by M. E. Carter
My eyes widen. “There are a lot of boxes.”
“I know. You’re looking for a pink box. It has a giant P on it…”
“Got it!” I grab the box feeling victorious and read it off to her. “Playtex Sport, Regular size, plastic applicator… Babe… are you sure this is what you want?”
“Nicely done,” she praises. “That’s exactly it. Toss that puppy in the cart.”
“Tiff, are these the inside ones or outside ones?”
“What?”
I lower my voice hoping no one around hears me. “Do these go inside you or stay outside on your underwear?”
“Seriously? You’re twenty-four years old. How do you not know which ones these are?”
“Really?” I contend. “You were there. Up until a few weeks ago, there wasn’t a whole lot of vagina talk in my world.”
She laughs again. “Touché. Those are the inside ones.”
This makes me concerned. “Babe. That doesn’t seem safe. To have plastic inside you all day?”
She howls with laugher this time. I can practically hear the tears running down her face.
“I don’t understand what’s funny about me being concerned for your safety.”
“I love you, Rowen,” she says as she tries really hard to pull herself together. “But that’s just the applicator.”
“Yeah, but it goes inside you.”
“It doesn’t stay there.”
“It doesn’t?” I rub my face. “I’m confused.”
“When you get home, I’ll give you tampon 101 and explain it.”
“Okay, I give up.” I throw the box in the cart, giving up the fight. “What am I looking for now?”
“Turn around and look on the opposite side of the aisle.”
Holy. Shit. There are so many boxes. Everything from panty looking diapers to teeny tiny things folded in half.
“Babe.”
I know she hears how overwhelmed I am. “Relax. I know it’s a lot to take in. You’re looking for a green box.”
“Green box. Okay. Looking for a green box.” I start searching the shelves for anything that looks green.
“Inside the green box is a bunch of yellow packages.”
“I have to open up all the green boxes?”
“No, babe. You can see the yellow packages through the plastic window on the box.”
That makes more sense. “Okay. Green box. Yellow packages.”
“It’s called Always Infinity.”
“I’m still looking for a green box. I can’t see what it’s called…” Suddenly, it’s in my hand. A woman, probably in her early forties, pats me on the arm.
“Pretty sure this is what she’s asking you for,” she says with a smile.
“Let me double check. Babe, someone just handed me a box. It’s green, I can see yellow packages inside. It’s called Always Infinity, size… uh… regular? Is that right?”
“That’s exactly it!”
“Thank you!” I tell the woman, as she smiles and begins to walk away.
“You’re welcome. You aren’t the first man I’ve had to help on this aisle, and you won’t be the last.”
Tiffany giggles. “She’s got that right.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s everything on the list, right?”
“What do you have?”
I look back in the cart because, once again, I forgot. I really need to make a list. “Soup, crackers, Sprite, Pepto, my three-pack of on-sale deodorant…”
She snorts a laugh.
“And all your woman things.”
“You did good, Rookie. Are you headed home now?”
The area widens as I turn the cart onto the main aisle. It feels much less claustrophobic now that I’m not packed in with so many other people all looking for the same thing. I need to get out of here. “Yeah. I’ve got a couple hours until I have to get back.”
“How’s it going with Santos?” she asks gently. Santos is a tough topic for Tiffany and me. I think she gives him too much leeway on being a dick. She thinks I don’t give him enough. We could agree to disagree because in different ways, we’re both right. But working with him every day makes it tough to let it go. And working with him every day means I can tell things aren’t getting better with him.
“I don’t know, Tiffany. I kind of feel bad for the guy. He hasn’t said anything or gotten in my face again. But he’s just… off.”
“Well, his whole life is in upheaval.”
“I know. That’s why I didn’t beat his ass that night at poker. You were right, and I’m trying to give him breathing room. And he wants to do drills all the time now, so at least I’m getting extra practice with my corner shot. As long as he’s not taking pot-shots at you, I’m okay with just letting him be. It just kind of sucks.”
“Has he mentioned anything about Mariana or the kids?”
“Nope. He stays really tight-lipped.” I get in the back of a very long check-out line. We’re at least ten deep, but of course it’s the only lane open. “But we don’t really run in the same circle, anyway. I think he’s kind of lost.”
“I wish I could do something for him. As much as he’s a dick to me now, he really was kind to me for a long time.”
I bristle. Tiffany’s sexual history doesn’t really affect me anymore, but every once in a while, it’s still bothersome that I have to see her former sex partners every day. I know we’re married and the past doesn’t really matter. But no man wants to think about their woman being with someone else.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, picking up on my mood change. “I didn’t mean to bring it up.”
“No, babe. Don’t ever feel sorry for feeling bad for someone. Your heart is what I love about you the most.”
“You’re sweet.”
“Sweet enough to get a little action when I get there?” The woman in front of me turns around and glares at me. I shrug and pretend I don’t care, even though I feel my face flaming.
“Maybe,” Tiffany says coyly. “Um… maybe not…” She doesn’t sound so coy anymore. “Oh shit, I gotta go babe. Fuck, I thought this was over…”
She must miss the “end call” button because I hear her take off running and what I assume is the bathroom door slam. I disconnect as the line slowly inches forward and stops.
