Written by a Woman

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

SIGNE

I was walking back from refilling my coffee in the breakroom, jotting notes down on my phone for ways to fix the major plot hole that my editor pointed out to me a few days ago, when I heard Zaid laugh.

I stopped in my tracks and immediately lifted my head up and to the side, spotting him leaning against the wall with Nikhil. Both of them were staring at me with grins on their faces, and I glanced behind myself to see what they were smiling at. After seeing nothing and nobody behind me, I met their gaze again.

“Nice sweatshirt,” Nikhil explained.

I glanced down at the black sweatshirt that had the words, “My Body Hurts And I’m Mad At The Government” in white letters and returned their smiles.

“It’s a fan favorite.” I smiled.

“Fans?” Zaid asked, “You have fans?”

I opened my mouth before shutting it, realizing that bragging about my fanbase who was currently still obsessing over a fictional character inspired by a very non-fictional man probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

“One day,” I winked, recovering.

Nikhil grinned and started chatting with Zaid again.

And that was when my day went to hell because I suddenly felt a warm wet gush in my underwear.

Shit .

I stayed standing in my spot, glancing at my phone again to check my health app to see if I had gotten my days mixed up.

I didn’t.

My period just decided to come six days early. Ugh.

I quickly walked over to my desk to grab my purse, opening the hidden zipper pocket to grab a tampon, but feeling my chest tighten in panic when I realized that there weren’t any in there.

I started opening the small bank of desk drawers underneath my desk, desperately searching for a tampon or pad or something .

I had recently lost my period cup and hadn’t gotten my newest one delivered yet. I couldn’t remember the last time I needed an actual tampon or pad, which probably explained why I couldn’t find any in the places I would normally stash them.

“Everything alright?” I heard Zaid ask. The two men were now watching me frantically search my desk for feminine hygiene products.

“Fine,” I smiled at them as I double-checked my desk area. Purse. Drawer. Drawer number two. Drawer number three. Drawer number four, which I already knew for a fact only had Hostess pastries stashed in there away from Mary’s grabby hands.

I tried to hide my panic by smiling at Nikhil and Zaid again, who gave me curious looks in return, and made my way over to Mary at her desk cluster where the software engineers worked.

“Hey,” I smiled, before leaning on her desk casually with my elbows as if I was just saying hello, “Do you happen to have a spare tampon?”

Mary’s mouth opened a little and her eyes widened before she ignored whatever code she was working on and started opening her desk drawers. They were all empty, save for a spare pen or empty energy drink can rolling around.

She came up with nothing, even after padding the pockets of her cargo pants, “I’m so sorry,” Mary whispered back to me, “I use a cup, I haven’t needed one of those myself for a while.”

“Damn,” I smiled at her good-naturedly, “I’m in your same position, except I don’t have my cup on me.”

“Oh no,” Mary’s eyes widened, pulling her phone out and thumbing away at it, “I’ll ask Jamie.” I nodded and leaned against her desk. Mary was the only uterus owner on this side of the building. All the other software engineers, except for Alice who hadn’t started yet, were men. Men, with their useless penises that didn’t bleed once a month.

Mary’s phone vibrated in her hand and a second later a frown pulled at her red-painted lips, “Shit,” Mary’s dark eyes lifted to meet mine, “She just used the last of her stock today.”

“Frick,” I sighed, “Maybe I’ll ask Jaqueline.”

Mary nodded and wished me luck as I departed, wondering if I would have to run to the nearest convenience store, or maybe even just call it a day and go home early.

Nikhil and Zaid weren’t near my desk anymore, but now they were standing in the middle of the open-concept area between all the upper management’s personal office spaces. Brandon was with them, and it didn’t look like a particularly fun or happy discussion that the men were having, so I didn’t draw too much attention to myself as I walked past them toward Jacqueline’s office.

Thankfully, her door was open, and I peeked my head inside while I gently knocked my knuckles on the doorframe.

Her head jerked up from her computer screen, and she reached up to remove her earbuds as she said, “Hey.”

“Hey,” I stopped in the threshold of her office and lifted my hand to the side of my mouth to keep our conversation from echoing into the open space behind me, “Do you have a tampon?”

Jacqueline’s lips made an O shape before she reached down into her purse and started rummaging around.

I crossed my fingers in anticipation as she searched.

