Chapter 25 - I'll Be a Home for You

“dysmenorrhea” is the medical term for painful menstrual periods

(it’s one of the most common yet untreated conditions in the world)

JJ

When I open my eyes on Tuesday morning, there’s a dull ache in my stomach. I grab my phone. Kurwa mać.23 The period app proudly announces it’s day one.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

We’re adding new difficulty to the stunts today. I have to go to training. If I’m not there, Coach will have Addy step in.

It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got this.

I take the pink bike shorts out of my gym bag and throw in black double-layered running shorts. If it was going to be one of the really bad periods, I would have started getting cramps days before. And I was fine in Boston.

Just in case, I text Monique and ask if she can pick me up today so I don’t have to drive. But it’ll be fine. I had no cramps in Boston. It won’t be a bad one. I don’t have to stay home.

At my desk, I take off my silk bonnet. Black, with my grandma’s embroidery in the Łowicz style. A symmetrical pattern of tulips and peonies in reds, yellows, and blues, surrounded by green leaves.

When I was five, my dad dropped me off at my grandma’s with my hair not done. A massive mistake. My grandma didn’t realize she couldn’t let me go to sleep in my curls. In the morning, my hair was so tangled that the best choice was to shave it off. We cried while the curls were hitting the floor. She had a stack of hair products and the bonnet ready for the next visit.

Yesterday, she sent me another text with possible flights to Gdańsk. Mom bothers me about my June plans every day. Which is suspicious, because she wasn’t this insistent last summer. Dad doesn’t mention it. He can’t really tell me off, considering he hasn’t been to Nigeria in thirty years.

I hug the bonnet and let my tears fall. I want to see my grandma. But that will mean it’s back to the stares and the whispers. Why should I go somewhere where they don’t want me?

I sigh and put the bonnet down. As the tears dry, I spray my curls with the vanilla conditioner from Bryn’s salon. Monique texts back that she’ll be at my house in thirty minutes.

It won’t be one of the really bad ones.

Another cramp hits.

Gritting my teeth, I tighten my core. I kick my right foot up and stay in a heel stretch for two more counts. My stunt group dips on one, and I switch feet. I pull my leg up high and do a bow-and-arrow stretch. On one, they release, and I twist twice in the air before they catch me.

I’m doing great. Aside from the slowly increasing pain in my stomach. And if the definition of great has been modified to mean not falling. I should have taken a triple dose of the painkillers. Mom said the doctor prescribed stronger ones, but it seems my uterus was not notified of that fact.

“The stretches are looking strong!” Coach claps. “Flyers, you need to snap your feet together. Otherwise, it looks ugly, and I don’t want ugly!”

I don’t want ugly has been Coach’s mantra during this training. And everything I have done today has been ugly. My smile feels more like a grimace. My arm isn’t perfectly parallel to the floor on the bow and arrow. And I haven’t snapped my feet together.

“Water break!”

I slump onto the ground. Pearls of sweat go everywhere. Another cramp hits, and I dig my nails into my thigh. Twenty more minutes of training. I’ll survive, Monique will drive me home, and I’ll crawl into bed and pass out.

“You okay?” Aang is standing in front of me.

“Yeah … just not my day.”

He sits next to me, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and the back of his neck.

Another cramp. I hug my knees. “I’m sorry you have to work harder to pick up my slack today. I keep bending my legs.”

“No need to say sor—”

Another cramp. I squeeze my knees even closer to my chest and try not to wince.

He frowns. “You sure you’re okay?”

It could be worse. It could be one of the really bad ones.

“I just need to rest.” I give him a weak smile.

“End of break!” Coach shouts.

He stands up and offers me his hand. I grab it and rely entirely on him to get me off the floor. His frown deepens. “I won’t be able to convince you to sit this one out, right?”

I shake my head.

“Okay, then. I’ve got you.”

In the next twenty minutes, the only reason our stunt doesn’t keep failing is Aang. He locks my knee, balances me, and lifts my weight for me. I’m getting a bruise from how tightly his hands are holding me, and I could not be more grateful.

