4. My Periods Hate Me
My Periods Hate Me
Bree
T he incessant beep of my alarm makes me irrationally angry, and I grab my phone from the nightstand with way more force than is necessary.
I’m generally pretty good in the morning, but once a month, not so much.
My periods hate me. They have hated me since I first got them. Zoe is the same, but she is still nursing, so she hasn’t had one in a year, and before that, she had Leo to hand her chocolate and tell her to go and lie down. I, on the other hand, am waking up alone, and I have to go to work.
‘Ughh.’ I grunt as I heft myself out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. I am not in a good mood today. Maybe it’s a blessing I don’t have a man—time-of-the-month-Bree would probably scare him off anyway.
I’m thirty-six, and I have no idea what it is like to be with the same person for any real period of time. I started having sex at sixteen and was happily all about casual hookups. I thought I found something more serious once, but it was a blip, and I got right back to casual from nineteen until I turned thirty-three. I have no idea why thirty-three was the magic number, but about a week after our birthday, I realized I wanted more. I wanted someone .
I love my job. I do. I worked my tush off to set up the department here in town, arrange funding, and hire my deputy, Jenna, miraculously another woman from Forest Falls who shared my dream of being a cop. I guess sometimes I feel a bit resentful that I worked so hard for this dream, only for it to feel like Groundhog Day.
If I’m honest with myself, I’m bored.
I went away to college, then the academy, and I had these big dreams of making it in the city, becoming a detective, and making a real difference. Then I came home, and everyone in town kept coming over to me, excited that Forest Falls was finally getting its own department. They assumed I’d become a cop to be their cop, and I just couldn’t let them down. So, I stayed. I figured it out, and now I’m here, Police Chief, without a damn thing to do. There’s no crime here, not really. This town is straight out of a Disney movie. It’s pretty perfect… unless you’re in the business of catching criminals.
In some ways, I love that I get to live and work in the town I grew up in, but in others, it’s frustrating. I mean… I’m living and working in the tiny, quaint, polite, law-abiding town I grew up in.
Jenna and I spend most of our days walking around, talking to the townsfolk, and watching TikTok videos of cats afraid of cucumbers.
I pee and then put in the moon cup that Cara has us all using these days. I swear to God, if I’d known how much of a hippy that woman would become once she got her own vegetable patch, I might have rethought our friendship. I chuckle to myself. I would not. I love that crazy Scot and the moon cup is surprisingly efficient.
After washing my hands, I brush my teeth before grabbing a makeup wipe and swiping it over my skin. Missy would have a fit, but the four hundred and twenty-seven skincare products she keeps insisting I need are way too much effort this morning.
I brush my hair, scraping it back into a low ponytail before twisting it up into a neat bun and securing it with a scrunchie—less breakage, apparently —then I remind myself that I really cannot go another day without washing it. You know when you think you can do one more? I can’t. Dry shampoo has no hope in hell of making this presentable tomorrow.
Staring at myself for a moment in the bathroom mirror, I consider my appearance. Since the coffee date with the bitches of Eastwick last week, I’ve been doing this a lot.
I am not a self-conscious woman. I’m pretty. I know that I am. Conventionally pretty, not sexy, not stunning, not breathtaking. Not anything like Zoe, who turns heads everywhere with her petite frame, ever-changing hair color, and tattoo-covered pale skin. Not anything like Cara, with her big Bambi eyes and fantastic yoga-earned ass. Not a damn thing like Missy, with lips you could curl up and sleep on and curves you could climb. I’m just pretty. I have long brown hair and the same caramel eyes as my twin. I have bigger boobs than her, and ironically, I got the hips that older ladies call perfect for ‘childbearing’. My skin holds a tan that hers doesn’t. We look alike, but we’re not identical. She got the sex appeal and the softness. I got the hard edges and my dad’s attitude.
A little masculine , that’s how one date described me. He told me if I wanted to look good in a wedding dress, I should lay off the gym. I’m strong. I lift weights. I run. I stay in shape, and sure, my body is defined rather than soft but masculine?
I sweep some mascara up my lashes and dot some cream blush onto my cheeks, and that’s me, grumpier than usual but the same face, the same hair, the same practical look as always.
Dressing in my uniform before taking a moment to check my full appearance, I finally make my way downstairs. I grab the white chocolate and raspberry cookie I bought yesterday to eat for a pre-breakfast snack, then pick up my keys and head out. I’m meeting Missy at the diner before work, and honestly, I’m not really in the mood for company, but I promised.
It’s a short walk to the diner, and the station is just around the corner from there, but instead of using the legs God gave me, I climb into my car and drive. Lazy, I know, but my tummy hurts.
‘Hey, good morning.’ Missy smiles brightly as I drop into the booth opposite her in the diner.
‘Hey.’
‘Oh, not good morning?’
‘Sorry,’ I smile softly, ‘I have my period, and I am just over it. Like, if God created me, he’s also responsible for me not wanting kids, so he really didn’t need to make me suffer through periods like this month after month. Oh, hey, Merv.’
I smile weakly up at the diner owner, my mom’s fiancé, and he shakes his head and grips my shoulder affectionately. He’s used to Zoe and me being very open about our bodies and our sex lives, so I’m not embarrassed that he showed up at the table as I was talking about my menstruation.
‘Pancakes or waffles?’ he asks with a soft, knowing smile. Usually, I would have eggs, just eggs, to keep my sugar intake low, but Merv was adopted by three Campbell women when he started dating my mom, five if you count my grandma and Bowie, and he gets us.
‘Waffles, please.’ I smile, grateful for him, before Missy orders the usual, her favorite breakfast burrito, and Merv heads back to the kitchen.
