her plate. When I get closer, she looks pale. Setting the bag down on the floor near her stool, I pretend to be interested in breakfast.
Okay, I am interested in breakfast because it appears as though Rome made regular ole pancakes. “That looks good.”
“Blueberry pancakes,” Calvin tells me between bites.
“You want some?” Rome asks, looking expectant.
“Sure. Thank you.”
Rome cooks, trading glances with me but also looking over at his eldest. I wonder if she told him what was going on?
“What the hell’s your problem this morning, Ryann?”
That answers that question.
“Nothing.” She won’t look up.
“I’m sick and tired of this moody bullshit.” Rome’s getting angry.