by Kathy Coudle King
copyright 2000, Kathy Coudle King
I've heard it said again and again that boys are more competitive than girls. I don't think this is necessarily so, we're just more covert about competing.
I know that I have a competitive spirit.
I go about competing grudgingly, mostly because it
makes me uncomfortable, and if I win I try to shrug it
off as a fluke. It's a little easier competing
openly when it's against other women. I guess it's
all that stupid shit we're taught when we're kids --
"Don't act too smart or the boys won't like you."
Of course, we're also taught that it's okay to compete
for boys' attention. All I know is that when I was
growing up with my best friend in the whole wide
world, Gabby Gonzalez, we competed on a daily basis.
We competed against each other in school, in games,
and in non-organized sports, like pick-up games down
at the basketball courts. We rarely got mad if the
other won; we spent so much time together we knew
we'd eventually beat the other at something. All was
in balance until one day when Gabby decided not to play fair. Our bodies were competing big time, and she didn't just win the breast category.
With the bike finally on the sidewalk, I mounted it and rode the five blocks to Gabby's grandmother's apartment, where my friend practically lived. Her grandmother doted on her while her parents buzzed in and out of their apartment between the four or five factory jobs they collectively held in order to make ends meet. When I arrived at Gabby's grandmother's place, I propped the bike up with the kick stand and walked into the vestibule to ring the bell. I gave the "Castaneda" button our secret ring: two long, three short, and one long. This meant, "I don't want to come up, come down." Then I went back outside, got on my sister's bike, and started doing figure eights in the deserted street in front of her building. I couldn't wait for Gabby to see me on my sister's bike. Gabby's had her own bike, but it was pretty old-fashioned, with one of those triangle-type seats, and the handle bars weren't cool like the ones on Debbie's bike. Debbie's came up high, so I didn't have to lean over, while Gabby's looked more like some sort of chrome airplane. And did I mention that Debbie's handle bars had glittery streamers? Gabby was going to drool when she saw me on the bike.
About ten minutes went by, and I was getting dizzy from the figure eights. So, I went back the building and gave our secret buzz again. I was getting kind of impatient since I was so excited to get going. I had just gotten back outside when I heard my name yelled from five stories above me.
"Kimmy! Come up!" It was Gabby leaning out of her bedroom window.
"I can't," I hollered back. "I have my sister's bike. Hurry up and come down!" I was about to go back into my figure eights when her words stopped me.
"Bring it in the building!"
"No way! There's no elevator!" She had to be crazy to think I'd drag it up five flights of stairs. "Besides," I added, "we need to get going. All the best leaves will be walked on." Years later Gabby still reminded me that I'd actually said that.
"Listen, Kim, I can't go." The words fell on me like hail.
"What?" I felt my heart sink as my anger started to rise. It was such a perfect day, and we were all set to explore. And the leaves, and the book. . .
"Look, I just can't. Come up and I'll explain." Then she started to back away from the window, but I scream up to her.
"I don't want to come up. Tell me what it is right now or I'm leaving without you."
Gabby leaned back out the window. She looked up and down the street, then repeated, "Come up."
I was not moving. "No. Tell me now or I'll never speak to you again as long as I live! I bluffed, getting on the bike to prove how serious I was.
Gabby looked up and down the street again, then she cupped her hands around her mouth and mumbled something that didn't quite make it to the ground.
"What?" I yelled back up.
Again, she cupped her hands around her mouth and said, "I have my friend."
Then I was really pissed. There she was, hanging out with some other girl and standing me up on our big adventure. "What friend?" I shouted. "Is it Gina?"
Gabby shook her head violently. "No, not that friend. My friend."
"It's Carmen, isn't it?" I hollered. "I can't believe you'd leave me flat for --"
"It's not Carmen, stupid. It's nobody! Come up and I'll explain!" Then she slammed the window shut, catching the white lace curtain in it.
