Rose enjoys burning off her leg hair with her purple Bic's lighter.

She wishes she could do that with her grief-- swallow it with a little flame. But life isn't that easy, most unfortunately.

Her abdomen hurts. It's been hurting ever since the afternoon. She eats the other half of her tofu burrito and Oreos for dinner then proceeds to toss and turn all night. When going to the bathroom at around 1am, she realizes her underwear is stained.

Rose didn't expect this. At fourteen years old, she knew she was probably a late bloomer, but part of her had hoped she'd never get her period. She's pissed her uterus decided to do this after Heath had gone shopping. Just her luck. It's not like she ever wants kids, so it's a bodily burden with absolutely zero purpose. 

That night, she sleeps for only four hours, and dreams vividly of pink and white flowers, fragrant and soft. When she wakes up, the pain in her stomach has spread up her back; a dull, obnoxious ache rages within her angry womb, and she knows its time to have that conversation with Heath.

When she comes down the stairs, she smells bacon. She can hear it sizzling in the pan, too, but she isn't hungry in the slightest. 

"Good morning. Do you like bacon and eggs?" he asks.

"I don't want them. Coffee is good, though. Do you have any Tylenol?" 

Heath uses a spatula to move the bacon to a white plate. The steam from the meat is fogging up his sunglasses. "Just try it. I've read that breakfast is important."

"I'm a vegetarian. Again, do you have Advil or something? I have cramps."

"No, but I can get some." He turns off the oven and heads over to the cabinet in the living room. Rose is a little let-down that he didn't have a repulsed reaction like some guys do when hearing about periods. She thought it might've been funny. Heath pulls out his gloves, mask, and a black and grey scarf, wrapping it around his neck. “I'll be back. Remember the one rule."

"What? No opening the door?"

Heath snaps his bare fingers and makes a finger gun. "Bingo." He slides on the other glove, then opens and shuts the door, keys jingling in the lock as he secures it from the other side. When he's gone, she wanders over to the breakfast he made her. She throws out the bacon and gets ketchup for the eggs, which is in a brand new bottle. All of the food is new, and Rose figures it's because Heath didn't use this house and was gone for so long that he got rid of the previous refrigerated foods so they wouldn't go bad. That's her optimistic theory, anyway. Her other theory is that Heath is anorexic since he's so thin and she hasn't seen him eat.

She wanders over to the couch and turns on the TV. She watches an animal documentary on Netflix until she drifts off, the plate of half-eaten food still on her lap.

When she comes to, it's when the door slams shut. Rose nearly knocks the food off her knees, but catches it in time. 

"Hi."

"Hey. I have period stuff and coffee." Heath is carrying a huge box in one arm and a bag in the other. He places a box of tampons and pads down on the counter, with a bottle of Tylenol, Motrin and Advil and a carton of Ben and Jerry's with a bag of coffee beans. He also has a coffee machine.

"You could've just bought a Keurig. They're cheaper."

Heath shrugs, opening the box with a knife. He puts the giant machine on the counter and plugs it in, flipping through the instruction manual. He reads under his breath, getting out a white mug and eventually filling it with coffee. Rose asks for a splash of milk and sugar, which he adds and then brings over to her with a couple of pills. He also takes her plate.

Rose takes a moment to appreciate Heath being so servile. Uncle would've told her to figure it out herself, but Heath is different. Perhaps it is pity which will fade, or maybe he's just a genuinely kind person. Rose figures time will only tell.

The mug reads Harvard Class of 1972.

"Is this mug from Dad?"

There's a pause. "What mug?" asks Heath.

ADHD sign #2: Obliviousness, Rose thinks to herself. "The one from 1972."

"Yeah, um... Dad left when I was young but he left some things behind. Including that mug."

Rose smells bullshit. "'Kay."

"I also need to talk to you about something." Heath walks back over from the dish washer where he placed her dish and takes the rocking chair in front of the couch. He rocks in it as he talks. "School is next week."

"Are you serious?" asks Rose in disbelief. "My family member just died and you expect me to go to school like nothing happened?"

"It'll be hard to catch up if you take time off, and if you never go back I'll lose custody."

Rose crosses her arms. "Ugh."

"Rose. Please."

"Okay, fine! Whatever."

"There's a bus stop down the road. I'd drive you if I could, but I have a job at the hospital."

"You're a doctor?" she asks. She never inquired about what he did, but he seemed too young to be a doctor.

"I'm a lot of things," he says with the hint of a smile. "One of the nurses has a daughter your age. I could invite her over and introduce you."

Rose scowls. "I can make friends on my own, thanks."

Heath puts up his hands in mock surrender, then puts them back on the arms of the chair. "Is there anything else you need? I want you to like living here."

"Not really. Oh, and here." She chucks the debit card at Heath, which he catches despite lack of a warning. "I ordered a new bedspread with it."

"That's fine." He slides it into his leather wallet. "I'm going to go read. Anything else?" 

"Not particularly."

Heath stands up and disappears into his room. Rose is anxious about starting school. She's always hated it-- too overstimulating, too much socializing, and the fire drills always make her cry, much to her embarrassment. But she knows its inevitable, and braces herself for its beginning.