“Here,” Marlene grumbled and tossed down a small white box onto my keyboard—while I was still physically typing on it, mind you.
But considering it wasn’t a Tuesday or a lunch she wasn’t responsible for providing, it wasn’t like she was acting abnormally.
I glanced down at the box and read the words, “Goddess Cup” aloud.
It was a menstrual cup that had recently been released to the market, and I only knew that because of my job. I hadn’t ever been a menstrual cup user or advocate—which made me wonder what kind of horrible reason prompted her to give it to me in the first place. “Why are you giving me this?”
“You need to test it,” she said but didn’t offer any other explanation.
God. I just knew the reason for her unplanned air delivery wasn’t going to be a good one.
“Test it?”
She nodded and plopped her ass down into her designated chair. “Yeah. Test. It.”
What in the fuck is happening?
“This is a menstrual cup, Mar. Why would I have to test it?”
Three huffs of irritation left her lips one right after the other. Apparently, she was the one put out here. “Because I don’t have a uterus, and you do. Plus, you’re on your period this week,” she explained as if that would aid in clearing up my confusion.
Why in the hell does she know I’m on my period? Am I dreaming right now?
I closed my eyes tightly for a good ten seconds to scroll through all of the reasons that even justifiable homicide would land me in prison, and then, when I finally had myself talked out of the cardinal sin, I opened them again.
One thing at a time.
“Okay… First of all, how do you know I’m on my period?”
“Because you’re moody, and you’re eating M&Ms like candy.”
“M&Ms are candy,” I retorted, and she sighed in annoyance.
And I wasn’t eating that many M&Ms. Like a bag a day. A small bag. Well, not a supersmall bag, but like a medium-sized bag. Okay, fine. I was eating a lot of M&Ms, but Jesus Christ, I was on my period, and I had to work with Marlene and Melissa on a daily basis. If anything, they should’ve been thanking me. The M&Ms were probably the real reason I hadn’t strangled one of them to death. Fuck ten-second pep talks about being someone’s bitch in prison—candy was the game changer.
“You know what I mean,” she added with a roll of her eyes. “Plus, I saw you put your giant box of tampons in the bathroom.”
Holy hell. Was this old broad spying on me in the bathroom? Panicked, I looked around like I’d find cameras at reception, too.
“That’s creepy, Mar.”
She stared back at me unfazed. “The fact that you’d need that many tampons for one cycle is creepy.”
“I buy in bulk,” I explained for some unknown reason. “Doesn’t mean I use all of them in a month’s time.”
“Anyway…” She completely ignored me. “We promised the manufacturer that some of our staff would try their new Goddess Cup and give feedback.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to use a fucking menstrual cup.” I refused, what I thought under the circumstances was politely, and slid the box back in her direction. “I’ll stick with my giant box of tampons, thank you very much. And for the love of God, stop spying on me in the bathroom.”
“Whatever you say,” she muttered. “I mean…you’d get an extra five hundred bucks in your paycheck for it, but I’ll let Betty know you’re a no-go.”
Wait… What? Five hundred bucks?
I slid the box back toward myself. “And how many days do I have to test it?”
Sure, menstrual cups made me want to gag, but five hundred dollars seemed like a nice addition to my get the heck out of my parents’ apartment fund. I’d been saving like a penny pincher, and I was getting pretty damn close to reaching the little nest egg of savings that would get me out of Jazzercise purgatory.
“The contract with the manufacturer states you have to test it for at least twenty-four hours.”
I looked down at the box and back up at Mar. The idea of testing the Goddess Cup wasn’t exactly number one on my bucket list—more like my fuck-it list—but it was just for one day… How bad could it be?
“If I still had a uterus, you can bet your bony ass I’d be shoving those menstrual cups up my cooter for five hundred bucks without a second thought,” she stated without an ounce of shame. “Hell, if they paid per cup, I’d stick more than one of those suckers in.”