‘I can’t say I’ll miss them,’ Missy says when we find ourselves alone once more, and I furrow my brow in confusion. ‘Periods, I’m not going to miss them.’
‘What, are you…’ I gasp, then notice her smile spread, and tears cause her eyes to glisten. ‘Oh my god, Miss.’ I reach for her hands across the table, and she gives them, leaning in toward me, so I do the same.
‘Nobody knows. Nick does, obviously, but nobody else. I want to wait until Cara has the baby before we share.’
‘You’re having a baby,’ I whisper excitedly, and she wiggles in her seat.
‘I can’t believe it.’
‘You deserve this, Miss. Nick too.’ I squeeze her hands, smiling as both of our cell phones vibrate on the table at the same time, and our eyes meet before we both pick them up and open the message in our group chat: The Coven.
Cara: Contractions hurt like a bitch!
My lips part, and I meet Missy’s matching expression for a second before we both smile widely. She’s having the baby.
‘Merv,’ I call out, ‘can we get those to go?’
S he’s perfect.
Staring down at the tiny little girl in my arms, I fight the lump in my throat. Lottie, my niece, came into the world at home, as her mama planned, in the house Cara’s family has owned for generations, with my baby brother, her doting daddy, right there to welcome her.
‘Quit hogging her,’ Zoe whines, and I pull away.
‘You have your own.’ Doug laughs but takes Lottie from my arms and hands her back to her mama.
‘Sorry,’ Cara smiles shyly, and I grin. She needs her baby. I get it.
‘I’ll make some drinks.’ Smiling, I stand as I walk into the kitchen just as Missy, Nick, and Jonah arrive, so I pull down a couple of extra cups.
Looking up, I watch all the completed families congregating in the living room, which I can see thanks to the huge open archways of the old Reynolds’ farmhouse.
Mama and Merv sit with Bowie next to Cara and Lottie. Doug stands next to Leo behind the armchair where Zoe sits with Lucas. Bowie moves to sit on the floor with Missy’s son, Jonah, as Missy and Nick take the other sofa. All of them smiling, laughing. Happy. Complete.
Sadness overwhelms me during this moment that should be nothing but happy.
Why am I alone? I’m a good person, but I’m alone. I go to bed alone, and I wake up alone. I spent years having meaningless sex because after having my heart broken once, I wasn’t ready for a serious connection again, but I’m ready now, and it’s not there.
I busy myself making the drinks, fighting the loneliness that threatens to swallow me whole. I shouldn’t be lonely. I have this big, beautiful family to love, to be loved by—but it’s not enough.
‘You okay, sweetie?’ I look up to find my mom joining me behind the counter, wordlessly moving to help me with the drinks.
‘Yeah, I’m okay.’
She stills, looking up at the scene that’s held me captive, then down at the ring on her finger.
‘He would have loved this,’ she says so softly that it squeezes my throat. ‘He’d have hoped to see you happy and settled, too, of course, but this, our family. He would have loved this so much.’
Daddy. God, I miss him. He’s been gone the same amount of time that I had him for and it doesn’t get any easier. He wasn’t much older than I am now when he died. If I spend any time thinking about it, I’m sure that’s why my clock is ticking louder. He was twenty-one when he decided he wanted to marry Mama, and he had nineteen years with her. Nineteen years of love and happiness. Of waking up together and building a life together. I saw him die too young. I saw Zoe’s first husband, Luke, die even younger, and it’s not enough. They didn’t get enough time. I’m getting older, and while my prime baby-making years are not a factor for me, I want a life with someone. I don’t want to meet someone when I don’t have a lot of life left to live.
‘Bree?’ Mama’s soft, questioning tone as she takes my hand on the countertop makes me swallow the lump in my throat.
‘I miss him,’ I admit, masking all the other shit that was going through my mind.
‘Me too, honey.’ She squeezes my hand before pulling out two trays and loading up the drinks. ‘Come on.’
‘H ey, boss,’ Jenna calls out as she walks into my tiny office at the end of my shift.
‘Hey, Jen. You good?’ She sits in the chair opposite me, a shit-eating grin on her face. ‘Oh my god, you asked her.’
Jenna started dating Kacey a few months after she started working at Missy’s salon. Kacey being out as a lesbian unnerved Jenna at first because she was drawn to her in ways that didn’t make sense to my friend. It awakened feelings in her she’d pushed aside for so long. One tipsy dance at the bar led to a kiss that led to them becoming close and serious, fast.
‘I did. She said yes.’
‘Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you.’ I stand to hug my friend and colleague. Jenna moved into Nick’s place when he moved in with Missy, and she just asked Kacey to officially move in with her.
‘I can’t believe I have a girlfriend, Bree.’ She laughs. ‘All those jock idiots I dated in high school, and now I’m in love with a girl, a really pretty, girly girl.’
‘Don’t you let Kace hear you calling her a girl. She’s a whole-ass woman, and don’t you forget it.’ I smirk as I reach for my jacket and get ready to head home. Jenna smiles widely.
‘Yeah, you are right about that.’
Walking back from the station, I feel so happy for Jenna and Kacey. I can’t keep the smile from my face as I cross the front of the diner, I raise my hand to wave at Merv through the window as he clears some tables. I pass the bar, then the salon, happily walking the streets I've known my whole life. I love this town and the people in it, and the contentment I feel here is tangible.
My cell phone vibrates in my pocket, and still smiling softly, I pull it out as I walk. I unlock it without paying attention to the screen, then my eyes fix on the message, and I stop, freezing in the middle of the street.
Unknown: I Missed you, princess x
No . Not again. I can’t go through this again.