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The Only Medicine

19. It’s easy like a fifty foot fall

Sunday morning comes, and with it, my period. What a time to be alive. And then when I go to the bathroom, I realise I’m down to my last tampon. I’m envious of Mama, who had a hysterectomy years ago and doesn’t have to deal with this bullshit.

“Mama!” I call.

“What’s wrong, mija?” she says through the door.

“Can you pick me up some more tampons?”

“I don’t have time, sorry mija. I’ll leave you some money on the counter and you can grab some on your way to Victor’s.”

Awkward. I’m pretty sure Vic’s supposed to be picking me up, and he won’t mind stopping off at the supermarket, and he doesn’t care if I talk about my period, but what if it’s Mike? Awkward, awkward, awkward. Actually—fuck him. No way I’m being embarrassed over something my body naturally does.

I’m just drying my hair (and trying to drag a comb through, which is a fruitless effort) after my shower when I notice a text on my phone. It’s from Vic.

“so fucking hungover”, it simply reads.

“poor baby. :( hope you’ll be ok for practice.” I text back.

“ill come get u in 20”

I try to wriggle into a pair of grey stonewash skinny jeans, but my stomach is too bloated and I look like a sad mushroom. Oh well; Vic and Mike don’t expect me to dress up for band practice—not that my everyday style would be considered dressed-to-the-nines. I throw the jeans into a corner and pull on a pair of grey sweatpants, an Every Time I Die t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and a big black hoodie.

A horn blares outside, which I presume means Vic’s here. I grab my bass case from beside the bed and head out. I frown at him sitting rigid behind the steering wheel, then remember Mike and me breaking the chair mechanism. He looks so funny sitting like that; I stifle a giggle and feign innocence.

“What happened?” I laugh as I hop into the passenger seat.

“Mike’s fat ass broke the chair,” Vic mumbles. A horrified look dawns upon him. “He and Jessica fucked here. They fucked here and ruined my seat.”

I scrunch my nose up. “Ew. Don’t tell me that.” Phew.

He sighs and reverses out the driveway. We sit in silence for a bit, just listening to the radio. I steal glances at him when he’s watching the road. His eyes are still a little bit bloodshot with dark bags. I want to ask him how he’s feeling, but I don’t want to set him off again.

“Can we stop by the supermarket?” I ask instead.

He nods and switches lanes. My eyes linger on his hands on the steering wheel. When Cara and Vic broke up originally, he turned to the razor and I used to find lines across his wrists, thighs—anywhere that made the pain stop. His wrists are currently covered by the sleeves of his hoodie, but I want to check to make sure he hasn’t done anything. Perhaps I should have told Mike to keep an eye on him. I reach over and he takes my hand gratefully and holds it for the rest of the drive.


I head straight to the sanitary products aisle when we arrive at the supermarket and prowl back and forth, looking for the right size tampons.

“Oh,” Vic says. “Is it that time?”

“Yeah. And I gotta stock up.” I gesture to my private parts. “It’s like Johnny Depp’s death scene in A Nightmare on Elm Street down there.”

He guffaws at that. “Sick, dude. I don’t need to know that.”

I poke my tongue out at him. “Try living it.”

He comes up behind me and loops his arms through mine and rests his chin on my shoulder. “We could just snuggle and watch movies, if you want?”

“Are you suggesting that for my benefit or yours?”

“Both,” he laughs, stepping away.

“Naw, we better do some practice at least. Round two’s coming up soon and we shouldn’t play the same set.” I snatch a box off the shelf. “Did your mom buy bananas?”

Vic shrugs. “I dunno. Probably.”

“Did she get Oreos?”

“I dunno. I haven’t even looked at food today.”

“I’m gonna buy them just in case.”

“Banana split?”

I nod. Every time I’m on my period, a banana split with Oreos and soy ice cream is the only thing that makes me feel better. “It cures cramps, dude.” I wince as one comes on. “That and ibuprofen.”


When we get back to Vic’s house, we find Mike in the lounge with his feet up on the coffee table, watching B-grade horror movies.

“Oh, hey,” he says over his shoulder. He’s wearing a tank with loose armholes and sweatpants. It’s obviously Sweatpant Sunday for everyone. He reaches to turn the TV off, but Vic interrupts him.

“Mia’s just gonna make something to eat, then we can go practice,” he says, taking the grocery bag off me and putting it on the bench.

“What are we having?” Mike asks.

“Vegan banana splits. Except I’m gonna have mine with the ice cream Mom bought yesterday,” Vic replies, digging in the freezer for the regular ice cream.

Mike swings his legs off the coffee table and gets up from the couch. “Fuck yeah, I’m all about ice cream in the morning.”

“Well, it’s almost lunch time,” I point out.

“Like that matters,” Vic adds.

We make up our ice cream sundaes and take the bowls down to the garage. Vic balances his on the edge of the couch, then turns to leave.

“No one eat my ice cream while I’m peeing,” he warns.

Mike and I look at each other mischievously.

“I mean it.”

As soon as he leaves the room, Mike grabs the bowl and hides it behind his drum kit. I giggle, and then a cramp hits me and it turns into a moan of pain.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Mike looks at me in concern.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” I swallow. “Just cramps.” I look up and spot a bottle of water sitting on the bookshelf opposite me. “Chuck us that bottle of water?”