I stood there a moment staring at the lace flapping in the wind, feeling confused and angry. Finally, I dragged the bike into the building and rang her bell once. It was immediately answered with a responding buzz. I opened the heavy glass door and pushed Debbie's bike inside. Looking at the stairwell that lead up to Gabby's grandmother's apartment, I quickly decided there was no way I could get it up five flights. I decided to stash the prized bike down one level, in the mailbox cubicle. I figured it would be safe for awhile. If my mother knew I was leaving Debbie's bike out of my sight for even a second, she'd have a conniption. I didn't have my own bike because Arnie Sanchez had stolen it. I couldn't prove it, but everyone knew he stole most of the bikes in the neighborhood. But I'd have to take a chance. I felt semi-confident it would be okay on a Saturday morning. "I'll be right back," I muttered to the bike, patting it on it's banana seat.
I took the steps two at a time. I would find out what the heck Gabby was talking about and then I'd tell her what a lousy friend she was, and I'd go to the park on my own. Then it would be a real adventure. I'd find all the leaves and Guinness would put my name in the book. My name alone.
When I got to the fifth floor I saw the door to Gabby's apartment was open, and I walked in. The smell of espresso hit me first, then an under scent of cleaning fluid. I looked around, but no one was in the kitchen. "Hello?" I called out.
"In here," responded Gabby from her bedroom in the corner apartment. She was there so often, her grandparents had given her her own room.
I closed the front door and went through the living room. A pail of sudsy water was in the middle of the hardwood floor. The red velvet couch and chairs covered in plastic see-through covers, were moved away from the wall, and I had to crawl between them to get to Gabby's room.
She was lying in bed with he covers around her, still in her pajamas. I looked around but didn't see anyone else in the room. Where was this friend she had talked about?
"Well," I demanded. "Where is she?"
"I'm a woman," she said, with just the slightest smile on her lips.
"You're a moron," I said. "What's so damn important that you can't go leave collecting?" On damn, I instinctively turned around to make sure no one had heard me.
"We're alone," she said. "My grandmother went to the store to get me some Kotex." She looked at me, watching as it sunk in.
"You mean you --?" I looked at her. She looked the same as she had the day before, but she wasn't the same. She was -- a woman!
"It happened this morning. My grandmother said I couldn't go with you until I mopped the living room floor. So I started doing it when I noticed my panties felt wet -- like I had peed my pants, only different. So I went to the bathroom and there was blood, and -- "
"Don't!" I said, feeling nauseous.
"What? It's perfectly natural, Kim. Remember the film at school? It happens to every girl. Mine just happened sooner than yours, that's all. My grandmother is so happy! She ran out of here to get me a box of Kotex. She's already had the change of time, so we didn't have any in the house."
I didn't say anything. I just looked at my friend. She didn't look any different. She had that same goofy smirk she always had on her face after she beat me at some thing.
"Well, don't you have anything to say? Questions I can answer for you? After all, I got mine first."
She had to rub it in. First came her breasts, and now this. Then I remembered that my sister sometimes lay in bed for days each month, moaning in agony. I asked her while wearing my own loopy smirk, "Does it hurt much?"
"Not too much. But my grandmother thinks I should rest for the day. You know, just take it easy."
"Aw, come on, Gabby. It's beautiful outside, and I've got sandwiches and cookies."
"Cookies? How cute!" and she laughed mockingly. I could feel my face getting hot as I glared at her. "That really is sweet of you, Kim, but see, some things come before cookies and leaf collecting. You'll understand if you get your period."
"What do you mean 'if?'" I exploded.
"Well, we're practically the same age, and I have mine, but you don't have yours."
"So?" I demanded.
"So, there's a percentage of girls who never get their periods. They spend their whole lives -- periodless."
"There's no such thing as 'periodless,'" I said. Though, I was not entirely certain.
"Sure there is. Ask your mom. But then, hey, you'll probably get it soon. And when you do it won't be so bad, 'cause I'll fill you in on what to expect. I'll be glad to give you advice," she said, gloating.