“I’m so sorry,” Jacqueline winced as she set her purse on her desk, “but there is a box in the lady’s room.”

“Oh,” I nodded and gave her a thumbs up, so she wouldn’t feel too bad at not having a spare tampon for me to use. Heading in the direction of the restrooms, I awkwardly nodded at the men still standing together in the open-concept area, chatting about a Python or something, and made it to the restroom. I didn’t remember seeing a box of feminine hygiene products in the past, but to be fair, I usually avoided using public restrooms at all costs and never lingered. Because gross.

There was no box of pads or tampons to be found, and my whine of frustration was met with another small but unpleasant gush in my underwear.

Fuck this .

I turned around, ready to go home, when I saw what Jacqueline must have been talking about.

Of course! Most ladies’ rooms had a box mounted to the wall. Older ones were usually coin-operated, but surely Sun Steer wouldn’t expect women to pay for hygiene products in their office, right?

I jumped over to the feminine hygiene product dispenser and turned the little knob, but it stopped halfway.

I cursed and tried again.

Nothing.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” I grumbled through clenched teeth before trying a third time.

A quarter was really required for this shit?

In this economy?

I was on the verge of boiling over with female rage.

I stomped my way towards the bathroom door, throwing it open, ready to tear the office apart for a fucking quarter when Zaid suddenly appeared in front of me.

I was momentarily surprised to see him, but not enough to cool my temper.

“Are you alright?” Zaid asked, shoving his hands in the pocket of his slacks and glancing nervously over my shoulder towards the women’s restroom, where I had just stormed out. I couldn’t even take the time to admire how the man made a polo shirt look attractive and athletic because I was so stressed out over my situation.

“Do you have a quarter?” I asked, holding my palm out.

Zaid’s dark eyebrows jumped as he glanced at my outreached hand and gave me a confused expression, “A quarter?” I had to give the man credit because he immediately started patting his pants with his hands, before pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Yes,” I had no idea what facial expression I was making, but I was positive I was weirding Zaid out. At the same time, I continued, “Because, for some reason, Sun Steer thinks it’s appropriate to charge their employees who own uteruses for feminine hygiene products.”

Zaid froze as he opened his wallet, and his lips parted the slightest bit before he pressed them together again and cleared his throat, “Oh. Um—”

“Which is insane to me, considering Sun Steer has an entire mother’s lounge in case anyone is breastfeeding and needs a place to nurse or pump. It almost feels like women aren’t worth supporting until after we pop a baby out.” I interrupted him, stepping forward and eyeballing his open wallet. He took the hint and continued to pull out three quarters, before dropping them in the palm of my hand, “Tell me, Mr. Ansara,” I glared up at the CTO of Sun Steer, the rage of all my female ancestors filling my veins, “Does Sun Steer make you pay for toilet paper so that you can wipe your own ass?”

Zaid was silent, and visibly stunned at my abrupt and crude question.

“N-no,” He managed to choke out, shaking his head once in the negative.

“So why the hell am I expected to insert a quarter into a dispensing machine to get a tampon?”

“Signe!” I heard Jacqueline’s voice down the hall, which made both Zaid and I turn our heads to see her stalking towards us, “This isn’t appropriate—”

“No,” I shook my head in agreement, “It isn’t. I shouldn’t have to ask someone for a quarter so that I can avoid bleeding through my pants at work.”

“ Signe! ” Jacqueline gasped as she finally reached us, sending an apologetic look to Zaid.

“It’s okay,” Zaid stepped towards me, his large hand resting on my shoulder as he addressed the head of HR, “She’s allowed to be upset.”

“Damn straight.” I nodded.

“Go,” Zaid used his warm grip on my shoulder to turn me back towards the restrooms, “I’ll make sure to disengage the coin mechanism later.”

Jacqueline and I both hesitated our steps to stare at Zaid for a moment, who in response simply pushed me toward the bathroom again.

“Go ahead, Signe,” Zaid encouraged, before turning to Jacqueline, “Can you help me find who installed those dispensers?”

“Y-yeah,” Jacqueline nodded, pulling her phone out of the pocket of her jeans, and tapping away. I left them in my dust as I ran back into the bathroom. My simmering rage was starting to die down at the relief of inserting the quarter into the machine and having a tampon fall into my hand.

