First Comes Love: A Chronicles of Moxie Novel

by Z. B Heller

  “Please have a seat, you two. Can I get you something to drink? Some water?”

  “I’ll take a Stoli on the rocks, thanks.” I laughed.

  Dr. Gerber laughed, too. “Trust me, Moxie, it won’t be that bad. I just get into you head and tell you it’s all because Freud said we’re in love with our mommies.”

  “Well, Freud was wrong on all accounts in that case,” I replied.

  Miles and I sat on the couch across from Dr. Gerber, and he put his arm around my shoulders. It was his way of letting me know he was there for me, comforting me. And I loved him for it.

  “So, I do believe congratulations are in order? A baby and a wedding?”

  “Yup, we’re doing things a little backward,” I said, glancing at a floor and fidgeting with my hair.

  “I think Moxie is experiencing some angst when it comes to becoming a mom. As much as I try to reassure her, it doesn’t seem to matter. She’s amazing with Dillion and she’s a teacher. I wish she could see the strong woman I see.” He looked at me with a warm face and tucked my hair behind my ear. I think I melted in a puddle of goo. Clean up on aisle four!

  “Moxie, Dillion does speak very highly of you. But I can understand your fear, and it’s certainly normal to have fears about becoming a parent.”

  “It’s not just becoming a parent,” I said. “I don’t exactly have the best role model.”

  “You don’t have a good relationship with your mom?” Dr. Gerber asked.

  “My mom died from breast cancer when I was nine. My dad remarried when I was ten. I only have a handful of memories of Mom, most of them being wonderful. I just think the time spent with Martha has ruined me for all my future children.”

  “Martha is your stepmother?”

  “Stepmonster, yes.”

  Dr. Gerber chuckled. “I see. Miles, I would like some time with Moxie alone, and then we can meet together at the end. Is that okay?”

  Miles looked at me with hesitant eyes. I nodded to him once, and he kissed my head and left the room. I clasp my hands together and started to rock slightly.

  “Moxie, I want you to feel free to tell me whatever you’re comfortable discussing. I am not here to fix things. I’m just here to help you understand how your past can affect your current state and your future. However, I will not bullshit you and let you off the hook when things get tricky. If you want to move past your fears, you’re going to have to put in the work.”

  I sat there with my mouth hanging slightly open. “Do you say bullshit to clients who are children, too?”

  “No. I put it in more child friendly terms like doggy poo-poo.”

  Again, she gave me a warm smile, and I relaxed for the first time since walking into the office.

  “Why do you think Martha has an impact on what kind of mother you’re going to be?”

  “Geez, doc, you don’t kid around. Aren’t you supposed to ask me to rate my feelings on a scale of one to ten. One being in the middle of a graveyard and ten being naked on top of millions of dollars?”

  “Doggie poo-poo, Moxie.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “Martha and I have a very interesting relationship.”

  “I’ve figured.”

  “About six months after my mom died, my aunt convinced my dad to go to a singles mixer at our temple. She said it would be good for him. Those singles mixers are basically set up for gold diggers and soul suckers like Martha to swoop in on unsuspecting men and grab them with their talons. Ten months later they were married in the Rabbi’s office. Martha wasn’t previously married and had no children so she took me on as her pet project.”

  “And you didn’t feel you needed another mother?”

  “No, I just didn’t feel like I needed Martha. From the second Martha and I met, it was Clash of the Titans. I wasn’t the perfect daughter and she tried her hardest to make me fit the mold.”

  “How so?”

  I couldn’t help but snicker at the memories resurfacing. There were so many of them to pick from, but we only had an hour. “For my twelve birthday she picked me up from school and told me she was taking me for a surprise. I was actually excited, thinking maybe she’d take me to get my hair done or a mani-pedi.”

  “And?”

  “She took me to Jenny Craig and said for my birthday it was time to transform me into the pretty swan she knew I could be.”

  Dr. Gerber kept quiet, letting me continue.

