Clearing my throat, I place an arm over the couch behind my wife’s head, tugging her closer. “Things went exceptionally well,” I answer for my wife who I’m telling myself must be too overwhelmed with sentiment to form a response.
“I see…” The doctor grins as she writes. “So, you’ve consummated the marriage?”
“Did we ever! Damn near knocked the walls down in that horse stable.”
“Liam!” Her hand comes down hard on my thigh, and she pinches her fingers together, making me flinch.
“She’s our therapist,” I say, shushing my incensed wife. “There’s no place for secrets in this room.”
It’s the doctor’s turn to blush. “There is such a thing as oversharing. I don’t need all the details, especially when it’s making your wife so uncomfortable.”
“Oh, she’s just afraid I’m gonna show you our little memento.” I pat the outside of my jean pocket for effect. I don’t actually have it with me; I just really like getting Nya all riled up. It’s always been one of my greatest joys in life.
“Liam, I swear to God, if you brought that damn splinter—”
“Splinter,” I scoff, patting the top of her knee. “It’s practically a two by four.”
The doctor has no idea what the hell the two of us are going on about, but I catch a glimpse of her trying not to smile in my peripheral. She knows love when she sees it.
My wife’s huffing and puffing on the side of me lets me know I’ve pushed her enough for today. The remainder of our session is bland and boring and all about feelings and respect. We take turns filling her in on the visit with my parents, minus the juicy bits.
This week for homework we’re challenged not to ever go to bed angry with one another, to kiss each night before going to sleep, and to do at least one act of service every day for the other. That’s easy enough. I give great oral. Piece of cake.
Before we get up to leave, I’m given a bonus assignment…to work on not badgering my wife.
That I’m being given additional homework—again—tells me she’s still on Team Nya. Damn women.
“No offense doc…try as you might, you can’t remove a tiger’s stripes.”
Nya
Period party
I’m at the Houseman’s place putting the final touches on the castle loft when my phone starts ringing on the table across the room.
I’ll get to it when I’m finished. I’m so close.
A text comes in not long after the ringing stops. It’s followed by another about ten minutes later. And another not long after that.
Begrudgingly, I set the paint brush down and take a break to check my phone just to make sure nothing serious has occurred.
One missed call from Liam.
Three new text messages.
I click on the notification to find they, too, are all from my husband. My stomach drops.
Liam: The school just called. Ellie got her first period. I was only calling because I thought you might have wanted to be the one to go get her, but I’m on my way. Don’t want to keep her waiting.
Liam: Just got her. She was pretty upset to have started in class. On our way home now.
Liam: We’re here. She’s calm. There’s no need to panic. I have got this under control. Love you.
A barrage of mom guilt rains down around me as I rush through clean-up and let the construction crew know that my daughter is not feeling well, and I’ve got to go.
She’s barely eleven. I thought we had time. I mean…I was fourteen before mine came.
Oh my God, I never even had the puberty talk with my child. What kind of mother am I?
She must’ve been so afraid and then to be forced into having to this discussion with her father instead of me? She must be mortified.
These are the thoughts running on loop in my mind when I stop off at the drugstore around the corner from the house for pads and tampons, since I’ve recently switched to a menstrual cup, and she’s nowhere near old enough for that.
By the time I reach the house, I have this horrifying vision of my child locked in the bathroom, soaked in her own blood, convinced she’s hemorrhaging to death.
“Where is sh—” What greets me when I enter the house is anything but the nightmarish thoughts that have been racing through my head. You’d think I’d have learned by now not to underestimate my husband, but you know what they say about old habits. “What is all of this?”
The coffee table is loaded with bags of all of Ellie’s favorite junk foods. Twix. Skittles. Sour Patch Kids. Hot Tamales. Every flavor of Pringles imaginable. There are balloons and red roses and a handmade card that says “Congratulations” on the front. I pick it off the table and read the note inside, written in her father’s handwriting. “Welcome to womanhood, Squirt. You’re gonna rock it.”
My eyes well. “Ellie, honey. Are you okay?”
My child looks at me from her position on the couch, a jumbo bag of peanut M&Ms in hand and a heating pad situated on her abdomen, and smiles. “I’m great.”
“But weren’t you scared? I should have had this talk with you by now. I totally dropped the ball, mija. I feel awful.”
She waves off my concern. “I already knew what was happening, Mom. I’m not a baby. Dad got me books about it when I was like eight.”
That’s it. It’s official. He is the better parent.
I swallow my tears, choking on my own guilt. “He did?”
“Oh, you’re back.” Father of the Year interrupts our conversation when he strolls out of the kitchen with a steaming cup of hot cocoa for his princess, topped with a heaping blob of marshmallows, just the way she likes it. He sets it on a coaster then grabs me by the arm, pulling me into his chest. With a satisfied groan he presses a kiss to my lips. “Decided to come home early and join the party?”
My eyes shut on their own accord as I bury my face in his neck and inhale a deep breath. He smells delicious. “Is that what this is?” Swear to God, this man never ceases to amaze me. “A party?”
“Duh! We’re celebrating my foray into womanhood, Mom.”
“Here.” I feel a little ridiculous as I hand her the drug store bag filled with a variety of pads and tampons. “There’s a Hershey bar in there too.” I shrug. “I stopped for supplies on my way.”
She peers into the grocery bag, looking less than impressed. I guess I would be too after the production her father put on. He sure knows how to make a girl feel special. My kid is the luckiest daughter in the whole world. “Daddy, wanna go add these to the stash in the bathroom cabinet for me? I’d go, but…” She trails off, motioning with a hand to her current state. “You know… cramps.”
Ay. This girl is going to milk every second of this new monthly ailment.
I trail him to the bathroom, where I find a well-stocked cabinet. Between what the two of us have purchased, she should be set until well into her college years. “I can’t believe you did all of this.”
His forehead creases. “You can’t? Why not?”
“Well, because she’s a girl, and I’m a woman, and isn’t this supposed to be, like, my area of expertise?”