If I can only get out of here, I’ll be able to get the supplies home to my sick wife.
The pop of a comb on my head jars me awake.
“Ow!” I cry. “What’d you do that for?”
“You keep falling asleep in my chair,” Quincy quips. “Makes it impossible to get this color done right if your head keeps bobbing.”
“Sorry. I don’t know what my problem is,” I admit. “I can’t seem to get enough sleep lately.”
“It’s all those late-night romps with your lover,” Geni sing-songs.
“Geni! You have a client!” Quincy admonishes.
“So?” She holds up her first finger for us to give her a minute. “John,” she says to the client sitting in her chair. “Are you even listening to what I say?”
“Nope.” He doesn’t look up from his phone. “I’ve got three daughters and a wife. I know how to tune you guys out.”
Geni makes an “I told you so” gesture. “Anyway, like I was saying. You’ll probably feel better once you get out of this newlywed phase.”
“Please,” I argue. “I’ve been so sick lately, there has been no newlywed phase.”
“You’re gonna try to convince me you aren’t having sex at least once every night.”
I playfully pretend to avoid the question, looking around the room until she huffs, and I give. “Okay fine. I won’t try to convince you of that.”
“I knew it!” Geni says, as she brushes the cut hairs off John’s shoulders. “I knew you had bags under your eyes for a reason. Come on, John, let’s get you checked out.”
John takes a minute to look at his hair in the mirror before following her to the front desk, untraumatized by our conversation.
“Sorry about her,” Quincy says quietly.
“Quincy, don’t be sorry. Geni and I get along just fine. Who would have thunk, right?”
“You guys have come a long way.” She folds another foil on my head. “How are you feeling anyway?”
“Better, I guess. This stomach bug is the worst, but I have to go back to work today. I’ve been off for too long.”
“Hmm.”
I know better than to think her response doesn’t have more substance behind it than she’s letting on. “What? What is that hmm for?”
“Oh nothing.”
“Quincy…”
“I just…” She hems and haws around the conversation for a few minutes until she finally can’t hold it in anymore. “Okay, I’m just gonna say it. Are you pregnant?”
“What? No.” I shake my head vehemently.
“Tiffany, you can’t stay awake. You’ve had the stomach bug for a week now. When was your last period?”
“It was…” I pause, because I honestly don’t remember. She quirks an eyebrow at me. “Don’t look at me like that. I think it was the week of Thanksgiving.”
“You think?”
“I think because I know I was supposed to have it while Steve was out of town and I took over for him. But I have no recollection because I didn’t take many bathroom breaks while he was gone. I was too busy, so I don’t remember. But I don’t remember not having it either.”
“That means you think you had it?”
“Of course. I have no reason to question it. I had Rowen buy what he calls lady Band-Aids the other day because I had run out.”
She giggles. “Daniel hates it when I send him to buy tampons.”
I smile conspiratorially. “It’s fun, though, isn’t it?”
“What’s fun?” Geni asks, as she plops down in her chair.
“Making the guys buy maxi pads.”
“Erik flat out refuses.” She grabs a magazine off her counter and flips through it. “We actually had our first fight over it. I had to stuff the undies with toilet paper and go buy them myself.”
“Are you serious?” Quincy crinkles her nose in disgust. “I would kill Daniel if he did that to me!”
Geni shrugs. “I was pissed when it happened. But Erik’s quirky. We all know that. The next night he took me out for a steak dinner to make up for it.”
We chat a little more about the guys and baby Chance and the latest team gossip. It’s weird to think that a year or so ago, Quincy and I had a rocky relationship, and Geni and I couldn’t stand each other. I wouldn’t call us besties now or anything. But it’s kind of nice having some female friends that I see outside of soccer. It’s a bonus that they ended up being “couple” friends.
Quincy clears her throat. “So… I have news.”
Geni slams the magazine shut and leans forward. “Do tell. I love it when you have news.”
Quincy shoots her an annoyed look. “Why are you acting like I’m announcing the next Oscar nominees?”
“Because you are making an announcement. You don’t ever clear your throat and say, ‘I have news’ unless it’s really exciting and gossipy. Spill.”
Quincy rolls her eyes and turns to look at me in the mirror. “It’s being announced to the team today. In fact, it probably already was.”
“What was? What was?” Geni bounces in her seat.
“You are a little too excited about this,” I judge.
“Oh, you just wait,” Geni says. “I have known this one for a very long time. I can tell when it’s going to be juicy.” She waves towards Quincy. “Continue.”
“I need to rethink this friendship,” Quincy mumbles, taking another swipe of the brush in the color and bringing it to my head. “Okay, it’s being announced today, but… Nate Funderling’s been traded.”
I gasp.
“No!” Geni cries out, hand over her mouth. “Are you sure?”
“Yep. It’s a done deal.”
“To where?” Geni demands. “Please tell me it’s somewhere terrible.”
“Vancouver, I think? Maybe Montreal. I can’t remember. Somewhere in Canada.”
Geni throws her head back and begins cracking up.
“That is the exact opposite of the weather here,” I say with a smile on my face. “I bet Jessica is pissed.”
