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Prescription Strength (2/8)

[(Anonymous)]

She hadn’t been due for nearly another week, but it wasn’t like it was that much of a surprise. She supposed she ought to count herself lucky it hadn’t hit while her biomom had actually been in town, before flying off to California or Chicago or wherever she was now. And when it had been a shitty week even before she’d shown up.
Though when she felt the pain start up, she still initially hoped it had been that mystery meat they’d served for lunch. It was the beginning of class, it was the kind of professor you did not want to interrupt for a bathroom break, and she didn’t even have a pad on her anyway, or her pills. Plus she had another class immediately after this one, and her dorm room was all the way on the other side of campus, while her next class was only a building away. Not a run she was up to making if her cramps got as bad as she was now dreading.
But fifteen minutes in, she could feel too much liquid gushing out of her-not as much as would be coming out in a few hours, but enough that it was a good thing she was wearing darker jeans, and she wasn’t looking forward to assessing the condition of her panties next time she got a chance to. Plus the pain was getting worse.
She officially started counting down the minutes with about ten of them to go. By then she could feel the mess between her legs, and she didn’t even care about that much when it felt like her stomach was twisting itself around a rusty knife, having already been burnt open by a flaming hot poker which was still also stuck in there. It was all she could do to keep a straight face, and at around the six minute mark, her uterus spiked so badly she couldn’t keep back a couple of whimpers. When that momentarily subsided, she hastily ran her eyes around the room to see if anyone had heard them. No one gave any sign of it, not even Matt, who was sitting right next to her and she’d already noticed had somewhat better hearing than average. That was a little relief, at least.
Until finally, three long minutes after the clock should’ve declared the class over, they were dismissed. As she stumbled to her feet, looking anxiously at the chair even though she knew there hadn’t yet been enough blood for that, he stepped over to her, and asked quietly, “Foggy, are you all right? I thought I heard you whimpering. Are you in pain?”
There was no use telling him about this, Foggy knew. Doing so would either do nothing at all, or possibly hurt his masculine delicacy, and while usually when she was in this much pain Foggy was willing to tell any man with dumb masculine delicacy to go fuck himself, she was always stupid about Matt. She wished Wanda was in the class; she could’ve told her easily. Or even Pietro-he might not have reacted well, but again, she would’ve had no problem telling him to go fuck himself then.
But she didn’t know what to say instead, and even if she could probably get someone to lend her at least a tampon, there was no way she could get her pills, and that meant not only staying like this through her next class, but through the next hour before they kicked in, and at that moment, she felt like she absolutely could not stand another two hours of this.
But when she didn’t say anything, he leaned in and said, “Foggy, I, uh…I know you get bad cramps; I, uh….I accidentally knocked over your pills one time and Wanda explained to me.” Yeah, he was sounding as embarrassed as hell. “Is this a case of that?”
She nodded, which could’ve been excused as acting without thinking, though her quickly adding, “I just nodded,” couldn’t be. Somehow saying that caused the rest of pour out, “And I don’t have a pad on me, or my pills…”
“And you’re in no shape to get to your room and back in ten…but I think Wanda should be your room right now; she doesn’t have class right now, after all. Give me your keys. I’ll get over there and get her to get you a pad and your painkillers and run them over here.”
“WHAT?!” Foggy didn’t even know where to begin. “Matt, I know you’re capable of a lot of things stupid ableist people think blind people aren’t capable of, but that’s crazy, even ignoring that we can’t be sure Wanda’s in our room! Also, you’ve got a class of your own to get to, and it’s not in a convenient place for this.”
“I can do it, Foggy. I’ve got all the space I’ll be going through pretty well down by heart, so running won’t be a problem. And as for if Wanda’s not there…tell me where you usually keep your things and I’ll see if I can find them on my own. And it’s Water’s class; I can get away with being a few minutes late.
Please, Foggy, let me help.” And oh, when he talked to her like that, so anxious and caring, Foggy always felt even worse than she’d been feeling already. Greedy fool. Her biomom had said that to her two days ago, and she’d been right. Because she ought to be grateful he was such a good friend to her, not disappointed he had no interest in being more, in dating a fat girl who wasn’t nearly his equal in what they did.
