Page 28 of The Temptation of Truth
“Moth orchids don’t really go through periods of true dormancy, so that makes this extra weird, but Arthur has beenrestingfor well over a year. I can get him to bud but not bloom. I think I’ve made him angry.”
Mabel hums. “Not too angry. He’s still alive.”
I laugh again. “True. He’s just throwing a tantrum, and I can’t figure out why.” I release a sigh. “Anyway. I’ll get dressed.”
I turn toward the bathroom, but I only get two steps before Mabel stops me.
“Aurora, you forgot something.”
I look back at her. “What?”
I can tell she’s biting the inside of her cheek, no doubt trying not to laugh at me, as she nods to the floor beside my suitcase. I can actually feel the color leech from my face before it flames back to bright red. Warm, to cold, to burning hot.
I already know what I’ll find when I turn around, but I still have to choke back a shriek of horror when I see my granniest pair of cotton underwear splayed out on the hotel carpet.
Of course it’s the period underwear. It couldn’t at least be the cute little hipsters or the new silk bikinis. Nope. Of all the things to fall out of my suitcase in the presence of a rock and roll goddess, it’s my high-waisted, greyish-white, old-as-hell pair of cotton briefs.
Oh, God.
Now she’s going to think I’m dirty and disgusting.
I almost trip over my feet as I dive to pick them up and shove them back into the suitcase. I turn to her and shake my head.
“I own newer ones...nicer...better...I mean, these aren’t my only...They’re clean, I swear. And I do have other pairs...cuter...I just...They’re just...”
Mabel’s expression softens, and she gives me a one-shouldered shrug.
“They’re just really fucking comfortable when you’re on your period and feel like your uterus is being stabbed from the inside out by a drunk Gremlin holding a fist full of dull knives?”
My brows jump in surprise. “Yeah.”
She pats her stomach. “I own a uterus, too, babe. I understand the luxury of a comfy pair of period underwear.”
I stare at her for a few breaths as my brain labors to process the interaction. I feel like I’ve just run a mile in a pair of flip flops while spinning in circles, so it takes several moments before I’m finally able to form a coherent thought, but when my body finally transitions out of panic-mode, I laugh.
“Right. Of course. I’ll just...”
I gesture to the bathroom once more, then duck inside quickly. As soon as the door shuts behind me, the scene replays in my head, and I have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud again. I think about it over and over the whole time I’m changing out of my pajamas.
I own a uterus too,she’d said.
I don’t know why I thought she’d judge me over something as trivial as underwear. She’s not Brady. Just because he thinks they’re gross doesn’t mean Mabel would. Maybe I’d have known that if I had any female friends. The thought brings a frown to my face as I finish pulling on my clothes. It makes me wonder what other views of mine have been unfairly skewed.
I really need to get some friends.
Once dressed, I turn and survey myself in the mirror. I hadn’t paid much attention to what I was grabbing, but there’s no way my outfit could compare to what Mabel’s wearing. While she’snot in a leather miniskirt or hot pink sequins this morning, she still looks ready for a photoshoot. I run my eyes over my bare face and damp hair, then picture the gorgeous rock star currently standing on the other side of the door with her million-dollar blowout and perfectly winged eyeliner.
If she’s not going to judge me over cotton granny panties, she won’t judge me over a cotton sundress. I know this, but it doesn’t eradicate the feelings of inadequacy that creep into my head.
I give myself exactly thirty seconds to feel out of place. Thirty seconds to internally panic about how I don’t belong here and how I should have just stayed home. Then, when those thirty seconds are up, I meet my eyes in the mirror and whisper to myself.
“Shoulders back. Deep breaths. You’re here now, Aurora Jade. Stop being a baby.”
I smooth my hands down the skirt of my sundress, adjust the pendant of my necklace so it sits right between my collarbones, then I step back into the bedroom. Mabel has made herself comfortable, sitting cross-legged on the little loveseat by my window with my room service in front of her. Her eyes scan from my face to my toes and back, and then she smiles.
“You look good in green.”
“Oh. Um, thank you.”
