Chapter 33
Alondra
The sound of silverware clinking against porcelain plates fills the awkward silence as I slump in the chair of my parents’ dining room I’ve been summoned to for dinner tonight.
This is the last place I wanted to be tonight, especially because I’m on the second day of my period, and my cramps are barely being held at bay by the Motrin I took earlier.
It’s also finals week, but I haven’t had too much to do, whereas Jack has been a bundle of stress, pushing himself to do well on all his exams. He’s looking at having his highest GPA this semester since starting college, but I think it’s putting more pressure than necessary on his shoulders.
Regardless of how his tests go, I couldn’t be more proud of him.
“It’s delicious,” Dad says, cutting through the tension to smile at my mom sitting next to him.
“Thanks, hun,” she says, smiling back at him. “Do you have many finals left?” Mom asks, and I shrug my shoulders.
“One, but it’s not a formal exam, just an essay I have to turn in later tonight,” I say, taking another bite of the roasted chicken she prepared. I told Jack I would finish reading through his after I’m done here.
“Have you seen Bradley around?” she asks, and my entire body stills, the chicken tasting like rubber as I finish chewing it. “He was such a nice boy. I don’t know why you won’t give him another chance,” Mom continues before I’m able to swallow the food in my mouth.
Yeah, Mom. He was so nice, he liked to hurt me, and made me believe it was my fault.
“We’re not getting back together,” I say, because what’s the point of saying anything else? I could show them the whole hidden folder on my phone of the marks and bruises that Bradley left behind, but I’m not certain they’d believe he gave them to me.
Dad takes a sip of his water, making eye contact with me, but he doesn’t say anything.
He hasn’t said anything to me since our run-in at the rink after Thanksgiving, but I’m wondering if this dinner is an elaborate scheme to ask me about what happened with Jack last week.
That would require Dad talking to me, though, and since we’re clearly not doing that, I say nothing either.
“Are you seeing anyone else?” she asks, and Dad huffs.
I set my fork down, and now is not the right time to tell them I bought a ticket to visit Jack the day after Christmas because I’m incapable of telling him no.
Lucky for me, I’m frugal with my savings account, but I got a good deal on an early flight, and now all I can do is hope the weather cooperates.
“Kind of,” I say, smoothing the napkin in my lap.
“I thought we agreed you were done seeing Jack outside of tutoring,” Dad says, and Mom’s eyebrows knit, her gaze bouncing between us.
“Who is Jack?”
Only the best person I’ve ever met.
“My captain,” he says, and her eyes widen.
“We didn’t agree. You dictated, and I decided to let Jack make the choice for himself. He thinks he can have hockey and be my friend,” I say, and Dad scoffs, setting his utensils down.
“You’re a prime example of why I want you to stay away from him. You had everything going for you, and you still quit for a boy who broke up with you four months later,” he says, but that’s not what happened.
“Keith,” Mom says, and I’m surprised, because normally she’s the first person on his side.
She’s not a bad mom, she’s just very averse to conflict, but maybe she’s finally getting there’s more to this than the assumptions that’ve been thrown in my face for the last year.
“Alondra, maybe you should listen to your father,” she says, proving me wrong in the same breath.
“Are you serious?” I ask, my pitch climbing in disbelief. “I’m sorry, but being friends with Jack doesn’t mean he’s going to quit hockey. Why can’t you just stay out of it?”
Mom sighs, taking a breath. “And why do you feel the need to fight your father on everything he asks of you?”
“Maybe I should bite my tongue more, but if you ever considered there might be more to the story than whatever it is you think you know, I wouldn’t have to.
I’ve been helping Jack with all of his classes this semester to make sure he keeps his eligibility to play hockey, and I haven’t missed a single game he’s asked me to go to.
I love skating the same way Jack loves hockey, and I’m sorry you don’t believe me,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat, and pushing my chair back from the table as my parents stare at me in surprise.
“Thank you for dinner, but I have to go help your captain with his final, Dad.”
I grab my things by the front door, slipping into my boots to make my great escape before another lecture can start. I’m calling Jack by the time I get to my car.
“Hey, darlin’,” Jack greets, and as much as it drove me nuts in the beginning when he called me that, I’ve come to cherish it. “You on your way over?” he asks, already understanding my next move.
“Is it okay if I am?” I ask, starting my car, blasting the heat since my teeth are already chattering from the cold. I definitely think I would’ve lasted longer through dinner if I weren’t on my period, but unfortunately, my hormones are out of wack.
“You never have to ask,” he says, and I already feel better after that shitshow of a dinner. I hear the guys whooping in the background, and Jack groans. “Sorry, we’re playing Irish Poker.”
I chuckle, shaking my head because I can only imagine the chaos. “Is it Dylan’s turn?”
“Yep, Coop is the dealer,” Jack says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Is Nate helping him?” I ask, and tiny snowflakes start to hit my windshield.
“If you mean by helping him, he’s telling him all the wrong answers, yes,” he says, laughing again. “Oh, I meant to tell you I picked up some of those things from the store for you.”
Could he be any less specific about what those things are? “I don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty boy,” I say, trying to figure out if there was something I asked him for, but I don’t think there is?
“I didn’t know what kind you like, and there were a lot of options, so I got a few different types. If I got it wrong, then I can just take them back, or donate them, or something,” he rambles, but I’m still not following.
“What did you buy?”
“Well, I know you’re on your period, and since it’s supposed to happen every month, I didn’t want you to feel like you have to worry about having stuff here, so I bought some tampons and pads to keep in the bathrooms,” Jack says, and I blink, sputtering as I try to think of how to respond to that.
It’s moments like this I have to remind myself he’s not actually my boyfriend, because I find myself falling for Jack a little more every day, finding a new part of him to love.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, trying to play it off, and Jack laughs.
