Chapter 188 - Hashmarks

*Society has placed a taboo surrounding periods and menstrual health as if we should be ashamed of this natural and miraculous process that ultimately kept the human species alive. – Tracy Lockwood*
Helen had agreed to have lunch with Cheryl after her morning lecture. Walking into the lecture hall with stadium seating, she had expected to see a female version of Indiana Jones. Floppy hat, khaki pants and loose fit shirt covered by a dirty brown vest and hiking boots beat all to hell. Maybe even a whip at her hip.
The professional woman in a dark purple skirt suit and knee-high black boots was nothing of what she had anticipated. Cheryl sat on the large black table at the front of the room. There were three screens behind her with a mural of caveman life projected on them.
Curiously, there were two stationary bikes by the long table. One at either end. A small table sat next to each one.
The overhead lights were dim, giving just enough light for the students to see as they scribbled notes. Scattered throughout the lecture hall were open laptops and large screen tablets. Most of the students were in jeans and either a T-shirt or sweatshirt. There were a few women that were dressed to the nines with their hair and makeup perfectly done and jewelry coordinating with their carefully chosen outfits.
Helen slid into an open seat next to a woman wearing pajama pants with Ramen Noodle cups all over them. Her hair was thrown up into a messy bun and she wore no jewelry or makeup. The oversized sweatshirt was for the university’s women’s soccer team. The young woman shifted, and Helen watched as she slid her feet out of the flip flops and folded her legs crisscross into the seat.
“Why do you think that humans are naturally a matriarchal society?” A male student halfway down the lecture hall asked.
“Damn, asshole.” The girl in pajamas muttered. “Where the hell have you been all semester?”
“I guess this is a common discussion?” Helen asked quietly.
The girl looked at Helen with a confused look. “You’re not here for the class?”
Shaking her head, Helen smiled. “The professor is my stepdaughter. I’m here to have lunch with her.”
“You’re Dr. Reese’s stepmom?” the girl asked, and Helen nodded. “Holy shit. I love Doc R. This whole class is about her theory that we should be a matriarchal society rather than patriarchal.”
“But females are weak.” The male student declared, and the room fell silent.
“Last week,” Cheryl said with a grin, “when you made that claim, you lost an arm-wrestling contest to Miss Angelise.”
“That wasn’t very fair.” He countered. “She’s on the hockey team.”
“You said the same about Miss Sharon the week before when she out lifted you.” Cheryl continued to grin.
“Because she’s on the powerlifting team!” the man complained and there were quiet snickers around the room.
“Luckily for you, I have another competitor for you.” Cheryl grinned as she rubbed her growing belly. “And she’s not an athlete. Now, you guys are going to have to help me convince my stepmom to come play. We were supposed to just go to lunch, but…”
“Oh, you gotta!” the girl in pajamas loudly encouraged.
The whole class turned towards the back and then the hall erupted in cheers. Blushing, Helen stood up and walked towards the front. Now she knew why Cheryl was asking about her bike riding skills. And why she had suggested that Helen wear comfortable clothes, and not a skirt or dress.
The male student laughed as he stood up and walked up to the front. “This is going to be easy.”
“You think, so?” Cheryl asked with a grin.
He made no effort to hide his appraisal of the middle-aged woman. “Without a doubt.”
“Glad to hear it.” Cheryl replied as the young man headed for the far bike. “Now, Professor Williams from the nursing program has agreed to help us with today’s experiment.”
Another woman stood up and had two small boxes with wires wrapped around them stood up and approached the male student.
“She has two period pain simulator machines and she’s going to attach one to each of you. They are synced so that they will increase at the same time.” Cheryl explained.
“What the hell?” the man objected.
“If you’d like to back out now, you certainly can.” Cheryl offered and Helen knew that the boy would never back down.
In an attempt to be intimidating, he yanked off his sweatshirt and threw it onto the long black table. His blonde hair was now tousled, and his smirk was no longer quite as confident. The dark-haired woman quickly applied the pads for the clipped the small box on his waistband before doing the same thing to Helen.
“So, on bike number one, we have Mr. Cody, a male in his early twenties –“
“Twenty-two.” Cody cut in proudly.
“Alright, a twenty-two-year-old male, healthy and in shape. At least I’m assuming you work out to get the washboard abs.”
“Yes. I run track.” He sneered as he climbed into the seat of the bike.
“And on bike two, we have my wonderful stepmom, Helen.”
“Forty-four.” Helen said before her stepdaughter could ask.
“At slightly past twenty-nine she is approaching her next twenty-ninth birthday.” There was a ripple of laughter across the class. “Even more impressive than being young and healthy, Helen has given birth to six children, three of who will turn one in June.”
Cheryl did something on the laptop sitting next to her and a picture of her, her two half-brothers, Dean and Helens’ six children.
“Aren’t we adorable?” Cheryl asked looking over her shoulder as the room filled with oohs and awes.
They were both on the bikes and peddling. Helen at a steady pace, Cody going as hard as he could. With a nod from Cheryl, the nursing professor activated the machines and they both felt the first twinges. Cheryl did something else with her computer and the screens from the two stationary bikes appeared on the screen.
On the center screen between the other two, appeared a bone with small hashmarks along the length of it.
“Anyone tell me what this is?”
“A humerus?” someone offered.
“Well, yes.” Cheryl agreed with a small laugh. “But on a whole, what is this?”
After a few minutes of silence, someone else offered up, “A calendar.”
“Yes. And what are we tracking?”
“The moon!” another called out as the intensity on the period pain machines was increased.
“Why are we tracking the moon?”
“Hunting.” A male student offered. “To know when the moon would be full or new.”
“That is a good theory. But we can always look up and see where we are in the lunar cycle.” Cheryl pointed towards the ceiling.
“There’s not enough hash marks for the lunar cycle.” One of the women at the front declared.
“Why not?” Cheryl grinned.
“The lunar cycle is technically twenty-nine and a half days long. It used to be considered thirty days which is why most old calendars, sorry, ancient calendars only had thirty days per month.”
“Jewish calendars still do.” Cheryl agreed and the intensity increased a little more and Cody yelped and slowed down his peddling. “So, what happens ever twenty-eight days?”
“A woman’s period.” One of the other male students said called out.
“Yes. This bone was found in a cave with other signs that Neanderthals inhabited. But it was not near the trash pile. It was kept separate.”
As the intensity increased again, Cody stopped peddling all together and leaned over his bike, gasping for air.
“You okay, over there?” Cheryl asked him.
Wrapping his arms around his waist, he folded himself in half and shook his head no. “What the fuck?”
“You’re still in the normal range.” Professor Williams said.
“That’s normal?” Cody demanded.
“Mom?” Cheryl asked, looking over at Helen.
“I’ve had much worse.” The older woman replied as she continued to peddle.
The intensity was increased to the next level.
“I’m done!” Cody screamed and began yanking the leads off.
“How the hell is that normal?” Cody demanded.
Cheryl gave a small laugh. “A period is basically a woman’s body giving birth to an unfertilized egg.” She explained as the other professor removed the remaining leads from Cody before walking towards Helen who was getting off the other bike.
“As we’ve discussed before, most pack and herd animals are matriarchal. So much so, that when a male reached maturity, they were kicked out.” Clicking her laptop, a mural of Neanderthal hunters appeared on the screens.
“They would be allowed back in when they brought food, and to procreate. Anybody else see a trend?”
“Hunting parties.” The hunter offered smugly.