Advice, huh? Wouldn't Gabby just love to give me advice! I could just imagine it. Ugh! Why couldn't my body beat hers just once! I was one of the last in my grade to develop, and it had been less than a year since I'd begun wearing a bra. I made my mom buy me deodorant like all the other girls in gym class used, but I really didn't need it. Also, I had no hips. I was a straight as a flag pole. Why oh why did my body always have to undermine me? I looked at Gabby, reclining in her bed. She grimaced, rubbed the covers over her lower stomach, then said knowingly, "Cramps."
Lucky dog, I thought.
At that point Gabby's grandmother walked in. The old woman practically bounced out of her Keds. And she wasn't alone. Half the old women in the building were with her, and they were all smiling down at Gabby in her bed. "Felicidades!" said the old women. "Tu eres una mujer!" And with that, Gabby's grandmother pulled a huge box of Kotex Maxi Pads out of a brown paper bag.
"My granddaughter, she is growing up!" she exclaimed, and handed Gabby the box. Gabby looked up at her court of women and then at the giant box of sanitary pads. She looked like a queen -- the Kotex Queen. But her reign was not a happy one, because then her grandmother said, "I saw Maria Orlando in the market. Do you know , her daughter has been getting it for over a year now. Only ten years old!" The old women oohd and ahhd sympathetically, then burst out in excited chatter in Spanish about how old they were when they'd started menstruating.
Gabby looked at the giant box of Kotex, the old women, me, and back at the box. The next thing I knew she was bawling.
I couldn't resist, "So?" I needled. "How does it feel to be a woman?" It was a good thing her aim was off because the giant Kotex box came flying threw the air, hitting Mrs. Rodriguez in the shoulder, and knocking her off balance.
The room erupted in concerned voices and an echo of "Que paso's?"
Gabby screamed for everyone to get out of her room. I ran through the apartment, laughing to myself, and gathering speed as I went down the stairs.
When I got down to the mail cubicle I was out of breath and had a stitch in my side. My sister's bike was still there. Arnie Sanchez the Bicycle Thief was fortunately sleeping in this morning. My laughter quickly slipped away, though, when I saw the bike. It had fallen and was lying on its side. It didn't look quite so snazzy now. The purple didn't seem as dark, the glitter on the seat didn't seem so sparkly, and even the streamers on the handlebars didn't seem so festive. In fact, they seemed kind of childish. It was a bike for a little girl, a periodless girl. Now I knew why my sister said I could borrow it. I struggled to pull it up, and get it outside. Even in the June sunshine the bike had lost its luster. I rode it back to my building, dragged it back into the storage room, and went upstairs to my apartment. My mother wanted to know why I was back so soon. "Gabby got her period," I said. I ignored my mother's inquiring look, went into my room, and closed the door. Lying on my bed on my back, I reached into the bag that I'd packed with our picnic lunch and began gauging out the chips from the cookies with my index finger. Having destroyed and devoured the cookies, I lay staring up at ceiling cracks. I lay there for a long time, staring and eating first one peanut butter and jelly sandwich then the second.. Over and over I tried to will my body to bleed. I waited for the wetness to come all day. Sometimes I imagined I'd feel it and would get up and check my panties. Nothing. I continued to wait.
Meanwhile, over at Gabby's grandmother's place, her grandma scurried around trying to make her comfortable. 7-up was sent for, soup was made, chocolate was brought. The T.V. was wheeled into the bedroom, and Gabby yelled for her grandmother whenever she wanted the channel changed. When her grandmother began to complain, Gabby rolled her eyes and groaned in agony, and her grandmother caved in to her requests. How do I know? Because this is how it went every month for years. That June day began the reign of the Kotex Queen. She ruled every twenty-eight days, for five days, regular as sunshine in the Mojave. The Virgin and The Tampon
by Kathy Coudle King
Maintaining one's virginity was of utmost importance to us girls even though at thirteen and fourteen we were nowhere near ready or willing to have sex. The idea terrified us. We were still getting use to the hair beneath our arm pits; there was no way we were going to get naked with a boy. This made it that much easier for us to cling to the morality issues surrounding virginity: Good girls don't, bad girls do it.