Mike grabs it and hands it to me. I unscrew the cap and take a swig, along with a couple of the ibuprofen I just bought. He watches me carefully.

“Stop staring at me.” I flick the cap at him.

“Are they that bad?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t usually have to take pills for muscle cramps.”

I almost spit my mouthful of water. “Not those cramps, idiot.”

His eyes widen when he realises what I mean. “Oh. Ohhh. Sorry,” he says awkwardly. “I thought you … you know … meant just regular cramps.”

“Dude, the words ‘just’ and ‘cramps’ do not belong in a sentence together.”

Vic comes back in and looks from one of us to the other. “You guys okay?”

Mike scrunches up his nose. “Mia’s telling me about her girl time problems.”

“What the fuck, no I’m not!” I say incredulously. I look up at Vic. “He’s the one that didn’t click when I said I had cramps.”

Vic sits down next to me on the couch, laughing, and then his laugh peters off when he spots the thing that’s missing. “Wait, where’s my fucking ice cream?”


We manage to write the start of one new song during our practice, as well as covering the other ones we plan to play at the next round of Battle of the Bands. Soon enough, it’s almost six o’clock, and I know Mama is expecting me home for dinner.

I stand up and stretch. “Do one of you guys wanna drop me home?”

Mike gets up from behind the drum kit. “I can. I’ve gotta … grab some stuff.”

Vic frowns at him, catching the gist of what he’s saying. “Don’t take Mia to your seedy drug dealer’s house.”

“How do you know I’m not just getting regular cigarettes?” Mike retorts. “And maybe I was going to take her home first.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s fine. I’m eighteen, not eight.”

“Yeah, Mia knows what drugs look like,” Mike replies.

“Whatever, man. Just as long as Mom and Dad don’t find out what you’re doing,” Vic sighs.

Mike goes upstairs to grab the keys. I pick up my bass case, then hug Vic goodbye. He feels sad beneath my arms; I don’t quite know how to describe it. He’s been peppy all day, despite his hangover, but I know that it’s forced. I need to spend some time alone with him.

“Hey … do you wanna hang out on Friday night? Like, just the two of us?” I ask. “We could just sit and drink in your room like we used to?”

“I’d like that.” He kisses my cheek. “Have a good week. Make good choices. Look both ways when you cross the street.”

I smirk. “Bye, boo boo.”

Mike’s in the hallway waiting, and we walk out to the car in silence. I pop my bass in the backseat, then hop into the passenger side.

“Did Vic say anything to you about the seat?” Mike asks, reaching for his seat belt.

“Uh, yeah. He thinks you and Jessica did it,” I reply.

“Close enough.” He tucks a cigarette into the corner of his mouth while he pulls out of the driveway.

“So, um …” I start to ask about Jessica, but I chicken out.

“Can you light this for me?” He asks, handing me his lighter.

“What, while it’s in your mouth?” He just waggles his eyebrows in agreement, so I try to hold my hand steady and flick the lighter. It fails a couple of times, then sparks into a flame, and I manage to successfully light the cigarette.

“Yuss, ride or die bitch. Thanks,” he says, taking a drag and winding down the window. “What were you saying?”

I wrinkle my nose as the smoke blows into my face. “Um … I was going to ask where we’re going,” I lie.

“Just gotta stock up. You wanna come with, or should I drop you home first?” He glances over at me, smirking. “They say a good toke takes the edge off.”

“Oh yeah, and how would you know that?”

He just shrugs. “That’s just what some girls say.”

“I’ll come, but I’ll stay in the car, and I’m not smoking anything. My mom’s expecting me home soon.”

“Your choice,” he says. Mike parks outside a set of apartments, which I presume is where his dealer lives. “I’ll be back soon.” He leaves the car running and gets out.

I zip my hoodie all the way up and tuck my hands into the pockets, then let out a sigh. Did I make everything that happened up, or what? Yesterday Mike couldn’t keep his hands off me, and today it’s almost like we’re friends again, like before we slept together. I don’t know if I’m bothered by it or not; it’s just weird. Perhaps he’s just keeping his distance because he knows I’m on my period. Or maybe he’s lost interest, a small voice in my head pipes up, but I quash that before it grows.

I see Mike coming out of one of the apartments about five minutes later, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“Did you get the package?” I joke as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

He just gives me a small smile and pulls a baggie partially out of one of the pockets. It looks like a lot, but then I don’t really know what is considered a lot and what is considered minimal. He doesn’t roll a joint, though, just pulls the car back onto the road and starts driving toward my house.

We just listen to the radio without talking. It feels like a comfortable quiet, though. Mike taps along to the song, which is some kind of hip hop tune, and raps under his breath. Soon enough we’re outside my house and I don’t really want to leave; things feel unresolved but I can’t put into words why.

“See you tomorrow?” I say hopefully, reaching for my bass case in the back.

He just nods. “Hope you’re feeling better soon.”

I clamber out and he drives off, giving the horn a couple of sharp toots. Hope you’re feeling better soon. The cramps have subsided, but I still have an ache in my gut.

Notes

Comments

love the new chapter plz update soon

Finally an update

Omg, an update ❤

pierce-my-soul pierce-my-soul
2/20/16

I think mike and Mia should date and Vic know about it

@inherit the crown
Can she end up with Tony

freedom_writer freedom_writer
5/22/15