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Silco awoke to a scream. Jolting upright in bed, he scanned the dark room, heart racing, looking for the source of the noise. There it was again—a sob from behind damask wallpaper, the wall that he shared with his daughter.
Jinx.
It wasn’t first time he’d woken up like this. Countless nights he’d stumbled out of bed, tossed his eye mask aside, fumbled for his slippers on the floor, ultimately forgoing them in a mad dash into the hallway as the screams escalated in pitch. Tonight was no different.
“Jinx!” Silco panted as he threw open her bedroom door. He steadied himself against the frame, hair falling into his face as he scanned the room.
The shadow of her tiny body was huddled in the corner of her bed, rattling with sobs, clasping her knees like she was about to unravel.
“It’s ok, it’s only a dream,” Silco soothed as he crossed the room, flicking on the lamp on her nightstand. “You’re safe.”
Her big blue eyes welled with tears, looking at him with timid uncertainty, clearly unconvinced.
Silco’s weight dimpled the bed as he sat. “Come here. Tell me about it.”
But the little girl didn’t move. Her blue hair was a nest of tangles, one eye peeking out from beneath her arm. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause it’s disgusting.”
“Jinx, I’ve seen my fair share of horrors. I assure you I am un-disgustable.”
She huffed, biting her lip and picking at the stitching on her pink and blue quilt. After a long pause, she finally spoke, barely audible. “I’m bleeding,” she eked out, casting her gaze toward the foot of the bed.
Silco scanned the girl. There had been many nights that began like this where he would find her bruised. Clumps of blue hair scattered across her pillow. Red welts the size of her own tiny fists, knuckles swollen. Where he had to be the one to still them. But presently there wasn’t a scratch on her. “In your nightmare?”
“NO,” she snapped, fuming through her nostrils as she gathered the words, and when she finally did, they were timid. “I’m actually bleeding.”
Silco shifted closer, brows pinching. “Where?”
Jinx gave an exasperated sigh, fresh tears welling in her lower lids. She gathered the quilt in her little fists, tugging it closer around her like shield. When she finally answered, it was a barely audible mumble. “Down there.”
Oh. OH.
“It’s ok—”
“No it’s not! It’s disgusting and I’m—I’m dying or something.”
“No, no you’re not dying. It’s—” Gods, did she truly not know? The girl hardly lived a sheltered life, and she’d had an older sister. “It’s—” The words were drying up on his tongue. He should have prepared for this. He’d taken in a little girl, she would become a woman eventually. “It’s normal.”
“NORMAL?” Jinx half-yelled, half-squeaked.
“Yes, it’s normal. For women.”
Silco could see the gears turning behind the nest of blue hair, the disgust, the utter confusion. He felt woefully unprepared. How was he to explain this?
“When—when a girl reaches a certain age she—” Fuck. “She—well, hold on, let’s back up a minute.” Silco pinched the bridge of his nose, hardly believing he was having this conversation. “Women have inside parts, whereas men have outside parts.”
Jinx went absolutely crimson, the heels of her palms colliding with her eyes. “Yeah I know!”
“Yes, I know you know but—just—hold on I’m going somewhere with this.” Silco collected himself with a deep breath. “When a girl is old enough she releases an egg. From one of her inside parts, her ovaries.” The word felt awkward on his tongue—clinical, scientific, foreign. He could only imagine how awkward it sounded. “If the egg goes unfertilized, the lining of the uterus sheds, hence the bleeding.”
Jinx looked utterly horrified. Whether it was from what Silco was saying or the fact that it was coming out of his mouth, he was unsure. Maybe a little of both. Regardless, he could relate.
“Unfertilized?”
Bloody hell. “A baby.”
Jinx screwed up her face in disgust.
“You do know where babies come from, right?” Silco was deeply afraid of the answer.
Jinx buried her face in her hands, muffling a groan. “Yeah, I know where babies come from, Silco.”
Silco heaved a sigh of relief, smoothing a hand over his disheveled hair. He was certain the awkwardness of that conversation might do irreversible psychological damage to both himself and his daughter. “Ok, glad we’re clear on that portion of this... biology lecture.”
“Me too,” she mumbled against her palms.
“Anyway, this cycle—with the egg and the bleeding—this happens every month.”
“Every month!?”
“Yes, every month.”
“For the rest of my life?”
“Not for the rest of your life. Until your 40s or 50s probably.”
Jinx, stunned, sat back against the wall, staring out into the room.
“I know, it’s unfortunate. And rather unfair.”
The girl stayed silent, a weary, hopeless expression settling over her features. Her head lolled against a network of neon scribbles—animals resembling her contraptions, hearts, stars, and faces. The same that decorated his ash tray, found their way into the rafters of his office. Bright reminders of her presence, how she altered everything she touched. Silco wondered if there were a way to peer inside his chest that he might find her signature in neon blue.
Jinx was a part of his life he’d never planned for, never anticipated, and now after only a few short years, could not imagine his life without. But Jinx would not remain a little girl forever.
“It only lasts a handful of days, at least so I’ve heard. Everyone’s different I’m sure,” Silco soothed, but it did nothing to alter her despondent state. “Are you in pain?”
Jinx took a deep, long breath, assessing. “A little,” she mumbled.
“I can give you something for that. Why don’t you go clean up and I’ll change the sheets? I can make something so you don’t get blood on the new ones.”
Jinx gave him an uncertain look, tugging the blankets around her tighter.
“It’s just blood, Jinx. I’ve seen my fare share. I’m not the least bit squeamish.”
With a sharp sigh, Jinx finally conceded, tugging her nightshirt down as she grumbled off to the bathroom.
Silco scanned the chaos of the room—half-finished gadgets and a sentry of stuffed animals, mind whirring with what he possibly could use to construct what he needed. In the end, he settled for a wash rag and some safety pins he’d fished off of Jinx’s desk. The act of construction was surreal, strange, something he’d never pictured himself doing in the grand scheme of his life—clumsy fingers navigating thick terrycloth, wrangling sharp pins into a tiny pair of blue underwear. With a knock on the bathroom door, he offered them to her through the crack.
“A washcloth diaper?” Jinx cringed.
“It’s the best I can do for now. In the morning I’ll send Sevika out for something more substantial.”
“Ugh, don’t tell Sevika.”
“Sevika has the same monthly problem. And I guarantee she’ll make a more appropriate selection than I would.”
Sheets changed and blankets smoothed, Jinx resumed her position, sliding beneath the patchwork of pink and blue. Stuffed animals lined up like sentinels where the bed met the wall, keeping watch.
Silco sat down on her bed. “Will you be alright?”
Jinx lowered the blankets beneath her chin, giving a little nod.
“Alright then. Goodnight, Jinx,” Silco concluded, twisting to locate the switch for her lamp. Suddenly he felt a pair of small arms wrap around his torso. He froze for a second, turning back over his shoulder.
“Thank you,” Jinx mumbled into the fabric of his nightshirt.
Silco softened, hand soothing over her back. “Of course, sweetheart.” His lips found the crown of her head, and he took a precious second to capture the moment like a photo, to store it in his chest beside the drawings, tuck it safely behind his heart before rising into the darkness and out into the hall.