Meanwhile, she wasn’t very good at saying no to him, and she was in too much pain to resist further. Her keys came out of her pack and were held out. “My pills at right hand-corner back corner of my desks. There are two bottles there, so make sure you grab the round one. I’ve got a bag of pads in the bottom drawer of my bedside table. I…uh…” It occurred to her that Matt had likely never seen a menstrual pad, since he’d never even known his mother. “If it’s the only thing in the drawer, do you know what to get out?”
“Yeah, I know. I got Elektra a pad once. Don’t worry. I’ll go. Get to your next class and wait there.” And he was running off before she could make any further protests, banging his cane hard enough against the floor that several students hastily backed out of his way. But surely, Foggy thought, he couldn’t get everyone who’d be in his way out all the way across campus. She had crazy images of him being knocked down and injured, or worse.
And to make things for her at the moment even worse, she was stumbling down the stairs, trying to tell herself it wasn’t as painful when she was standing up, when one of her classmates caught up to her, and though Foggy hoped she wasn’t running down to her for the reason she thought she was running down to her, it was in vain. “Excuse me,” she said, breathlessly, “but, well, I heard…is it true your mother is Rosalind Sharpe? As in, the Rosalind Sharpe?”
My mother is Anna Nelson, she wanted to say. That woman who gave birth to me never acted as a mother to me, except possibly during my first few months, but probably not even then. She just came to see me for the first time since I was thirteen, and she said things about best friends that make me seriously want to hurt her.
Rosalind Sharpe is nothing to me, she also wanted to say. She also wanted to be able to mean it.
If she tried, she’d probably burst into tears. Instead she managed a clumsy mutter that was more or less an affirmation.
Which of course got the girl gushing, “That’s amazing! I remember when I first read about her, about the Diwell case, and how she got that woman off. You are so lucky.”
Now Foggy was totally going to burst into tears. There was no longer any avoiding it. “Please,” she managed, “excuse me,” and ran the rest of the way down the stairs and out the side door, only looking afterwards to make sure it wasn’t an emergency exit. Thankfully it wasn’t and she was left alone to find the closest tree and collapse against it to muffle her wails.
She could hear her biomom’s words in her head now, “Well, Frances, this is a pitiful sight. Do you know how embarrassed this would make me, if anyone found out my daughter, who got into Columbia on my legacy, was doing this level of work?” Matt, who after getting a taste of how her mother treated her had made a point of being present when the two of them were together as much as he could, had made a protest, but of course his grades were still better, and when he’d been forced to admit that it had become more ammunition against Foggy.
Don’t let her words get to you, all three of him, Wanda, and Pietro had said to her later. “You know she’d an evil piece of shit,” the normally more flower-mouthed Matt had added when he’d done so. “You even told her so.” Yeah, she had. It had been so easy when she’d made clear her horror of Foggy befriending three orphans, two of them from Eastern Europe, and Foggy had told her she ought to respect them for defying the odds like that.
The problem was, she still wanted to be like her. Not completely, of course; she didn’t want to be a heartless bitch who worked for the society’s elite and helped them keep the law from ever touching them. But every time she read a court transcript with her mother’s words in it, she dreamed of being in her place, of being so strong and badass and able to rule the courtroom. The belief, growing strong with each passing week, that no, she would never be that good, had made her flinch at every criticism her biomom had made of her work, her appearance, her hair, her eating habits, her cleaning habits, and her less than concrete ambitions for exactly what she was going to do once she had her law degree.
So pathetic. Here she was, reduced by some physical pain to just weeping outside a building and not getting to class or stopping Matt from getting himself hurt or doing anything constructive.
She might have even stayed there and been late for class anyway, had not Wanda, who thankfully had been in the room, run up to the two buildings calling her name, and then hustled her into the bathroom and then to the nearest water fountain to get things fixed up. Luckily the blood hadn’t soaked through the denim enough for there to be anything anyone was likely to see. Also luckily by running she was able to slip into her seats moments before Professor Anders walked in. The class was still hell, of course.