by Z. B Heller
“Hmm.” I thought carefully, not wanting to throw out information that could be used against me later.
“I’m from Maine originally. My parents are still there, but my sister Kelly lives here in Chicago. I have a son Dillion—”
“You have a son? So you’ve been married before?” Martha sat up straight.
“Actually, he was probed by aliens and they impregnated him,” Moxie said, breaking into the conversation. She took another breath to continue, but I squeezed her knee to calm her.
“Yes, I had previously been married, but my wife was killed in a car accident. Afterward Dillion and I moved to Chicago. Shortly after that I met Moxie; she was Dillion’s kindergarten teacher. Dillion loves her.” I smiled at Moxie and she beamed. “They’re great together.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your loss, Miles,” Steve injected. “But it sounds like Moxie brought happiness back into your and Dillion’s life.”
“Yes, sir. She most certainly has.” Moxie covered my hand with hers and we interlaced our fingers.
“That’s good to hear. I was always concerned that Moxie’s work with children would deter her from having children of her own. For a while there we thought she would be a spinster with a herd of cats.” Martha laughed, slapping her thigh. However, no one laughed with her.
“Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.” Moxie shot up from the couch, holding her hand to her mouth, and ran for the bathroom.
“While Moxie is in the bathroom, I’ll finish up dinner and we can meet in the dining room. Steve, I need your help in the kitchen.”
“Sure,” Steve replied stoically.
I walked to the bathroom and tapped on the door. “Moxie? You okay in there?”
“I’m deciding if it’s better to throw a body into Lake Michigan or dismember it and bury pieces in different places. However, I was leaning toward kerosene and a match.”
“No question, definitely go with the cement slippers and send the body overboard. No one in their right mind would go deep sea fishing in Lake Michigan. Can I come in?”
“No. I’m too busy self-loathing and melting Martha’s rose-shaped soap under hot water to look like testicles.”
“Good thing you’re being productive,” I said, chuckling.
The bathroom door opened and Moxie looked flushed. “I vote for telling the baby that it has no grandparents on my side and that I was born through Immaculate Conception.”
“Sweet! I always wanted to be married to the Messiah!” Moxie hit me in the shoulder playfully.
“If I’m the Messiah, let’s get The Last Supper over with.”
Moxie and I entered the dining room and took our seats across from Martha and Steve. The table was filled with things that I think were supposed to resemble food, but was definitely questionable. There was something that looked like potatoes and a green Jell-O mold with fruit in it.
“I make a fantastic brisket, Miles. Everyone who’s had it can’t wait to take leftovers home with them.” Martha beamed.
“Probably to use as mortar to build brick houses,” Moxie said under her breath.
Martha served a heaping amount of “brisket” on top my plate. Moxie took one look at my plate and turned green. This was quickly spiraling out of control. Moxie covered her mouth and pushed the chair back against the wall. She ran out of the room and into the kitchen. We could all hear her emptying the contents of her stomach.
“Moxie!” Martha yelled. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? Are you coming down with the flu? Maybe it’s a swine flu. Oh God, it’s Ebola!”
I heard the sink run and Moxie peeked her head back into the dining room. “We need to go back to the living room. I need to tell you guys something, but it can’t be in front of”—she waved her hand over the table—“that.”
“Umm, sure, baby girl,” Steve said, looking concerned. I wondered about Steve’s lack of commentary throughout this evening. The only possible explanation I could think was that Martha wouldn’t let him get in a word in edgewise. She always put her two cents in. Or more like a million cents in.
We all resumed our initial seats back in the living room, and I held Moxie’s hand for support.
“Moxie, was it the food? I cooked the brisket all day. I know it’s your favorite,” Martha said.
“I’m pregnant,” Moxie blurted out.
You could hear a pin drop. Both Martha and Steve sat in their chairs, looking at us like we told them we created the atomic bomb. Since that wasn’t enough of a shock, Moxie added Hiroshima on top of that.
