Nobody’s Perfect

Chapter 19

Once again I awakened to the less than dulcet tones of my buzzing phone.

I sat up straight in bed. Maybe my karaoke video had taken off like my other one. After all, I d gotten pretty deep with my thoughts there at the conclusion.

Nope.

Once again, it was an unknown number.

I started to ignore it, but then I thought it could be someone important, so I answered with a lackluster hello, kinda like a child who wakes up on December 26 and hopes that Santa might ve come an extra night, only to discover the spot under the tree bare.

Vivian?

Yes, I said, now confused because I couldn t place the voice. For a half second I thought it was Mitch, but that was my mind playing tricks on me.

This is Parker.

Parker?

Vivian, are you there?

I m here. Sorry. I was confused because your name didn t pop up.

I got your number from Cassidy, who got it from Suja, he said sheepishly. I, uh . . . Well, I kinda need your help again.

Right now?

Yeah, he said, and I could tell from the way his voice lilted at the end that he was trying to keep his cool but was seriously freaked out about something.

What do you need?

Soooo, Cassidy has apparently started her period.

Oh.

Of all the things I d expected him to say, that was not it.

I called my mom, but she lives in Arkansas. First, Cassidy wouldn t go to school. Now she won t come out of the bathroom because she doesn t have whatever it is she needs, and she doesn t trust me to buy them for her. Her grand plan is to wait for a friend to come home from school. Do you have anything?

Lord, no. I had a hysterectomy three years ago. Best thing I ever did.

Ah, I see.

Cute how he had a hard time with woman talk.

I can still come over and talk with her, though. Or maybe act like a translator and talk you through what to get?

Yes to both. Please?

Be there in a second. I rolled out of bed. I didn t want to think about my makeup situation, because I had definitely not bothered to take it off the night before. In this case, Parker would have to take what he could get.

Where are you going? Mom asked when I reached the front door.

Helping Parker.

Who?

Our neighbor. The one who needed the dress hemmed.

Oh, she said in a way that suggested she still didn t know who I was talking about. With what?

His daughter got her first period, if you must know.

Poor thing, Mom said. But this affects you how?

He asked for help. He s kinda clueless on the subject.

Mom looked over the rim of her glasses. I know I joked about the rules I once told you, but the most important is not to jump from one man to another. It really is like jumping out of the frying pan right into the fire.

Mom! It s not like that!

She shrugged. The woman who gave birth to me had the audacity to shrug. Just be careful.

I bit back a retort about how her approach obviously wasn t working and set off for my neighbor s house.

He met me at the front door. I ll go to the store, and you can text me what she wants. That way we can maybe save some time?

Sure, I said. I had not yet had coffee, so I was not the one to be making plans.

She s upstairs, locked in the bathroom.

Oh, good. Not hysterical at all, I see.

I bought her a couple of books, Parker said. She told me she s watched YouTube videos about it.

As if a YouTube video could really encapsulate the menstrual experience.

And they had some presentation at the elementary school.

I snorted. That presentation serves no purpose other than having all the guys asking the girls if they ve started their periods yet and then blaming their irritability on PMS.

I see. His tone suggested he d either forgotten what it was like to be a fifth-grade boy or he d somehow skipped the Facts of Life presentation.

You can go on. I ll text you what she needs.

As I climbed the stairs, I heard his car engine start. I called upstairs, Cassidy? It s Vivian from next door.

Go away!

Not promising.

Your dad s worried about you, and he s not entirely sure what to do.

Tell him to sit by the door, then.

Well, he s gone to the store to buy your supplies.

That earned me a few seconds of silence. He went to buy . . . stuff for me?

Yeah, but he doesn t know what you need. What do you want? Pads? Tampons?

He s going to embarrass me, she wailed.

Honey, it s a Friday morning. No one s going to know who he is or for whom he s buying these things. Besides, it s all part of being a woman. You ll have to buy them yourself one day.

I don t want to be a woman.

Same, kid. Same.

Look, I know periods aren t optimal. Understatement of the year. But, well, you gotta do something. You can t spend the next seven days sitting on the toilet.

Seven days?

Er, it may not be that long, I said. Apparently, Parker hadn t considered the fact that buying books wasn t the same thing as making sure they were read. Also, what were they teaching the kids in that awful fifth-grade puberty class these days? I m guessing you didn t read any of the books your father bought you? What about your friends? Do they ever talk about their periods?