Most of us were just learning to French kiss at the time Letty introduced us to an intriguing philosophical, if not medical debate. Gabby and I were at Letty's the summer before my 14th birthday. I had been menstruating for almost a year, Gabby for two and Letty - practically a woman - for three. We were crammed in front of her tiny bathroom mirror taking turns spraying Sun In on our hair. All three brunettes, we wanted to see what life had to offer if we could go blonde for the summer. We were giggling about what our parents would say, if they'd even notice and so on, when I spotted the light blue box. "Your mother uses tampons?" I asked incredulously. Not only didn't my mother used tampons, but she still had one of those belt contraptions "hidden" (father mustn't know she got her period) in the bathroom hamper. And my eighteen year old sister didn't use tampons either, so Letty's mother's choice was a surprise.
"Not my mother," answered Leticia, nonchalantly, "me."
Gabby and my mouths fell wide open. Then Gabby started laughing, "Yeah, right!" She pushed me gently, "She's kidding, stupid!"
"You are?" I asked, not yet sure.
"No, I'm not. I use tampons. What's the big deal?" Letty asked, combing the chemical bleach through her hair.
She was playing coy, because everyone knew that a girl couldn't use tampons if she was a virgin. As far as I knew, and there was little I didn't know about my two best friends, Letty still shared this glorified status with Gabby and me.
Gabby didn't believe her and laughed louder. "Yeah, and I take birth control pills too. Want one?" This question caused her to double over. She was snorting through her nose now, and in a minute she would wet her pants.
"Gabby, I think she's serious," I said.
"Of course I'm serious. I have one in right now," she said.
"Sure, you do," Gabby said, "And I have a diaphragm in, too. Just in case the Pill doesn't work," she said. This last comment forced her to pull down her shorts and underwear and pee into the toilet.
"Why is she laughing, Kathy?" Letty seemed totally unaware of the virgin - tampon connection.
"She doesn't believe you could use tampons - - yet," I answered, trying to be tactful. Letty was very mature for fourteen, and much more sophisticated than any of us. Maybe she wasn't a virgin. Maybe she and David had - -? Or Mad Manny - -? Ugh! The image chilled me and I shook my head to clear it.
"Well, I use them. They're so much cleaner," Letty said, plugging in her blow dryer. "And you can go swimming or horseback riding with them in." We'd all seen the ads in Seventeen magazine.
"I don't believe you," said Gabby. "Prove it!"
"What? You want me to show you I have a tampon in?" This seemed to pierce through Letty's cool attitude.
"Yeah, show us!"
Oh, God! I thought. I do not need to see this. "That's okay, Letty. I believe you. You wear tampons, so what, right? What's the biggie, Gabby?" But Letty only hesitated for a second. She was not someone who was overly modest. In a flash she pulled down her cotton shorts, then her pink panties. Her hand disappeared between her spread legs, and from a small patch of dark hair it re-emerged trailing a short white string.
"Would you like me to pull it out for you?" Letty asked, smiling triumphantly. It was a good thing Gabby was already sitting on the toilet because her tanned face began to go white.
I felt behind me for the ledge of the bathtub and plopped down, waving my hand at Letty. "No, that's okay," I managed to squeak. We had all seen each other naked, but that little white string seemed so -- personal.
Gabby was quick to recover, "When? When did it happen?"
"When did what happen?" asked Letty, pulling up her pants.
"When did you lose your virginity?" she said, cutting to the chase.
"What are you talking about? I'm still a virgin, stupid. Would you hand me that hair brush, Kathy? Thanks," she said, continuing to work on her new blond look.
Gabby looked at me, eyebrows raised and jaw gaping. For once she couldn't find the words to say what she was thinking. But I knew. Tampons = Non-Virgin. There was more silence in that apartment than any of us had ever experienced.
"What already?" asked Letty. "You two have the weirdest looks on your faces."
"Should I tell her or you?" Gabby asked me.
"Tell me what?" Letty wanted to know.