I then decided to use the two extra quarters Zaid gave me to grab two more. I probably wouldn’t need these two tampons for the rest of the workday, so I set them on top of the stupid coin-operated dispenser in case one of the other people who had periods in the office ended up in the same pickle I was.

I was still grumpy the rest of the day.

Maybe it was because I was on my period, (but I was the only one allowed to say such a thing) or maybe I was stressed about all the work ahead of me now that I received edits back.

I decided to send Eloise a text about it after work, knowing she would validate my anger.

Me: I had to pay 25 cents to use a tampon at work today.

Eloise: Pardon my French, but what the fuck? Did you ask your job to comp you for that?

Me: Actually, I yelled at someone from upper management to give me a quarter. So, technically, I guess Sun Steer did comp me for it.

Eloise: Good for you. Fucking men. Fucking patriarchy. Fucking fuck.

Me: PREACH.

I inhaled a heavy breath through my nose, before releasing the air through my mouth. I could always count on her to let me vent and validate me for doing so in these random moments like this.

Eloise: Not to change the subject too soon, but didn’t you post recently about getting edits back? How is that going?

I slumped, realizing that Eloise still had no idea that the book she was so excited about was technically fanfic of a very real person that I worked with. The person who was kind enough to give me his quarters so that I could rectify the tampon situation at work.

Regardless, only a small part of me was currently anxious about the CTO-inspired romance I was still editing. I figured I’d let my anger fuel the excuse of doing such a thing, that Zaid could deal with the fact that I secretly wrote a character inspired by him, if I have to live in a world where it was expected of women to pay more for the mere fact that we were born with uteruses.

It wasn’t logical, but that didn’t stop me from feeling my feelings about it.

This is also why I responded to Eloise with a thumbs up and sobbing face emojis, and nothing else.

* * *

The next morning, I wasn’t as upset as I was the day before. Which, if I was being honest, may have solidified my theory that my period actually does influence my emotional response to things on occasion. I was walking to my desk that morning, my mind scrambling for ways to apologize to Zaid for chewing him out for no real reason, and also to Jacqueline, for being an employee who felt comfortable yelling at the CTO for simply being a man.

As I rounded my desk to set my purse down, though, I came to a halt.

There was a snake plant on my desk, right next to my computer.

It had a little red bow tied around the terracotta pot, and a note neatly tucked into the band of the bow.

I glanced around to see if whoever left this on my desk was still around, but the halls were empty.

So, I plopped myself into my chair and admired the cute little snake plant.

Though I loved flowers and thought that they were pretty, my sinuses did not. I was allergic to anything that pollinated, which meant I was always one step away from dragging around a Zyrtec or a Benadryl IV stand during the spring and summertime. If anyone was going to get me some sort of plant for any special occasion, an indoor plant like this was a better way to go for me.

But did anyone I worked with actually know that?

Instead of wondering what special occasion justified the plant on my desk, I plucked the note out of the bow to see if that provided answers.

Sincerest apologies, Zaid

Sun Steer Technologies

I felt my mouth gape open in surprise.

He was apologizing.

Even though I was the one who snapped at him.

This is how Mary ended up finding me, trotting over to my desk with raised eyebrows and a smirk on her lips, “Are you the reason I have a new plant on my desk this morning?”

“Huh?” I asked, blinking at Mary in an attempt to focus on her.

“I would assume so,” Mary continued, slamming her elbows on the elevated ledge of my desk, and nodding towards the snake plant, “Is Zaid apologizing to all the women in the office? Because Jamie has a snake plant on her desk too. And so does Jacqueline.”

I sat there, slack-jawed at Mary’s words.

“Did you get an apology note too?” I asked.

“Sure did, in the cleanest handwriting I had ever seen from an engineer,” Mary smiled at my plant and trailed one of her fingertips up the leaf.

“I mean, it’s cool, but I’m also wondering why we didn’t get flowers. That’s what men normally give women to apologize, right?” Mary and I sat in silence for a beat before she shook her head once and continued, “Well, it doesn’t matter. The plant will last longer, and it’s still beautiful. I’m happy with it. I’m off to enjoy my cute little plant that doesn’t smell as good as flowers.” Mary smirked before tapping her knuckles on the high ledge of my desk and sauntering back toward hers.

I smiled at her antics before quirking my lips to the side and studying the snake plant some more.

I loved it, I never even thought about having a desk plant here. I never thought about doing much to personalize my desk space because I always mentally had one foot out the door. I wanted to be a writer, not an office manager.