I fought the urge to projectile vomit across the nursing office. I, personally, didn’t want to think of any situation where Marlene’s cooter was involved. The fact that she called it a cooter was bad enough.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I agreed. “Is there anything I need to do before I try one? Some kind of disclaimer to read? A contract to sign?”
“Just shoot Betty an email that you’re going to do it, and then she’ll have you fill out a questionnaire once you’ve completed the test trial.”
“Okay.” I shrugged and stood up from my chair with the box in my hand. “Sounds easy enough.”
I glanced at my watch and noted the time as I headed for the employee bathroom. It was half past ten, which meant I only needed to get through the rest of the day and part of the morning tomorrow to be done with the official Goddess Cup test.
That didn’t sound too difficult. Hell, I’d be free of it before lunch tomorrow.
Thankfully, the employee bathroom was a private one-stall kind of deal, so I locked the door, got myself ready for the menstrual cup insert, and opened the box without feeling like anyone in the office was lurking around.
The instructions showed numerous pictures of the drawn female figure standing up with her legs spread as wide as they could go. I cringed.
“Good Christ in a ballet,” I muttered, wishing for perhaps the first time in my life I had the flexibility of Misty Copeland. Maybe an Olympic gymnast…someone other than me.
I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be as easy as the standard seated-on-toilet application of a tampon, so I made myself really comfortable by removing my shoes, scrub pants, and underwear and turning myself into a human frog.
Okay, I can do this.
The first attempt, well, it didn’t go so well. The damn thing flipped out of my hands before I could even insert it and bounced on the floor. Eyes wide, I took it to the sink and scrubbed it down and got set to try again. The second attempt was just a repeat of the first.
Jesus Christ, this thing was more complicated than a NASA spaceship manual.
How in the hell do women get this thing inside?
After three more attempts with all of the same results, I resorted to pulling my phone out of my scrub pants and tapping on the YouTube app. Yeah, I, Melody Marco, nurse of obstetrics and gynecology, was YouTubing “how to insert a menstrual cup.” I was a disgrace to my profession. But my hands were getting dry from washing the goddamn thing so many times, and eventually, they were going to start to miss me out there doing my actual job.
Five minutes’ worth of a tutorial later, I thought I was ready. Videos always make understanding things easier. It also helped with my mental readiness that Renee, the chick on the video, appeared quite fucking peppy and enthusiastic about her menstrual cup. If Renee loved her feminine oil filter so much, maybe I would too.
So, using Renee’s endorsement of “Everyone needs to switch to these! They make life so much easier!” for motivation, I grabbed the Goddess Cup and spread my legs like I was riding a horse.
You better not be fucking with me about this, Renee. More importantly, Marlene better not be fucking with me about the five hundred dollars. Christ, why hadn’t I considered that until now?
I made a quick mental note to call Betty when I wasn’t practically spread-eagled and shoving a menstrual cup up my vagina.
Luckily, things were going smoothly. Slowly, but surely, I had the Goddess Cup inside, and my fingers were easing it into the “settled” position.
Unfortunately, like a flip of a switch, things got real fucking ugly.
The cup slipped from my fingers a little and bam!
It popped open.
I mean, it popped the fuck open, before I’d gotten it settled.
Stars literally danced behind my eyes. Those little bastards were hand in hand doing the fucking mamba while an endless stream of curse words flew out of my mouth.
“Motherfuckinggoddammithelpme!”
Pain. Red-hot pain inside of my body. I feared I’d just killed my vagina for a measly five hundred bucks and I was never going to be able to have sex again.
What in the hell were they thinking when they made this?
I was half convinced the manufacturer was trying to kill women. Obviously, they weren’t, but holy cannoli, it was bad.
Seriously, if you think childbirth is painful, trying having a menstrual cup pop open inside of you before you get it settled.
Actually, don’t try it.
Just. Don’t.
Fucking Renee and her peppy attitude about her menstrual cup. Renee was a goddamn liar!