“And we’re getting married.”
More silence filled the room. I leaned in close to Moxie and whispered, “I don’t think you’re going to need that cement, I think you just killed her.”
“I wouldn’t count her out yet. You know what happens when you kill the bad guy in video games?”
“No, what?”
“They come back bigger and stronger for round two.”
Finally Martha broke the silence. “Is he Jewish?”
“No, he’s not, Martha,” Moxie answered before I could.
“How are you going to raise the baby? Where are you going to live?” Martha continued, the hysteria in her voice was starting to rise.
“Martha, I think—”
“No, Steve. Let’s hear what they say.” Martha crossed her arms and waited.
“Generally, I think if you give it food and change its diaper occasionally, it should be in good shape for a while. But as soon as it becomes a toddler it’s going to be survival of the fittest,” Moxie said.
“You know what I meant, young lady. How are you going to raise a baby if you are Jewish and he isn’t?” Martha pointed her finger at me,
“Oh that’s easy,” Moxie said. “We’re going to raise it Druid.”
“Is that a combination of Jewish and something else?” Martha stood up from her chair.
“No, Druids worship trees. There is a nice little pine tree growing in Miles’s backyard. We might put some pews around it so we can pray.”
I swore a growl came from Martha, and I wondered if I should grab Moxie and duck for cover behind the couch.
“Steve! Say something. Your daughter is pregnant and marrying this Michael person.”
“It’s Miles!” Moxie yelled, jumping to her feet. I followed suit.
Steve stood out of his recliner and walked over to where Moxie and I were standing. I moved slightly in front of Moxie to protect her from the anything Steve would say to hurt her feelings. But instead he grabbed us both.
“Mazel tov, to you both.” He hugged us. “You seem to truly love each other, and I am thrilled to become a grandfather.”
Martha stood there for a long time eyeing both Moxie and I. Finally, she moved toward us and plastered on a smile so large that it would have made the Joker jealous.
“I suppose congratulations are in order,” she said, her demeanor changing from Snow Bitch to Glenda the Good Witch. “Welcome to the family, Miles.”
At that moment, I thought a better phrase would have been “Welcome to the Jungle.”
I knew I was going to get a big reaction from Martha, but I didn’t know exactly how it was all going to play out. I figured it was either going to be the start of World War III or she would excuse herself from the meal, go upstairs, and start measuring the guest room to fit a crib. I never knew with Martha. It was like going for sushi. You prayed the fish was fresh, only to find out it wasn’t, and you’re left sitting on the toilet with explosive diarrhea.
We were able to finish some of the dinner in the living room, keeping Martha’s brisket out of sight. I ate my mashed potatoes, because it was the only thing I seemed to tolerate. We resumed with light conversation and kept clear of all hot button topics which included: Miles not being Jewish, Miles’s deceased wife, how we planned on raising our child, and how I was going to fit into a designer wedding dress. I gave Miles the we served our time, let’s get out of here look.
“Mr. and Mrs. Summers, it
was a pleasure meeting you, but Moxie and I need to work tomorrow and we need to get back to Dillion,” Miles said politely, standing up and putting our dishes on the coffee table.
“Of course,” my dad said as he stood to walk us to the door. “Moxie, it must be reassuring knowing that you’re getting some practice with Dillion. He sounds like a great kid.”
“He hasn’t tried to run away or call Jerry Springer yet, so that’s a bonus, I guess,” I replied while putting on my coat.
I thought for sure that would spur a comment from Martha, but she was oddly quiet as we reached the door. My dad wrapped me in a hug and shook Miles’s hand; a final gesture of welcoming him to the family.
“You seem like a nice guy, Miles. I hope we can get to know each other some more since you’re my future son-in-law. We can go out. Golfing, perhaps?”
“I would like that. I’ll get your phone number from Moxie and we can set it up. Have a father to soon-to-be son-in-law chat over the links.”