I don t have any friends here, and my friends from my old school are all either boys or mad at me for moving away.

Okay, then. PMS and being a thirteen-year-old.

A headache threatened to bloom behind my eyes.

And my stomach hurts, and I feel like . . . She paused.

I understood both the pain and the embarrassment of a certain sensation that no one bothered to really warn a young girl about. Cramps?

Yes. Cassidy s voice came out a relieved whisper that I could hardly hear.

We can fix those cramps with some Advil. Do you have any pads in there?

No.

Is it really, really heavy, or do you think you can wrap toilet tissue around your underwear and come out here?

Do what? she said in a shriek, clearly scandalized by the idea. One day, she would have an emergency and thank me for the idea.

At that moment, Parker texted me: What do I need? Some of these? Fresh scent? Super tampons?

Vivian: Slow your roll.

Hey, Cassidy? Your dad s at the store. Do you think you ll want pads or tampons?

Pads? she answered tentatively. But I saw this cool YouTube video about menstrual cups, and they re supposed to be better for the environment and cheaper in the long run and-

Let s start with pads, I said. Talking about videos meant that Cassidy had to be feeling better, and I wanted to encourage that, but menstrual cups and novices didn t seem like a good idea to me. Heck, I wouldn t know what to do with a menstrual cup if my life depended on it. My generation was just overjoyed to get freaking wings on our pads.

You want me to make some suggestions to him?

She paused. Yeah, I guess.

Once you get the hang of pads, then I ll make sure he gets you a menstrual cup, I said.

I took her lack of answer as a yes and texted Parker.

Vivian: Always pads, regular and overnight, ultra thin, with wings, no scent.

Parker: These store brand pads are cheaper.

Vivian: There s a reason for that.

Parker: No scent? Don t women like scents?

Vivian: Just get what I said.

A vague memory came to mind of Cassidy saying she liked swim team better than band.

Vivian: Wait a minute!

Hey, Cassidy, you don t by any chance have a swim meet or-

Cassidy opened the bathroom door, her face crumpled at the mention of the words swim meet.

I have to go to a special swim practice tomorrow or Coach won t let me swim at the meet. And now I m not going to be able to!

Yes, you will, I said. We ll get you some tampons.

But-

Hon, if you can even think about menstrual cups, you can handle a tampon.

Okay, she said softly, sounding far more girl than woman.

Why don t you find some Advil, yeah?

Cassidy went downstairs, and I returned to my texting.

Vivian: Tampax Pearl, one box of light and one box of regular, no scent.

Parker: But

Vivian: No scent! And yes Tampax! And yes Pearl! And get some pantyliners, too.

I held my breath while the three little dots danced, but then he sent a picture with every last one of my requests.

Vivian: Perfect. You take directions well. BTW she s out of the bathroom, and we re working on something for the cramps.

Parker: Cramps? She already has cramps?

Vivian: Oh, you poor sweet summer child. Get more Advil. And Tylenol. Morphine if they ve got it.

I got Cassidy to take some Advil and eat a snack. Then I turned on the television to distract her and managed to find a heating pad. We sat on the couch together, and Cassidy surprised me by leaning her head on my shoulder.

The poor girl was feeling bad.

This really your first period? I asked. Usually the first set of cramps aren t this bad.

Cassidy bit her lip. I think I might have had a little-bitty period, but I thought I just hadn t, you know?

I did, indeed, know.

Well, welcome to womanhood.

I don t like it.

Sometimes I don t, either, but it is what it is. I smiled, stifling the urge to kiss her. She wasn t my child. Having the strange neighbor woman kiss her head might be too much considering everything else she d been through today.

I turned my attention to the cartoon Cassidy had chosen. Apparently, the child felt the need to regress. I didn t blame her. You know, not every father would go out and get feminine plumbing supplies like that.

What?

Feminine plumbing-oh, you know, pads and tampons and such.

Well I don t want someone to see me buying them, said Cassidy with a shudder.

Honey, it s all perfectly natural. I resisted the impulse to push her hair out of her face. After all, our current camaraderie had been forged out of necessity, and the closeness might or might not last.

The boys at school make fun of us and are always asking if we have PMS or if we re on our period or something. They made fun of one girl because they could see the outline of her pad through her pants.

So eighth grade had changed very little.