God, I had to find a way either to get this thing out or to get it to fucking settle. Whatever the hell that meant.
I stared down at my vagina with concern. “I’m so sorry I did that to you.”
She didn’t respond—after all, she was a few gasping breaths away from death—and I knew I had to woman up and get us out of this situation fast.
With my eyes closed shut, I reached my fingers back inside and nudged on the cup a little. Thank God, it moved with ease, and eventually, it found its way to the settled position.
How did I know it was in the right position?
Well, I no longer felt like a tiny elf had crawled inside of my vagina and was trying to physically remove it from my body.
Note to self: Never agree to test anything. Not even if they are offering you a million dollars. Don’t do it.
Once I got my clothes back on and washed my hands, I glanced down at the time on my phone and saw that it was now half past 11.
One hour.
A motherfucking hour?
Dear God. It had taken me a whole hour to put that goddamn menstrual cup in. How did women do it on a daily basis?
I had a hard enough time with tardiness at work as it was. If I used this stupid cup all the time, I’d probably have to just call off for an entire week. “Oh, hey, Will, it’s me. I won’t be in to work today. Well, actually, all week. I’ll be too busy inserting my menstrual cup.”
As I walked—well, hobbled—out of the bathroom, I set my focus on patient care. Lord knew, I didn’t even want to think about the fact that I was going to have to remove the menstrual cup at some point in the day.
Help. Me.
Luckily, after my hour-long bathroom break, the day had run smoothly. My vagina stopped hurting. Patients were on time. Will was in a good mood. Marlene wasn’t grumbling too much. And Melissa managed to do more than five minutes’ worth of work at reception.
This office of medical misfits was running like a well-oiled machine.
I peeked into Will’s office and found him with the phone pressed to his ear. “Your two o’clock is here,” I mouthed.
He covered the receiver with his hand. “I’m almost finished with this call.”
“I’ll bring the patient back, then, and get her ready. We’ll be in room eight.”
Will nodded, and I headed toward reception with the patient’s chart in my hand.
“Mable?” I asked toward the waiting room, and a petite, white-haired lady stood from her seat.
“That’s me.”
I smiled and helped her through the door and into the exam room.
“How are you feeling today, Mable?” I asked as I took her blood pressure.
“I can’t complain,” she said with a cute little grin.
“I’m glad to hear that. Is there anything important you would like to discuss with Dr. Cummings today?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Just here for my yearly exam.”
“Okay,” I responded as I finished up her assessment. “Everything looks and sounds good. Go ahead and get undressed and put on the paper gown. Dr. Cummings will be in in just a few minutes.”
I left Mable to change in privacy and walked toward one of the computer alcoves to chart her assessment, but when I tried to fire up the screen by clicking the mouse, nothing happened. Impatient, I tapped on a few keys. Still, nothing.
It was moments like this when you realized technology could be a real pain in the ass.
Knowing that the computer was most likely turned off or unplugged, I squatted toward the floor and started scanning the wires and monitor for an answer. The instant my fingers touched the top of the monitor, dust bunnies scattered through the air
Housekeeping had obviously missed a few corners.
I waved the dust out of the air and tried to set my focus on getting the computer to work, but the dust had officially reached my nose. It tingled and itched until, spontaneously, a sneeze left my nose before I could find a way to stop it.
And then, like a goddamn fountain, a rush of warmth slid down my legs.
Oh, God…
I glanced down at my pants, and my jaw dropped in utter mortification when all I could see was red. Dark, red stains covered my crotch, my thighs, and God only knew what else. At some point during the sneeze, the Goddess Cup had left the building, and as a result, the Red Sea had officially fucking parted.
Oh, fucking shit monkeys.
My eyes darted back and forth around the hallway for witnesses. When I noted that no one was near, I hopped out of my squatting position and sprinted toward the employee bathroom. Once the door was locked, I took a deep, controlled breath and stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection.