“Maybe you can convince him to convert to Judaism.” Martha let out a small laugh, and I glared at her murderously. Miles opened the door, letting the cool air into the house. He held his hand to my lower back and guided me out the door.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Martha finally jumped in. She grabbed her own coat in a rush and followed us outside. I hoped she would apologize for her outburst earlier. I’m not a golden child, by any means, and she can dish it out to me all she wants, but attack my man and I’ll be on you like a crackhead getting her next fix. Minus the crack pipe and missing teeth.
We walked the small path leading from the house to the driveway, and I moaned at my stepmother’s clinking heels. “Martha, you didn’t have to walk us to the car. Last time I checked I was old enough to walk fifteen feet without guidance.”
“I came out here because I need to talk to you without your father around,” she said as she looked over her shoulder to make sure Dad hadn’t followed us out.
I shot Miles a look and my body tightened, waiting for a shit storm. Too bad I quit karate as a kid. I might need my ninja fighting skills like the Karate Kid. All I remembered was wax on, wax off. But Martha wasn’t a car, so that would get me nowhere in this situation.
Getting Martha alone had proven to be dangerous in the past because that’s when she was best at manipulating me. The fact she tried to have someone date me so he could convince me to lose weight really put a strain on our relationship. Not that we were tight to begin with. Instead of a small crack in the relationship, it had turned into the Grand Canyon from years of her treatment.
“There is some news that I need to tell you and it’s not good.” She wrung her hands together and looked at the ground.
I put up my hand to stop her. “Martha, if this is about how your spa consultant took too much hair off your bikini area, I think it can wait. Scratch that, I don’t ever want to know.”
“Moxie, your father has cancer.”
Time froze as soon as Martha said the word cancer. An overwhelming feeling of sickness washed over me. The last time I’d heard those words my mom found out she had breast cancer. The time spent in hospitals, chemo sessions, watching her get sicker by the day, finally losing the war, her funeral, strange people offering their condolences, and losing one of the most important people in my life. The memories hit me within those seconds of Martha saying the C word.
“What?” I finally was able to speak. Miles came to my side and put his arm around my waist up for support.
“Your father has cancer and he doesn’t want you to know. He found out not long ago, and he thought it would be better if you went about your daily lives and not worry about him,” she said, still focusing on the pathway.
“Want kind of cancer?” I heard Miles ask, but it sounded more like an echo speaking from the distance.
Martha paused as if she was already sharing too much information.
“Liver. Doctors aren’t sure yet how long he…” She paused again, but continued, “…has to live.”
“Moxie, he doesn’t want you to know. You can’t say a word to him. It would completely destroy him and I swore I wouldn’t say anything.”
“But I’m his daughter. Don’t you think he knows, seeing as how you followed us outside?” I managed to whisper. Part of me wanted to scream at her about agreeing not to say anything, but I didn’t have it within me. Martha and I may have had our issues, but this was also her husband dying.
“No, I told him earlier I was going to invite you and your boyfriend to come to Shabbat dinner. Hopefully, he thinks I’m talking to you about it now. I understand you’re hurt, but he’s doing it to protect you. The only reason I’m telling you now is because after finding out that you’re pregnant and getting married, I thought you might want to make the best memories you could with him in the time he has left.”
Tears soaked my cheeks and Miles pulled me closer. “I’m so sorry, sweetness.” He kissed my cheek and wiped away the tears with his fingers.
I didn’t know how to respond. I had too many receptors firing in my brain and couldn’t form words. I was going to lose my dad. Even though I consciously knew all lives would finally end, the thought of losing my dad this soon hurt my heart. Our baby would never get to know her or his grandfather and he wouldn’t get to spoil them rotten. I was going to be left without parents at the same time I was going to become a parent myself. I certainly didn’t think of Martha as a remaining parent, and I certainly didn’t think of her as the sole grandparent from my side of the family.