"You tell her," I told Gabby.
"You're sure you're a virgin?" Gabby pressed.
"Of course, I'm sure! I'd know, wouldn't I?" Letty seemed pissed that her status was being questioned.
"Okay, okay, we believe you. The thing is, maybe you lost it," Gabby sounded concerned.
"Lost what?! What is she talking about, Kath?" Letty pleaded.
"Your virginity. You may have lost your virginity," I said solemnly. "Virgins can't use tampons."
"Everyone knows that," Gabby added.
"Where did you guys get that? Your mothers? Because that's what my mother said at first, too. But it's not true."
"How do you know?" Gabby asked.
"How can you be sure?" I asked, still convinced that Letty had blown her virginity, not passionately but with a tampon.
"God! Don't you guys know anything about your bodies?" she asked.
"We know that tampons can bust open your hayman!" Gabby said, bristling.
"It's hymen, stupid, and your hymen was probably busted from cheerleading or gymnastics anyway. It's just a piece of membrane," she said, sounding quite knowledgeable.
"Well, what do guys mean when they say they 'popped her cherry'?" I asked, not totally convinced yet.
"That's just some macho delusion guys have about virginity. Sure, some girls have hymens that are still together, but today most girls are so active that they probably aren't," she said.
"How did you learn all this?" I asked, impressed.
"Encyclopedias," she said, going to the set her step-father had bought her to help her do her school assignments. She looked up female sexuality, and we spent the rest of the day pouring over the illustrations of our bodies and the info about how they worked. Sure, in sixth grade all the girls had been sent to the assembly about getting our period, but if they'd talked about hymens and virginity, I'd surely missed it. Letty helped fill in the blanks that we'd never even knew existed. Even though there wasn't more than a few months difference between any of our ages, Letty was like a big sister. This worked out since she was an only child. Maybe she had more time on her own to learn stuff.
The next day I stopped by Gabby's on the way over to Letty's apartment, where we'd planned on getting together, as usual: no mother hanging around to spy on us. But Gabby had already left for Letty's. That was odd since we had our routine. What was up? When I got to Letty's she informed me that Gabby was in the bathroom, putting in a tampon. Wouldn't you know that Gabby would go and get her period, just because Letty had? None of us had yet heard about how females living together often cycle together., and that summer we were just about living at Letty's. In any case, Gabby decided when she woke up that morning with a spot of blood on her sheet that she would try tampons.
Gabby had the bathroom door closed. "Kathy's here," Letty informed her as we barged in.
"Hi, Kat! Guess what I'm about to do?" she asked.
"Take a crap?" I asked, still feeling like an outsider.
"No, stupid, I got my period and I'm about to stick in a tampon!" she sounded so happy.
"Did you ask your mother if you could?" I asked, trying to dissuade her of this new experience I couldn't yet share.
"Yeah, but she said she wouldn't buy me any because virgins can't use them. That's why Letty's lending me hers," she said.
"Ugh! I'm not lending you anything! You can keep it when you're though!" Letty said, laughing.
"Ahhh! Gross!" I yelled, joining in the laughter.
"You sure you don't want me to return it?" Gabby played along.
"Okay, okay, just get on with it. We want to go do something today," Letty said.
"Hold on a sec," I said. "I know what you said yesterday about hymens and all, but how come our mothers don't know? I mean, maybe there's something to what they say," I suggested.
"Kath, your mother won't let you sit on the front stoop of your house because she thinks sitting on cold concrete will give you diarrhea. Do you think your mother is always right?" Gabby questioned.
"Well, no, but this seems pretty important. But if you don't care about your hymen, why should I? Go ahead and do it," I said, shrugging my shoulders and walking away into the bedroom.
"What are you saying? Gabby shouldn't wear tampons, but it's okay if I do?" Letty asked, sounding insulted.
"Well, you already have," I said, already wishing I hadn't started into this. I didn't mean to insult Letty. But if there was some truth to what our mothers said, then she was a lost cause. Her hymen was a goner.
"So, it's too late for me, then? Is that what you're saying?" she badgered.