Another cramp. My eyes sting. I put even more teeth into my smile.

When the last flyer touches the floor, Coach ends the session. “Thank you, everyone! I’ll see you at the next training!” 

The gym empties quickly after that. I manage to take three steps toward the exit before another cramp hits. I hiss under my breath.

“You’re not okay.”

I yelp, and for a second, I forget I’m in pain. I didn’t realize Aang hadn’t left my side since he put me down on the floor. But then I remember the pain, because the next cramp screams, It’s a really bad one.

Everything tilts at the wrong degree as I stumble toward the wall. I slam against the cold brick and slide until I’m sitting down. Another cramp. Tears spring to my eyes.

“JJ?” Monique and Bryn are by my side. They must have come back from the locker room when I didn’t show up.

I thought my face was sweaty before, but I’m drenched in sweat now. It’s getting into my eyes and mixing with the tears.

“A really bad one?” Monique asks. “Pills are in your locker?”

I nod.

“I know the code.” She stands up.

“I’ll get a hot water bottle,” Bryn says.

“Wait! What’s happening? Should we call an ambulance?” Aang swims in and out of focus in my vision, but his voice cracks with unmistakable panic.

“Ambulance?” Monique asks. “She’s just on her period.”

“Just on her … She looks like she’s dying.”

Monique sighs. “Stay with her and don’t call an ambulance.” They sprint off.

I close my eyes and lie on the floor in a fetal position. Change to lying on my back. Change back to the fetal position, clutching my stomach. The sweat and tears are in my mouth now.

A backpack drops next to my head. “I’m back,” Aang says.

Huh. I didn’t even notice he left. I crack one eye open. He takes out his phone and types aggressively before dropping it on the ground. “How do I help?”

“Distract me.”

“Distract, okay.” He lies down, facing me. “I’ve watched The Princess and the Frog.”

I perk my head up. “Huh?”

“And I loved it. We should go to New Orleans. You’ll only have to drive for twenty hours.”

“I can’t believe you watched it without me.”

“We can watch it again together.” He smiles. My attempt at smiling back is more of a wince.

The girls come back. Monique puts the pills and my water bottle in my hands. Bryn puts the hot water bottle on my stomach and strokes my hair. I force the water and pills down my throat. Maybe this time they’ll work as intended. I close my eyes and lie down again.

At some point, their whispering becomes louder.

“I’ll drive her home.” That sounds like Monique.

“So she can be alone in her house?” That sounds like Aang.

“Well, she’s not going with you.”

“I’d like to see you try and stop me.”

“What’s going on?” I mutter without opening my eyes.

Aang’s voice gets closer to my ear. He must be kneeling. “I texted my mom. She’ll be here in five minutes. You can stay with us until your parents get home.”

“But …” Monique starts, but she can’t argue. Today is the Pilates class she promised her mom she’d go to. And Bryn has work.

I push the words out with the last bit of energy I have. “I’ll go with Aang. Don’t worry. Love you all.” I fall asleep. Or pass out.

I wake up in a bed. The blinds are down, but a bedside lamp is on. There are rows and rows of books on the other side of the room. A framed Bruce Lee poster hangs on the wall.

I’m in Aang’s room. I’m in his bed. 

I dart my eyes around, searching for my phone. It’s next to me, on the nightstand. I grab it, accidentally knocking over a book, and check the time. Six o’clock. I was out for an hour. Probably three more until my parents are home.

There’s a gentle knock on the door. “JJ?” Aang whispers through the door. “Are you asleep?”

I sit up in the bed. “No.”

He comes in, holding grocery bags. “My mom and I went to the shop.” He unpacks things on the nightstand. A Bounty. Pads with wings. Proper bread.

Proper bread. Not the factory-made foam they sell in the supermarkets here. Real bread, like in Poland.

“Also, my mom made you brown sugar ginger tea. She promises it’ll help.” He sits down on the floor and sets a thermos beside him. “How are you feeling?” His forehead creases.

“Better.” I play with the duvet, eyeing the bread. “How did I get here?”