“Moxie, you have to promise me that you won’t say anything. He has to do it his way; it’s his dying wish. He’ll want to make sure that this wedding and pregnancy go perfect for you because he’s going to want you to embrace those memories.” She finally lifted her head and swayed from side-to-side. I understood why she looked so nervous; she was going against my dad’s wishes.
All I did was nod and buried myself deeper into Miles’s body. I craved his comfort because suddenly I felt that he was all that I had left.
“I’m going to take her home, Martha,” Miles said. “We can talk about this some more after she’s had some time to process it.”
“Yes, of course. Moxie, I just want you to remember to make this time the best that it can be and try to give him the most you can before he’s gone.”
“Thank you, Martha.” Miles somehow knew to speak for both of us because I couldn’t find the words.
Martha walked back to the house. When she'd followed us out, I was ready to pounce on whatever she was going to say. It was what I was used to doing with her, almost like it was ingrained in me. But I saw something different in the woman walking away. Yes, I was going to lose my father, but she was also going to lose a husband. For better or worse, no one should suffer through the feeling of losing someone you love. I knew in the end we all died. But that didn’t lesson the pain when someone was left to grieve for you. It made me look at Martha in a different light. Perhaps, it was going to be a loss that we would weather together.
Miles led me to the car. He opened the passenger seat and kissed my forehead before I slid in. I couldn’t tell you how long we’d been driving before I finally realized we’d actually left Martha and my dad’s house. My thoughts were a never-ending jumble. Why would he not want me to know? He decided that before he knew I was pregnant and getting married. Did he not think I was strong enough to handle it? Maybe he thought it would be too traumatic for me to know considering what Mom went through.
“I see the wheels in your head turning. What are you thinking?” Miles’s question brought me back into the present.
“I guess I just don’t understand. Why wouldn’t he tell me?” I stared out the windshield.
Miles shrugged. “I’m sure he’s trying to protect you. I would do anything to protect Dillion from any sorta pain.”
“You wouldn’t tell Dillion you were dying?” I looked at him, my eyes brimming with tears.
“I didn’t say that. But as a par
ent you try to protect your children from facing any sort of hurt. Especially if you are the cause of the hurt.”
“It must have been hard for Martha to have to tell me about Dad. I know that she was going against his wishes.” I looked back out the windshield.
“The jury is still out whether Martha is capable of feeling human emotion.”
I smiled and Miles took my hand. “It will be okay. You have me and amazing friends to lean on. We are just as much your family as your dad is.”
I supposed that was my one reprieve in this nightmare. I had Miles, Dillion, and this growing human taking up residence at the hotel Summers.
I made an emergency phone call to Dr. Gerber the next day and she agreed to see me. She only had morning appointments, so I would have to take the morning off work. I made sure I was armed with tasty treats to eat my anxiety away. I sat in her office and stared at the pale walls, unable to focus on anything but Martha’s words from last night.
My dad was dying.
I wasn’t naïve to think we are all immortal. I went through Mom’s death. But something felt different about this, and I couldn’t place what it was. I cried in Miles’s arms the night before and he suggested I see Dr. Gerber. He said he would be there to comfort me in anyway, but Dr. Gerber might be better suited to help me process my feelings.
The inner door to her office opened and out stepped Dr. Gerber looking put together and professional, as always. I felt like I was just trampled during the Running of the Bulls. She held the door open and waved me in. I had a favorite part of the couch that I liked to sit on. In my opinion I preferred the squishy end as opposed to worn end where everyone else poured out their dark souls. Dr. Gerber took her place in her chair, crossed her legs, and just waited.
“You’re not going to say ‘Good morning’ or ‘How was the traffic?’ ”
She drew in a breath through her nose and clasped her hands over her knees. “I figured when I got an emergency call that the usual pleasantries are probably not needed.
“So you’re going to sit there and stare at me?”