"No, it's just that . . . once it's gone you can't get it back." Letty looked pissed at me and Gabby looked worried.
"I showed you guys the encyclopedia yesterday. It's no big deal. But what do I care? Go ahead, Gabby, stick with pads," she walked away from both of us.
I had picked up the box and was trying to find some final proof one way or the other. Then I saw the 800 number. Have any questions, give them a call. This was just what we needed to do!
Letty perked up when I showed her the number. "Terrific! Now, if they say tampons are okay for us to use, then that's it, right? We all agree?" Letty checked with us.
"Whatever they say, we'll go with. I mean, they should know, right? So, who's going to call?" Gabby wanted to know.
"Why don't you call?" I asked. "It's your virginity on the line."
"Yeah, since I'm already not a virgin, right, Kathy?" Letty came back at me, still pissed.
"That's not what I mean - -" I tried to clean it up.
"I know what you mean. Look, I'll call. It's my house, my phone, and my tampons. Give me the box." She grabbed it from me and picked up her phone, punched in the 800 number and looked at me with her jaw set.
Why did I have to go and get her mad at me just because I felt a little left out? It was so hard being a trio of friends. The balance was always so precarious. The slightest thing could set it out of whack and two would be pitted against one. This time tampons had done it.
"Hello? Yes, I have a question about your product," Letty said, trying to sound grown-up. There was a pause. "Yes, my friends were wondering if virgins can use them? Could you repeat that," and Letty held the phone out in the air.
"Of course," came the reply from the receiver.
"Thank you very much," Letty said loudly, looking straight at me. She hung up the phone. "Satisfied?" We were.
"I knew it all along," Gabby said.
"Yeah, right. It's good to check, that's all," I said, trying to sound chipper, but feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment.
"So, go put it in, already," Letty said, steering Gabby back toward the bathroom.
"Hurry up. I feel like hanging out at the park today. Luis Montana might show up," I said and walked over to Letty's dresser where I plugged in her curling iron. But I could clearly hear everything that went on.
"She's just jealous because we use tampons," Gabby said in a stage whisper.
"Am not," I said, feeling very jealous.
"Look, can we get on with this? I'll wait outside. Call me if you need me," Letty said. She'd barely closed the door when Gabby called out.
"Letty? Letty, are you still there?" Gabby sounded less confident than she had when talking about me.
"Yeah, I'm here. Did you get it out of the wrapper yet?" Gabby asked.
"Yeah. Now what?" I could just imagine the fear on Gabby's face that was now in her voice.
"Well, you just hold onto it and stick it in," Letty sounded impatient.
"Stick it in - - where?" Gabby asked perplexed.
"Stick it in your vagina, stupid!" Letty shouted, exasperated. "There's the lips, and the clitoris, and the vagina! Do you need to see the encyclopedia? Look, why don't you just let me come in and I'll put it in for you."
"That's okay, I can figure it out." Then there was silence for about a minute. "Shit!"
"What happened?!" Letty and I both shouted together. Maybe Gabby had destroyed her hymen after all and it hurt.
"It came apart!" she cried out.
"What did?!" I was horrified, my fears were confirmed.
"She means the applicator. You mean the applicator, right?" Letty sounded old and wise.
"Yeah!"
"It happens if you don't handle it just right. Look, slide the tube over the other tube with the tampon in it. Can you do that?" she asked, sounding like she doubted that Gabby could.
"Let me see . . . yeah, I got it back. Okay, now I - -?"
"Now you put it in," Letty was losing her patience.
"Now I put it in, okay, I can do this. I can. I just find the hole, and - -" Gabby sounded frightened.
"You push it in," Letty coached.
"I can't!" Gabby cried out.
"Then don't do it!" I shouted from the bedroom, my heart pounding. What were wrong with pads, anyway, Gabby was the Kotex Queen. Wasn't that enough for her?
"Listen, Gabby, you just have to be firm. Are you sitting on the edge of the tub?" Letty asked.
