Free Damsels in Distress by Nikita Lynnette Nichols Page B

free for two years and she refused to travel down that road again. Condoms were out of the question according to Ronald. He told Ginger that taking the time to put on a condom puts a damper on lovemaking.
    â€œBirth control is the woman’s responsibility,” Ronald said to Ginger. “Since men can’t get pregnant, why should we be held accountable for what could happen?”
    That question to Ginger was asked after her first miscarriage. From then on, Ginger relied on an ovulation predictor to tell her when she and Ronald could have sex. Considering the fact that Ginger had gotten pregnant again after she started using the ovulation predictor told her it wasn’t predictable at all.
    Ginger picked up the photograph of her and Ronald from the nightstand, and carefully sat down on the bed wincing at the pain in between her legs. She reminisced about the time she told Celeste and Portia that she’d met someone with potential. It was back in the days when if one of them had a date, all three of them had a date.
    Four years ago on a Friday night in February, Ginger rang Portia’s telephone with excitement in her voice. “Girl, I’ve got something to tell you.”
    â€œI already know. You’re pregnant,” Portia stated.
    Ginger’s heart leapt in her chest. She was twenty-three years old and single but she wasn’t celibate. Every month Ginger looked forward to getting her period. To every other woman, what seemed like the worst days of her life were days of joy for Ginger.
    It was normal for her to count the days of the week on a calendar to make sure her menstrual cycle was right on time. If Ginger’s period didn’t flow on the first day it was supposed to, she would sit on the toilet and push like she was constipated or trying to deliver a baby. There were times when Ginger had pushed so hard, she’d made herself dizzy. One episode of pushing resulted in a case of flaming hemorrhoids. When the pushing didn’t work, Ginger would get on her knees and cry out loud, “I ain’t gonna do it no more, Lord. I promise, I promise, I promise. Please bring my period, Jesus. No more sex, Lord. I’m begging you, Jesus. Please have mercy on me.”
    And when God showed a little mercy on Ginger, she would double her tithes the following Sunday morning. Ginger would walk to the front of the church and drop her envelope in the basket while displaying the biggest grin on her face. And if cramps were making their presence known, Ginger would pat her lower abdomen, smile, look up toward heaven and say, “Thank you, Lord.”
    There was a time when Ginger’s period was three days late. But on the fourth day her prayers were answered. Ginger felt so good; she bought her favorite foods and invited Portia and Celeste over for a Period Party.
    Celeste gave her a gift-wrapped box of tampons. Ginger opened a card that read:

    Congratulations on getting your period. I hope you get many more.

    Portia’s gift was a box of Midol. Ginger gave the box back to Portia. “You can keep those. I love my cramps. They let me know that my friend Flo ain’t too far behind.”
    Portia looked at Ginger. “You know you’re stupid, right? If you didn’t know, now you know.”
    That night was the first of many Period Parties yet to come.
    â€œDon’t play like that, Portia. Ain’t nobody pregnant,” Ginger said. Portia was taking the telephone conversation a different way. Ginger was calling to share the news that she had met a guy.
    â€œSomebody is because I dreamed of fish last night.”
    â€œWell, it ain’t me. So it must be either you or Celeste.”
    â€œIt’s gotta be Celeste then because it sure isn’t me. You know she and Tony have been trying to get pregnant since forever.”
    â€œHold on a minute, Portia. I’m gonna get her on the three - way.” Ginger clicked over and dialed Celeste’s number