I m going to tell you something, but you absolutely cannot tell your father that I said it.

What? Cassidy was all wide eyes and freckles.

I dramatically looked to my left and then my right, even craning my head as though checking to see who might be at the front door. I leaned in to whisper, Most eighth-grade boys are assholes.

Cassidy giggled just as I had hoped she would.

In all seriousness, I said as I leaned back into the couch, your father is quite a guy for going out to buy tampons and pads.

But shouldn t guys do that? Especially dads?

I paused. Mitch would ve cut off his own arm before he d buy a box of tampons. I knew because I d once made the mistake of asking him to pick up some for me on his way home from work.

But the kid was right.

Yeah, it is a low bar to clear, I said. I guess I m saying I don t know your dad that well, but he seems like one of the good guys in a world full of guys who haven t emotionally left the eighth grade yet.

Cassidy looked up at me solemnly. Like your husband?

How did she know about Mitch?

Vivian, she could probably hear the yelling over there.

You are very astute.

What does that mean?

Ah, free SAT lesson: astute means you are very shrewd, very smart for your age. Don t be like me. Marry a guy who s willing to buy you a box of tampons.

Cassidy nodded in confusion. She was probably wondering how her day had come to this. I didn t have the heart to tell her that this was just the beginning of wild, weird womanhood.

I opened my mouth to change the subject, but Parker chose that moment to come through the door.

Okay, Cass. Miss Vivian suggested all of this, so be mad at her if it doesn t work.

Okay, she said, but the look she gave me said that she couldn t be mad at me in a million years.

My heart squeezed in on itself.

Miss Vivian, can you show me how to use a tampon tomorrow before my swim practice?

I choked on my glass of water. Uh, I ve never really shown someone that. Maybe try reading the directions first and then call me if you have any trouble?

Please don t have trouble. Please don t have trouble. Please don t have trouble.

I held my breath, fearing the girl would ask for more hands-on instructions, but she shrugged and said, Okay, before taking a pad from the box and running upstairs.

I also got these, Parker said softly, holding up two chocolate bars.

Oh, good call! I said. Mind if I take a picture and make a video about this?

About chocolate? Uh, sure? I guess?

No, about your adventures in the feminine-hygiene aisle.

He didn t say anything, and I could tell that he wasn t pleased with the idea. Well, I continued, I was just telling Cassidy about how some men would never do this in a million years, and I thought it might be important.

Parker blinked. Why wouldn t men do this?

My heart did a funny flip-flop.

Where was this man back in the late 90s?

Middle school, you cradle robber.

And that was the image I needed. I may have picked the wrong man as my husband, but developing a crush on my neighbor would be a very stupid thing to do.

Stop it. No crushes. You have got to divorce Mitch and get your own head screwed on straight before you can even think about other men, especially not this one who is younger than you are and comes with a teen daughter who might not be keen on you as a stepmother.

Seriously. What other men wouldn t do this for their own daughter or wife?

You d be surprised, I said, my words tasting more bitter than I would ve liked.

Parker shrugged. In that case, take a picture or a video or whatever.

I couldn t bring myself to make another video, so I took some pictures that I could put into a video later. How about I take a couple of pictures and don t mention you by name.

That sounds better, he said, his cautious tone betraying the breezy words. And leave Cassidy out of this one.

Of course!

I took a few pictures of Parker with the pads, tampons, and chocolate. I could easily crop the images so that only his torso and ridiculously attractive forearms showed.

Vivian, seriously.

Mind you, anyone who d watched the video about the dress would quickly put two and two together, but no one was watching the video about the dress. Views of my viral video had leveled off, so I could be relatively certain that my fifteen minutes of fame had come to an end.

Oh! Before you go, Parker was saying as he put the remaining pads and tampons on the coffee table, I got us both coffee.

You brought me coffee? I asked with a tone of voice better suited to asking him if he d finally brought me the pony I asked Santa for back in third grade.

Well, yeah. It sounded like I woke you up. Let me go get it from the car, he said before heading back to the garage.

Dammit, coffee was one of my love languages.

Fine. You can have a crush, Vivian, but you absolutely cannot do anything about it because it wouldn t be fair to you or to him, and he s probably just being nice anyway.

But he returned with two cups from the Bucks, and I couldn t help but give a contented sigh after the first sip and wonder what my life would ve been like if I d waited until I found a man who bought tampons and brought coffee.