Radiant.
Radiant…? What the hell?
The pads are even worse. They not only have similar branding—Security, Radiant again, Ultra-Thin, Infinity Flex Foam—but some seem to have wings.
I pick up a box and stare at it. What the hell is the difference? The wings don’t even look that functional. Just little flaps of paper on the sides.
Probably a marketing gimmick. Like if you use these you’ll feel like you’re flying away…
Then I see some are scented. I pick a bundle that’s supposedly scented, glance around to make sure nobody’s watching, then sniff it, feeling like a freak. Not like any perfume I know. But then what do I know about how women want to smell between their legs during that time of the month?
I study the various options, my arms crossed. There are twenty-seven of them. Then I pull out my phone and start to text Erin until I remember that her phone’s dead.
Damn it.
Okay, time to take charge. It’s late, but I’m texting Cora. It’s for a good cause.
–Me: Hey, what are good tampons or pads for office work and sleep?
A few minutes later, I get a beep.
–Cora: Do you know what time it is in Virginia?
–Me: Just shut up and help me. This is what they got.
I take pictures of all the options and send them to her.
–Cora: Ask the woman you’re buying them for. She must feel comfortable enough with you to ask to buy her tampons.
Well, that part makes me pause because nobody ever asked me, not even Shelly. But whatever pleasure I could be savoring is soon dwarfed by an impending sense of doom. If Cora doesn’t help, I’m going to fail.
And I don’t want to fail Erin.
–Me: Can’t. Long story.
–Cora: What is this, Secret Santa? Isn’t it a little early for that?
I can feel her laughter. This isn’t funny, damn it! She needs to focus on the task at hand.
–Me: No! Come on.
–Cora: I honestly don’t know. I’m particular, so I only like Pearl Active. But most aren’t like me. Just get her a standard one. If she needs them now, she won’t complain no matter what you get. And just in case you make the same mistake all men make, avoid the scented kind. They’re nasty. Now I’m turning my phone off and going to sleep. Good luck!
Okay, that doesn’t help at all. And Cora won’t answer me anymore because she’s basically done her duty as far as she’s concerned.
I sigh and stare at the sea of choices.
“Look like you could use some help,” comes a mildly slurred male voice.
I glance over my shoulder and see a super-skinny guy with curly brown hair and gold-rimmed glasses. The eyes behind them are owlish and slightly bloodshot. “Yeah.”
“The ladies are picky. It’s very personal to them.” He reaches over and grabs a box of Sport tampons.
“Are those the best?” I ask, desperate enough to not care that some random stranger is discussing female hygiene products with me in Walmart after midnight.
“Current lady likes ’em, but the ex sure didn’t.”
Fuck.