  “When I was fourteen, she gave a boy a five dollar bill to kiss me during the snowball dance at Jeremy Swartz’s Bar Mitzvah.” I swallowed. “When I was sixteen and got my braces off, she asked the orthodontist what it would cost to wire my mouth shut to help me lose weight.”

  “So Martha has a bit of an issue with control?”

  “Dr. Gerber, how much did you pay for your education?”

  “Too much.”

  “Not enough because I could have told you Martha has control issues when I walked into the room and saved us some time.”

  She laughed. “Education is overrated.”

  “Hey, don’t say that to loud, I’ll lose my job.” I joined her in laughter.

  “Moxie, I want to do an exercise with you.”

  Dr. Gerber got up and walked over to her desk to get a pad of paper and a pen. She handed me the pad before sitting back down. “I want you to write a letter to the baby.”

  I looked at her in confusion. “A letter to the baby? And how am I supposed to deliver it? Send it up the coochie canal?”

  Dr. Gerber barked out a laugh. “Not exactly. In this letter I want to tell the baby about your fears of becoming a mother.”

  “That’s not a letter, that’s a whole novel. Maybe a series of novels called, What the Fuck Was I Thinking?”

  “Let’s just start with the prologue then.” She winked. “I’m going to give you some time alone while I go chat with Miles.”

  Dr. Gerber stepped out of the room and I stared at the pad of paper and pen. I suddenly felt like I was about to take an algebra test and forgot to study. Who was I kidding, I would never study for a math test. I hated math. I’d take the F and move on with my life. I decided that the best thing to do is just start writing.

  Dear, Thing in My Uterus

  Dear, Peanut-Sized Human Without Fingers or Toes

  Dear, Devil Spawn Making Me Vomit Every Twenty Minutes

  Hey Dude, What’s up?

  Yo! This is your mama

  Twenty minutes passed and both Miles and Dr. Gerber came back into the room. Miles reclaimed his position next to me and kissed my shoulder as he sat down.

  “So, how did it go?” Dr. Gerber asked

  “Umm, well, I got the greeting down.” I showed the paper to Dr. Gerber in which all I had written was hey.

  Dr. Gerber smiled. “Looks like we have a lot of work in front of us.”

  The Pregnancy Guide

  Month 3-4

  Women

  Good news! You’ve made it to the end of your first trimester. As you move through the third and fourth month of pregnancy, your fatigue and morning sickness will fade. You will notice that your midsection is growing to the size of a grapefruit and you might start to feel a fluttering or bubbling feeling which is the first indication of the baby’s movement. Food cravings might start to appear, but be careful because heartburn could cause some discomfort. Your hormones start to stabilize which means you will tend to have less mood swings. Some women start to feel their sex drive returning, but don’t be too hard on yourself if the desire to have sex is still unappealing.

  Men

  Do you feel lately that your penis is going to shrivel up and die? Or do you have blisters on your palms from masturbating to much. Yes, we understand that you barely remember what your partner’s vagina looks like, but have no fear! This is the time where you just might get lucky. Try providing her with the items she craves, even if it’s pickles dipped in horseradish. Hey, it’s not your digestive system being destroyed. Step up and be the domestic powerhouse and offer
to clean up the house. But watch out for the drool. Man, I woke up the other morning in a swimming pool and that’s after not sleeping all night because of her snoring. Did you know that a woman can grow a third nipple during this time? A THIRD NIPPLE! And I’m not talking about the cool kind that you can suck and play with. Wait, weren’t we talking about finally seeing her vagina again?

  I stood in front of the house where Moxie grew up. Well, at least from when she was ten years old. Martha insisted they find a new home after she married Moxie’s dad. She said they needed a house where they could start over as a new family. Moxie later told me Martha swore she heard the ghost of Moxie’s mom in her old house telling her what a bitch she was for marrying her husband and raising her daughter. Moxie then confessed it was really her voice Martha heard. She had made a recording of her voice on her boombox and hid the stereo in places where Martha wouldn’t find it.

  The house was in the northwest suburbs of Chicago. It looked like your average house, on an average street. The outside was pretty unassuming with white siding, black shutters, and a pathway that led up to the front door. Moxie once told me that Martha complained about the house they ended up in, saying that it could have been more like the house where Janice Lowenfield lived. Janice’s husband was also fucking loaded.