Jesus Christ on a baseball team, I looked like I’d been shot. My scrub pants were covered in period blood to the point of no return. Stain pens would weep at the sight of me. A gentle hand-wash of the affected area would mean taking the entirety of my pants and dunking them in a bucket of water.
There was no fixing this situation without a shower and new clothes.
Panicked, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted the first person that came to mind.
Me: There’s been a murder. Help me. I need help.
Not even thirty seconds later, my phone chirped with a response.
Will: WHAT? WHERE ARE YOU?
I immediately realized my mistake.
Me: Calm down. Not a real murder. But I do need help. I’m in the bathroom.
Will: Are you sick?
Me: No… I’m…well…I just need help in the form of new clothes.
Ah, shit. I had forgotten all about little Mable sitting in the exam room.
Me: And you should probably have another nurse go in and check on Mable in room eight.
Will: Okay. I’ll be right there.
It only took fifteen rounds of pacing the bathroom before three soft knocks rapped against the door. “Mel, it’s me,” Will whispered.
I pressed my ear to the door. “Is anyone close by?”
“Nope.”
“Are you sure?”
He sighed. “I’m sure. Just open the door, baby.”
I pulled open the door enough to meet his eyes, and he searched my face with concern.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I just need those clothes,” I added and nodded toward the scrubs in his hands.
He didn’t hand them over, though. “Mel, you’re scaring me a little. Can I come in and make sure you’re all right?”
“I don’t think you want to do that.”
His expression turned serious. “Trust me. I do.”
Christ. Am I okay with him seeing me like this? I did another short circuit of his concerned blue eyes and realized that I was. Or, rather, I didn’t mind if he saw me like this. There was a really fucking short list of people whom I trusted this much, and he was the only name on it.
Still… “Remember that I warned you.”
“Just let me in.”
“Fine,” I huffed and slid the door open enough for him to sneak inside.
The second we were securely locked in the bathroom, he scanned the room with anxiety in his eyes until he spotted my pants. And instantly, the anxiety fled and surprise took its place, widening his eyes.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” I muttered. “Marlene convinced me to test the Goddess Cup today, and well, let’s just say, things didn’t go so well.”
His lips crested into a smile, and I pointed an accusing finger in his direction.
“Do not laugh.”
Will raised both hands in the air. “I swear. I’m not laughing.”
“Ugh,” I groaned in frustration. “I’m not even sure how the fuck to get out of these scrubs without it looking like someone was murdered in here.”
A soft chuckle escaped his lips, and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.
“Stop it,” I said through a few quiet giggles, and he grinned wide.
“Can I help you?” he asked with sincerity in his eyes.
“Uh…you want to help me take off my menstrual-blood-soaked pants and see the crime scene left behind?”
“No,” he corrected. “I want to help my girlfriend who seems like she’s having a rough fucking day.”
“You’re not grossed out by this?”
“Seriously, Mel?” He flashed a pointed look. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a bleeding vagina.”
I guessed he had a point. Will’s job basically revolved around bleeding vaginas.
“Uh…okay…yeah…” I found myself agreeing, and he didn’t give me any time to change my mind.
Will moved toward me, squatted to his knees, and started untying the strings of my scrub pants. “I’m sorry you’ve had a shit day,” he said and looked up at me from beneath his long, dark lashes.
Man, he’s handsome.
“Me too,” I muttered, running a hand through his perfect hair. As I watched him gently remove my stained clothes, I started to think this day wasn’t so bad after all.
I’ve got one of the good ones.
“Mind if I help make it better tonight?”
I quirked a curious brow. “What’d you have in mind?”
“Stay at my place tonight, and you’ll find out,” he said with a soft smile. “But I promise, it will most likely revolve around pizza, ice cream, and a movie of your choice.”
I smiled and nodded, teasing, “Aw, that sounds amazing.” I shook my head dramatically. “And to think, all I got you was a bloody pair of scrubs.”
Will flashed that perfect smile of his in my direction, and within the blink of an eye, the day wasn’t seeming so bad after all.