There is no love lost between Nate’s wife, Jessica Funderling, and me. She attacked me in the family box during a game last year when she was drunk. It bruised my ego more than anything, but it got her banned from attending events on the team’s dime again. Knowing she’s leaving doesn’t make me upset at all.
“Poor Jessica,” Geni spouts with a sarcastic pout. “No more too-short mini-skirts, halter tops, and strappy sandals for her. Just snow suits and giant hoods over her head.”
“Don’t forget the ski masks and scarves,” I chime in.
“I bet she is shitting her pants right now,” Geni continues.
“Guys,” Quincy cuts in, “just in case it hasn’t been announced yet, don’t say anything. You know Daniel is supposed to keep everything confidential. This just feels way more… personally victorious in some ways.”
“You won’t hear a word from me,” I say.
“Who am I gonna tell?” Geni asks with a shrug. “Erik doesn’t even like sports unless it’s football. He barely knows Daniel’s name, and his son lives with him.”
Quincy titters because it’s true. As nice as Erik is, he just doesn’t get it. His interest in baby Chance seems to be more about his mother’s desire to be a grandmother than him being a father. I don’t see what attracts Geni to him, but hey… no one could figure out what Rowen saw in me, so to each his own, I suppose.
“Done.” Quincy drops her brush back in the bowl and wipes her hands with a towel. “Let’s get you to the dryers. I can’t wait to see what these highlights are going to look like on you.”
I grab my phone and get situated under the dryers. Once I’m settled, Quincy takes off to work on another client while my color processes.
What I’d never admit to her is that she’s not the first to wonder if I’m pregnant. I’ve been thinking about it for a few days now. I know I was supposed to start the week of Thanksgiving, but I can’t remember if I did or not. I had supplies with me, but the only ones still in my bag are squished at the bottom. It’s impossible to tell if they’ve been there for a few weeks or a few months.
I scroll through the overnight sports scores, keeping my mind off the potential problem at hand, when a text comes through. It’s my husband. Just calling him that in my head automatically makes me smile.
Rowen: I have news.
Me: Funderling’s been traded?
Rowen: How did you know?
Me: You forget I have fantastic journalism skills.
Rowen: Journalism skills or a hair appointment with Quincy?
Me: You say that like they’re mutually exclusive.
Rowen: Aren’t they?
Me: … a good journalist never reveals her sources.
Rowen: Understood. I figured you’d like to hear that news.
Me: Can’t say it makes me unhappy. So it’s for sure now? I can actually report this tonight?
Rowen: I guess. Big wigs know better than to tell a bunch of old bitties in the locker room anything they don’t want getting out.
Me: You guys are a bunch of gossip queens. Remind me never to tell you anything in confidence.
Rowen: This is why I keep my mouth shut. I’d much rather know everything than be known by everyone.
Rowen: How are you feeling, anyway?
Scared. But I can’t tell him. Not yet.
Me: Not fantastic, but better. I haven’t thrown up yet today.
Rowen: I really think you should take the day off.
Me: No way. I was off for five days already. We JUST got back from vacation. I can’t afford to take any more time. As long as I don’t have a fever. I’m fine.
Rowen: Fine but be careful. I’ll be waiting for you
when you get home.
Me: I know you will. I love you, babe. Don’t forget to tell the trainers to massage that right calf of yours. You don’t want it cramping up again. Especially while you’re tapping this ass.
Rowen: Yes, ma’am! P.S. I love it when you’re bossy. Love you.
Me: ;) Love you too.
I scroll through more sports stories, getting my brain ready for work. The final score of last night’s Cowboys game reminds me to check the Hart to Heart website.
It pulls up fast and is easy to navigate. Very quickly, I find what I’m looking for—my report from two weeks ago. I can feel how wide I’m smiling, and I don’t care if it looks cheesy. My story, my report, is on Jason Hart’s website. A website that gets millions of clicks every year, and I have a credit at the end of the report.
That story would never have happened if I hadn’t made a deal with Caleb. I’m really proud of myself. This is what I love. It’s what I’m good at. And it paid off in a big way this time.
The dryer suddenly cuts out. “You ready?” Quincy asks as she shuts off the dryer and inspects the color underneath the foils.
I click off the site. “Sure. Let’s go.”
Before I know it, she’s washed my hair, which almost put me to sleep, combed through my hair, which almost put me to sleep, and has started cutting my hair, which has almost put me to sleep.
“Ow!” I cry, the sting of the comb as it slaps my head jarring me again. “Why the hell do you keep doing that?”
“Because you fell asleep again,” Quincy retorts. “I can’t very well cut your hair straight if your head keeps moving.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I didn’t realize I dozed off again.”
“I don’t know how you’re going to stay awake at work tonight.” She grabs her phone and reads a text.
“No one washes my hair and rubs my head at work.”
“True.” She begins typing with her thumbs. “Do you want anything from Jason’s Deli? Geni’s offering. She ran out to get food.”
I scrunch my nose and shake my head. “No way. Just the thought of lunch meat makes me want to throw up again.” Quincy pauses her texting to look up at me. I roll my eyes. “Don’t even say it.”