But I appreciated the lift it brought to my job. The place where I spent at least forty hours of my week.

However, Mary had a point. Why not flowers? Why a desk plant? I decided to go ask the man himself, standing from my desk and doing my best not to physically skip over to his office.

I had just turned the corner to the wing where upper management’s offices were, when I spotted the CTO exiting his office with an empty coffee mug.

“Mister Ansara,” I spoke, gaining his attention as he lifted his eyes away from the phone in his hand.

“Miss Lange,” I felt my heart skip a beat at how easily he played with me now. How he was more willing to meet my energy. I wondered if I was too harsh, too judgmental of the man when I first started here. How I wrote him off as shy and never expected much from him. Just because he was shy, didn’t mean he didn’t have a personality. A personality I was slowly, dangerously becoming obsessed with as time marched on.

“I got your note,” I lifted the folded paper in between my index and middle fingers as evidence as I started walking with him towards the break room.

“Good,” Zaid nodded his head once with seriousness, “I’m afraid it won’t undo the systemic sexism that is plaguing corporate America,” he lifted his shoulder, “But I figured it was a step in the right direction.”

“So,” I released a surprised laugh, loving how dry his humor was, “You’re apologizing to all the women in the office on behalf of—”

“All the men in the office, yes,” we reached the break room and he stepped to the side, gesturing with the empty mug in his hand that I should go inside first.

I laughed again before crossing the threshold “I feel like I should be the one apologizing.”

Zaid hesitated as he placed his mug underneath the dispenser, lifting one eyebrow in question as he turned his head to look at me, “For what?”

“For snapping at you yesterday,” I shrugged, “Not for taking your quarters, but for my attitude when you were just, I don’t know, going about your day?”

“On the contrary,” Zaid turned back to his coffee as he pressed the buttons to start the brew, before folding his massive arms and leaning a hip against the countertop, “I appreciate you pointing out the issue to me. I don’t know who decided to install dispensers that made women pay for products, but I have someone coming today to rectify the situation.”

“Really?” I asked, unable to hide my smile.

Zaid nodded, “If I don’t have to pay for toilet paper to wipe my own ass,” I groaned in embarrassment as I tugged the collar of my t-shirt over half of my face to hide my flaming cheeks, “Then women shouldn’t have to pay for products so that they don’t, um…” he waved his hand in the air, the tips of his ears turning the slightest shade of pink in embarrassment.

“Bleed through their pants?” I whispered underneath the hem of my shirt.

“Yes,” Zaid chuckled as we settled into silence again, nothing but the sound of the coffee maker pouring liquid energy into his mug.

“Can I ask,” I cleared my throat and lowered my shirt back into place, “Why a desk plant? Why not flowers?”

Zaid had just been reaching into his pocket to pull his phone out again when he froze with my question.

For a moment, he looked like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Like a kid who got caught in a lie or busted for something. The reaction surprised me, but the way he immediately cleared his throat and schooled his features made me wonder if I had imagined that reaction.

“I wasn’t sure if anyone had allergies,” a small pinch in his brow formed with his words.

“Huh,” I tilted my head to the side, “That’s very considerate of you.”

“My younger sister can’t handle certain flowers,” Zaid replied as he thumbed away at his phone, “Star-gazer lilies specifically, because of how potent they are.”

I blinked at him, surprised that his sister and I happened to have that in common.

“I see,” I fidgeted with the bottom hem of my t-shirt, “Anyway, thank you again. The snake plants really go with the vibe of the office. With the other office plants around the building, I mean.”

“That’s good,” Zaid nodded as I started making my way out of the break room, “Signe?”

“Yeah?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder in the doorway to look at him.

He seemed so relaxed leaning against the countertop, the presence of business casual in his slacks and his tried-and-true black t-shirt, waiting for what I assumed was his third cup of coffee that morning already, “Don’t forget to water the plant.”

I rolled my eyes at him and smiled, “It’s a snake plant, it’s low maintenance.”

“But will still require some water on occasion.”

“You’re one to talk,” I stared pointedly at his coffee cup before meeting his teasing expression, “You also require some water on occasion.”

“Nah,” he retrieved his mug with the freshly brewed coffee and took a loud slurp to emphasize his point. I just shook my head and laughed before leaving him in the breakroom to die of dehydration.