  Moxie said the neighborhood was ninety percent Jewish, and when someone who wasn’t Jewish moved in, the people in the neighborhood adopted them, deeming them Jews through osmosis. They were then expected to attend all major Jewish holiday meals.

  Moxie looked a little peaked. “Are you okay? Are you feeling sick to your stomach?”

  “No. I feel Martha sickness and dread because I know what’s waiting for us inside of there.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Sad and decrepit beef,” she said solemnly as if she were announcing someone’s death.

  “Now, now. We don’t need to start calling Martha names.” I chuckled, hoping to lighten Moxie’s mood. I know this was the last thing she wanted to do, especially since I wasn’t Martha’s first choice of a husband. But Moxie did love her dad, and she wanted him to know he was going to be a grandpa. I asked Moxie what the baby was going to call Martha. Her answer was simple. Devil Woman.

  Moxie’s expression became distant, almost as if she were in a daze. “Within those walls is the poorest excuse of Jewish delicacy. Many challah’s met their death in there, along with matzo ball soup. Children’s cries can still be heard in the distance because of the failed blintz and kugel.”

  “Is it worse then gefilte fish?”

  Moxie refocused and met my eyes with her curious ones. “How do you know about gefilte fish? You’re from Maine.”

  “There are Jews in Maine.”

  “That’s like finding a four leaf clover in a sea of dandelions,” she said as she squeezed her lips together to hide a laugh.

  “So, what’s so horrifying in there?” I pointed to the house, knowing that leaving Dillion with my sister was the best choice.

  “Whenever there is a special occasion Martha makes brisket,” she said.

  “Fantastic, I love brisket. I fail to see the issue.”

  “I usually do too. But Martha’s brisket is like having ox testicles sitting in elephant dung gravy.” She stuck her tongue out, pretending to gag.

  “Well, doesn’t that sound appetizing.”

  “We’ll have to make a mandatory McDonalds run after we leave.”

  Just as I was about to argue the fact that McDonalds probably also used ox testicles, the front door swung open. A petite woman with short brown hair styled like a football helmet stood waiting to tackle. Martha.

  “There they are!” She squealed, her hands clutched together and shaking. She bounced in place, looking like a three-year-old needing the bathroom.

  “Hey, Martha,” Moxie said dryly.

  “My daughter and her handsome beau have come home.” She reached for a hug.

  Moxie squeezed my hand so tight I thought she’d cut off circulation. She loathed it when Martha referred to her as her daughter. I shook my hand loose, opting to wrap my arm around Moxie’s shoulders to avoid losing it to nerve damage. Martha embraced us both. I gave a small hug in return, while Moxie kept her arms to her side.

  “Come in, come in. Let me see you. Your father is so thrilled you’re here.” She waved us into the house and closed the door behind us.

  Walking into the house, I was blasted with 1980s nostalgia. There was Formica everywhere and the walls were painted a light peach. A piece of art that contained different color paint splashes lined the walls and the carpets were a cream plush. I felt as if I’d find my old stonewashed jeans and Member’s Only jacket.

  “So this is the boy that stole our Moxie’s heart.” Martha took my arms and spread them out, inspecting me for defects.

  I wanted to remind her that she was the one who tried her hardest to make sure Moxie ended up with someone else, but I put the thought away and placed my arm around Moxie’s shoulders.

  After letting me go she went after Moxie. She stood with her arms firmly planted to her sides while Martha caged her in like an animal.

  “One of the great things about hugging Moxie is that there’s always lots of her to hug,” Martha said in a sickening sweet voice. She let go of Moxie and tapped her nose before turning and walking into the kitchen.

  Moxie pulled a Norman Bates and slashed her invisible knife in the air behind Martha. I shook my head, not at Moxie but at Martha’s backhanded comment. I took Moxie’s hand again, even though I feared loss of blood circulation, it was important she knew I was there to support her. This was the last place she wanted to be.