“I carried you.” He hands me the bread. “Piggyback style. You literally wrapped your hands around my neck.” His forehead crease gets even deeper. “Your pills are strong.”

“It’s not the pills that knock me out. It’s the pain.” I pick at the bread. “I’m sorry about the hassle. It couldn’t have been easy carrying m—”

“Are you serious right now? I’m so sorry. I should have noticed before. I should have helped you.”

My heart tightens.

“Have you been to a doctor about this or something?”

I snicker. “They said it’s normal and I should grow out of it.”

“Doesn’t seem normal.”

I hug the bread to my chest. “One day, when I’m the gynecologist, I’ll say that to my patient.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Just …” He shifts around on the floor. “I always assumed you were going into medicine because your parents told you to.”

I shrug, taking a bite of the bread. “Most people think that.”

He looks like he wants to say more but holds back.

I lower the bread. “Please, don’t make this the first time you have an opinion but keep it to yourself.”

He chuckles. “That is fair.” He rests his elbows on the bed. “I don’t know. I guess I thought I wasn’t most people to you.”

“Who do you think you are, then?” I wipe a crumb off the side of my mouth.

His gaze darts to my lips, and my heartbeat quickens.

Yes. Do it. I slowly bite into my lower lip.

“I …” he breathes out, still staring at my mouth. “Sorry, what was the question?”

I set the bread aside and lean toward him. “Who do you think you are? To me?”

He props himself up, but he’s still on the floor, so it’s one of those rare moments where I’m looking down at him. The thrill of him kneeling in front of me again zaps my spine. “What do you want to do? Right now?”

His eyes dart to my lips again. Triumph surges through me like adrenaline. I know what he wants to do. He knows what he wants to do. Do it. Slowly, he lifts one hand and skims his fingers over my cheekbone. I must look like shit, but he’s studying me with so much fascination, like he’s never seen a girl before.

He leans closer. “Would you like to …” A low, vulnerable sound escapes his throat.

Yes. My eyes are already closed, and my lips part.

“… watch The Princess and the Frog?”

My eyes fly open. “Co?”24

He’s already moving away; whatever emotion possessed his face earlier is gone. “We talked about it earlier. Us watching it together? Should do it. Now. As in, we have time now.” He tries to sound composed, but his words come out shaky. He grabs his laptop. “Movies. Would be fun. To watch movies. Great pastime. Cinematography.” His whole face is red, and he fidgets with his glasses.

This must be a pain-induced nightmare, but even my period could not be this cruel. I’m about to say as much, but his eyes are pleading with me to move on.

I look up at the ceiling, trying to find the strength. “Okay, let’s … watch cinematography.” I shuffle over to make space for him on the bed. He sits on top of the duvet while I’m still under it. I pretend to watch the film, chewing on the bread and sneaking looks at him when his eyes are trained on the screen. His eyelashes touch the rim of his glasses.

Why is he so cute? Why didn’t he kiss me? I know he wanted to. And I’m convinced he could sense how much I wanted him to do it. The desperation was seeping out of me worse than it did in sophomore year when I was about to have my first kiss at Brad’s party with a senior whose name I’d forgotten.

Wait.

Was this going to be his first kiss? Did he just not want it to happen like that?

“I can play a Cantonese movie now? If you want?” he asks.

“Okay.” I didn’t realize the first film had ended.

He starts the next film, adding English subtitles. As young Aaron Kwok enters the screen, my eyes grow heavy. My head lolls onto Aang’s shoulder. He goes rigid for a second before shifting himself lower so it’s easier for me to rest my head on him.

I drift awake to the sound of Aang murmuring lines from the film under his breath. As a tram ricochets between the colonial buildings on the screen, he whispers, “I’ll go there one day. I’ll go home.”

He absent-mindedly lifts his hand and strokes my hair, and my eyes flutter closed again.

If Aang needs more for his first kiss, I’ll text Brad when I get home, I think, before falling asleep.

23 For fuck’s sake. [very aggressive]

24 What?