"No, you didn't tell me to sit on the tub!"
"Well, sometimes it can help. Sit down, spread your legs wide and then push the tampon in. Try it," she suggested.
"I'm trying. Okay, firm. Ahh! It's going in!"
"Yes! Now keep going until your fingers are right up against your vagina. Are you there yet?" Letty asked, excited now.
"Yes! Yes! It's in! I'm wearing a tampon!" Gabby shouted, clapping.
"Okay, great! Now you just need to remove the applicator and you're done," Letty said, sounding like she'd just coached Gabby through child birth.
"Pull out the applicator? What do you mean?" Gabby sounded totally baffled. "By the string?"
"No, that's the tampon. The round tubie thing is the applicator. That's just to help you get it in. You've got to the tube out," Letty quickly went from sounding triumphant to exasperated again.
"How do I do that?" Letty.
"You just slide it out. It's made so the top part slides back down with the bottom part."
"Well, nothing slid back down. It's stuck up there!" Gabby began to panic.
"Look, open the door and let me help you," Letty said, pounding on it.
Gabby opened the door after a beat, and stood there, her waist wrapped in a towel. She was feeling modest all of a sudden. "What am I going to do?"
"Did you hear about those girls who died from toxic shock syndrome?" I asked, sounding just like my mother.
"Toxic shock? What's that?" Gabby panicked.
"Nothing," Letty said, glaring at me. Then she took Gabby by her free hand, the other one was clenching the towel around her waist. "Listen, just lie down on my bed and I'll get it out for you."
"Oh, God!" I said.
"You're not helping, Kathy," Letty said.
"Sorry, but I've never heard of this before. What's wrong with pads, anyway?"
"You can't go swimming with pads," Letty said.
"Were we going swimming today," I asked.
"No," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "But we could."
"Would you please get this thing out of me!" Gabby screamed, lying on the bed.
"Okay, just lay still, and open your legs wide. Oh, wait a sec!" and she disappeared for a minute.
"What's she doing?" Gabby asked me, lying prone on the bed.
"Does it hurt?" I asked, beginning to feel a little sorry for her.
"No, not really. I just want it out."
Then Letty returned with the orange rubber cleaning gloves her mother washed dishes in. "Okay, I'm ready!"
"What's with the gloves? I don't have crabs or anything!" Gabby was genuinely insulted.
"It's to protect you, stupid. You don't want my fingers in your pussy, do you?"
"Ahhh!" I shouted, roaring at the word.
"Oh, just get it out!" she flung her head back and squeezed her eyes shut.
"Okay," Letty squatted down at the edge of the bed. "Oh, there it is. I see it." Then I had to look away because my stomach did a flip. "And . . . got it!"
When I looked back, Letty was holding up a narrow white cardboard tube, slightly smeared with Gabby's menstrual blood.
"Done?" Gabby asked, unsure.
"All done. You know, I think I could be a doctor," she sounded quite proud of herself. She walked into the bathroom and dropped the applicator in the trash.
Gabby stood up gingerly, letting the towel drop. She went to the bedroom mirror and lifted up a leg to reveal the string dangling. A soft "wow" was all she could muster.
"How does it feel?" I asked, still feeling nauseous.
"Fine. Can hardly notice it's there," she said, her old cockiness returning. But as she walked back into the bathroom to pull on her underwear and shorts, she reminded me of John Wayne after a long cattle drive.
Letty came in snapping off the rubber gloves. "Well, Kathy, do you need a tampon, too?
"I'll pass," I said, smiling.
"Just let me know if you want to try them. Hey, your hair looks great today!" Apparently her medical success erased any hard feelings about my questioning her on the tampon - virgin issue. Gabby, now dressed, came up behind me and ran her hands through her own bleached hair.
I looked at myself in the mirror. The three of us stood shoulder to shoulder. Every day we were changing ourselves and being changed. After this thing called puberty was over, who would we be? Would I recognize the girls in the mirror? Would we recognize ourselves? Would we remember this day when we were so close that our bodies were open books to each other?
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