“Why wouldn’t I if it makes you more comfortable? Besides, they’re here for Ellie and Sara too, and I guess if any of these buffoons get girlfriends, they can use them too,” Jack says, and I think I’m in some real trouble.
How am I supposed to pretend I’m not falling head over fucking heels for Jack?
“Al?”
I clear my throat, glad he gave me a heads up about this so I have a chance to compose myself before I see him, because I’m ready to burst into tears. Stupid hormones.
“Sorry, I was focusing on the road. It just started snowing,” I say, buying myself a moment.
“I’ll let you go then. Drive safe.”
“See you in a few,” I say, trying to calm the butterflies fluttering in my chest.
It’s not just a little crush.
Leave it to me to fall for the most unavailable guy on campus I have no chance with.
I park on the street in front of their house, dragging my hands over my face. What am I doing here? Maybe I should go to my apartment instead, and ask Jack for forgiveness for ditching. On the other hand, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with him, even if it causes me more pain in the end.
Is it really that far-fetched of an idea to hope Jack might return my feelings, even if he’s not ready to admit it?
I climb out, tucking my arms tight around myself while I run to the door, flurries kissing my cheeks. I knock once before opening the door, and Jack’s entire face lights up when he turns my way, hopping over the back of the couch to greet me at the door, helping me out of my coat.
Jack kisses my cheek, and the damn butterflies are back. He scans over my face, and I give him a smile, hoping he can’t read too far between the lines to see how I feel about him. “I’m sorry it didn’t go well,” he says, keeping his voice soft while he tucks my hair behind my ear.
“How do you know it didn’t go well?” I ask, as Nate laughs from the other room.
“Because you were supposed to be there for another hour. I might not be a genius, but even I can connect the dots that you and your dad got into it,” he says, and I don’t love the dig he makes at himself.
“Hey, you are smart,” I say, and Jack shrugs, leaning down to distract me with a kiss.
“Wanna play with them?”
“Sure, but I have to work on our essays at some point,” I say, sliding my arm around his lower back. Dylan’s walking down the hall, looking confused by the plastic wrapper in his hand, which I immediately recognize as a tampon. I guess Jack didn’t wait to let me look through the boxes.
“Hey, what are these in the bathroom?” he asks, and his timing couldn’t be better because my lower stomach cramps serve as a reminder I’m in hell for the next few days, and I grimace.
Jack and I stop, waiting to see how this plays out.
Coop snorts, taking a drink of his beer as Nate flips another card over for him. “Why are you holding a tampon?”
Dylan looks at it, his eyes widening. “This is a tampon? What the hell does the S stand for?”
“I think it’s the size or something,” Coop says, and Ellie trained him well, but Dylan’s making it painfully obvious he doesn’t have any sisters.
Dylan tears it open as Jack sighs next to me, but I’m curious to see how this will play out. His mouth drops, and he holds the plastic applicator up. “And they do what with these?”
I cough, causing all of their eyes to dart to mine. “Um, you don’t know how a tampon works?” I ask, and Coop shrugs. I look up at Jack who also is looking at the tampon like it has claws and teeth, and I giggle, covering my mouth. “Do you want a demonstration?”
Jack’s eyes widen, he looks down at my stomach before looking at his friends. “Um, Al—”
I hit his chest with the back of my hand as his face turns crimson. “Oh my god, I’m not going to show you with my vagina!”
Nate laughs, shaking his head. “Wow, you really need to be more specific.”
“I hate living here,” Coop says, rubbing his temples.
“You know what, sure, why not?” Dylan says, plopping down on the couch, and I chuckle, slipping away from Jack to find an unopened water bottle.
I move their game of Irish Poker out of the way on the coffee table, holding out my hand for Dylan to hand me the tampon he opened, and I wish Ellie was here to witness this.
“Okay, so first, you obviously take off the wrapper which Dylan already did, and if it had an S, it means it’s a super for when your period is heavier, and you’re trying not to bleed through it. ”
“I’m sorry, you can bleed through your tampons?” Nate asks, and I’m wondering what else they don’t know about female anatomy, because they all should have had to pass a health class to graduate high school.
“If you don’t change them so often, yeah,” I say, cracking the lid on the water.
“So basically the lid is the vagina, and you’d insert the applicator.
” I demonstrate, not pushing the plunger in yet, trying to take this seriously, when all I really want to do is laugh at their ridiculousness.
“Once it’s far enough in, you push the plunger, and the tampon is inserted,” I say, watching the cotton expand as a visual.
“Then you take out the applicator, throw it away, and go about your day. Any questions?”
The room is silent as all four of them stare at me, and I purse my lips, trying not to crack.
“I’m sorry, you walk around with that just in you?” Nate asks, and Coop grimaces.
“No wonder Ellie gets so pissed off on her period.”
I scoff, nodding. “And then in addition to having to use these, you’re also constantly checking when you get up from sitting to make sure you didn’t bleed through onto the chair.
Then there are cramps, mood swings, and the hormones that can cause your face to break out.
Some people get them twice a month, and they can last anywhere from three to seven days. It’s straight up, not a good time.”
“How do you get it out?” Dylan asks.
I hold up the string I left hanging out of the bottle, and his face pales. “You pull it out, wrap it in toilet paper, throw it away, and replace it with another.”
“I am so sorry,” Jack says, shaking his head as he stares at the water bottle.
I can’t hold my laughter back anymore, and I double over, laughing until I can’t breathe. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you guys,” I squeak out, gasping for air. “This is amazing.”
“That is horrible,” Dylan asks, taking a long drink of his beer.
“Maybe you should spend more time familiarizing yourselves with female anatomy,” I say, getting up from the floor, still laughing.
How the hell am I supposed to focus on our essays now?