  “Steve, Moxie and her boyfriend are here,” Martha called from the kitchen. It irked me that she wouldn’t call me by name. I was just known as the “boyfriend” as if I were temporary. She was in for one hell of a shock. My dislike of Martha stemmed from two issues, both Moxie related. First and foremost I didn’t like the woman by proxy. She has been horrible to Moxie over the years. The stories I’d heard from Moxie about things Martha did to her made me cringe. Anyone, who tried to hurt the woman I desperately loved was an automatic negative on my list. But a few months ago was when my distaste really grew.

  Martha had planned out Moxie’s life down to who she thought she should date. She had set her up with a guy named David because he was educated, Jewish, and rich. At that time I was confused over Dillion’s mental health but willing to open my heart to Moxie. I couldn’t stay away if I tried. In the end, David had an ulterior motive. He wanted to use Moxie as his weight loss guinea pig. Since Martha had such an issue with Moxie’s weight, if she ended up with David, then in Martha’s mind, it would have killed two birds with one stone.

  Clunking sounds came from the stairs as Moxie’s dad came down the stairs. Moxie had his blue eyes and some of the similar facial features.

  “Hi, baby girl.” He gathered her into a hug and kissed the top of her head.

  “Hey, Dad. What happened to the happy fat that surrounded the middle?” She patted his belly, and he let out an oomph.

  “Martha’s got me on a diet. Seems my cholesterol is a little high,” Steve said, rubbing his belly.

  I stuck my hand out. “Hello, Mr. Summers. I’m Miles Dane.”

  Steve adjusted his glasses and took my hand in a firm handshake. “Miles, it’s a pleasure meeting you. Thank you for bringing my little girl home for a visit. It’s been a while.” There was a look in his eyes that I couldn’t place, maybe sadness or regret?

  I was pleased to see how warm Moxie’s dad was to her, and I thought Moxie would be closer to him if it weren’t for Martha. Moxie’s theory was that Steve never had gotten over the loss of her mother and remarried because he didn’t know how to take care of himself and because Moxie needed a mother figure. I personally thought Moxie would have been better off being raised by wolves. But there was something kind in Steve’s eyes, and I could tell he truly loved his daughter.

  “Everyon
e, go sit in the living room. I’ll bring out something to nosh on while dinner is finishing up.”

  We all followed each other into the living room and sat awkwardly around a vegetable tray.

  “We are very excited to meet you, Michael.” Martha placed her hands on her lap.

  “It’s Miles,” Moxie corrected, her voice cold as ice.

  “Oh, Miles. I’m so sorry. I thought Moxie said Michael over the phone. Miles is an interesting name. Are you named after someone?

  “No, my parents just liked the name,” I said, trying to maintain my fake grin.

  “Actually, he was found on a pig farm and his parents had to drive miles to get him. Hence the name,” Moxie deadpanned. I bowed my head and pressed my lips together to suppress my laughter.

  “Moxie, that’s not a very nice thing to say. You should apologize.” Martha scolded her like a child.

  “Martha, you are absolutely right. Miles, would you like me to get on my knees to apologize?”

  Martha’s mouth hung open and Stephen snickered. I let out a cough. Damn vixen. I knew she was trying to get a rise out of me and by that, I meant a rise in my pants.

  “Are you sure you can handle our Moxie, Miles?” Steve’s brows rose as he nodded in Moxie’s direction.

  “I think she is my perfect balance, Steve. She gets as good as she gives.”

  “You know, when I was young we would have gotten a spanking if we ever talked like that to someone,” Martha said.

  “Then you don’t know what you’re missing,” Moxie said back to Martha with a bright smile, batting her eyelashes.

  I raised my brow, hopefully conveying that if Moxie kept on being a tease, she would really have to get on her knees to apologize.

  Moxie raised her brow back at me, answering that she was fully aware what could be coming her way. I squeezed her knee, my dick hardening just thinking about Moxie on her knees.

  “Miles, tell us a little bit about yourself.” Martha’s voice broke my thoughts, which sent my dick back to hide in its turtle shell.