The Chronicles of Moxie

by Z. B Heller

  “I could see that. He’s a smart little boy,” I admitted.

  “He gets it from his mom. She was also very intelligent, and was able to stay with him at home when he was a baby. I told her it was ok to go back to work after he was born and we’d get a nanny, but she insisted on being with him.”

  My heart faltered. I envisioned a woman cradling Dillion and singing nursery rhymes.

  “I don’t know if I would be able to be a stay-at-home mom. I might get a little psychotic. But then again, I work with kindergartners, so I think I jumped on the crazy train a long time ago,” I joked.

  “She was a great mom,” he added. “I just hope I can continue teaching him all the values that she started to introduce to him.”

  “I’m sure you’re doing a fine job of that. He’s already turning out to be a strong, confident man, like his daddy.”

  “Are you calling me strong and confident?” His eyes lit up and he sported a cocky grin.

  Oh, shit, I needed to backtrack. The last thing this man needed was an ego boost. But instead I said nothing. He started to massage my feet and ankles over the blanket. It felt amazing and I let out a little sigh.

  “So, Moxie, tell me something about you. How does that mind of yours work? I’m sure there are many layers of personality under that sarcasm and wit.”

  He continued rubbing, but now moved towards my cave as if he was kneading me for information. I really didn’t like talking about myself; it always made me feel strange. Although Ryan would argue the point and say that I was my favorite topic of conversation.

  “So you noticed the different personalities? Damn, I thought I had them all under control. My medication must need adjustment,” I grinned.

  I was trying to avert the conversation by cracking jokes. But the way Miles was looking at me told me that he wanted to see my serious personality. I paused for a moment, thinking about the different aspects of my life I didn’t mind sharing.

  “I was born in Chicago. So I would say I would qualify to be a B.L.D.”

  “What’s a B.L.D?” he questioned.

  “Born, lived and died.”

  “You’ve never gone anywhere but Chicago? How can you possibly predict this is where you will end up staying in the future?”

  “I didn’t say that I haven’t been anywhere but Chicago. Just that I was born here, lived mainly in the area, and will probably die here. My dad and stepmom live here, and since I’m an only child, my stepmom has now dedicated her entire life to making sure I get married and pump out some kids so she can create a new race of human beings made in her own image,” I added sarcastically.

  I wanted to change the subject off me. “So, are you happy with the move?”

  “I think so. Once we get things settled I would like to move closer to the suburbs, so Dillion can have a backyard to run around.”

  “And that dog that you promised Dillion,” I added.

  “Oh, and the dog, of course.” He smiled. “I think Dillion misses having the openness we had in Maine.”

  “I’m sure it was very open, considering about five people live there,” I teased.

  “You’d be surprised. Portland is pretty big and it attracts lots of tourists. Plus they have a cool art district.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s appealing to you, since you’re an artist. I, however, stop my creative nature with finger paints.”

  “Maybe, but you would make a great model.”

  I blushed a color red that I’m sure Miles could identify on his art palette.

  “So your stepmom doesn’t believe that you can take care of yourself?” he asked, trying to swing the conversation back into my direction.

  “No, I think she’s afraid that I’m very happy taking care of myself and I don’t need a man to do that.” I threw him a wry smile and a wink.

  The fire came back to his eyes. “Can you take care of yourself?”

  I had a sense that the conversation was about to take a different turn altogether.

  “I certainly can. In fact, I like to take care of myself every night before I go to bed. Being a teacher is hard work and I like to treat myself.” I wasn’t exactly sure when this conversation went from being innocent chat to devious innuendoes.

  “And how exactly do you like to treat yourself?” His hands were now moving up to my thighs and massaging them.

  “There are several things that I do to unwind,” I continued.

  “I bet you have a whole regimen you go through. Why don’t you share your secrets, because I might want to try them as a nightly routine.”

  Holy hell. I didn’t know if the heat I was feeling was from the conversation or if it was the food poisoning. I couldn’t believe that I was heading down this road with him. He was my student’s parent. Part of me didn’t want to cross that line. The other part of me said fuck it. The second part was in the lead by a long stretch.

  “Well, my evening starts out with a nice glass of wine and a soak in the tub. I make sure there are lots of bubbles in the bath because I like the way it feels on my skin.” I could tell that divulging my evening routine was making an impact on him, as I could feel something hard under my calves. “Then I get out of the tub and dry myself off, making sure I get all the little crevasses so my skin doesn’t dry out.”

  “We certainly can’t have that happen.” He took his rough hands and put them inside my pant legs, rubbing them on my skin.

  “Then, I slip into my soft sheets, feeling the way they mold to my skin. They’re so soft and smooth.” By this time his flag was at full mast, straining against my legs.

  “Do you wear anything to bed, or do you enjoy the comforts of your bed bare?”

  “I don’t believe in buying clothes only to sleep in them. In my opinion, it’s a waste of money.”

  “I wholeheartedly agree.” His eyes continued to burn.

  “When I’m really stressed I treat myself to a massage,” I continued.

  “But no one is here to massage you,” he said, knowing full well that wasn’t what I meant.

  “I told you, I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I’m fully capable of doing it myself.”

  He stopped rubbing my legs and put them on the floor. I sat up straight on the couch and he knelt in front of me. He put his hands on either side of me on the couch and leaned in close.

  “But isn’t it more rewarding when there is someone else there to massage you?” he whispered.

  “Not when they don’t know how to do it correctly. I like a very specific type of massage. It can be hard to master,” I retorted.

  “I have been known to give great massages.” He bent his head towards my neck and started grazing his teeth lightly over my skin. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, giving him better access.

  “In fact, I’ve had people beg me to give them a massage. They tell me I have magic fingers.” He blew air onto my neck, sending chills running down my body and hardening my nipples. The feeling between my legs was starting to become problematic.

  He pulled back his head to look at me. He lifted his hand and stroked it against my jaw. His eyes were the color of a dark stormy ocean and I was about to be capsized by them. He started to lower his mouth to mine and I was anticipating what he would taste like. I fantasized his lips were soft and strong, but fierce when he wanted them to be. I put my hand on his chest, slowly moving it down to feel his abs. I counted the muscles as my hand slipped down. This man had a washboard that I could have done my laundry on. I reached his silver belt buckle when I heard a buzzing sound.

  Miles closed his eyes tight. I knew that noise was coming from his pocket.

  “I can officially say this is the first time I heard it make a noise,” I said in a sarcastic tone.

  He pulled back and reached for his phone in his pocket. He looked at the screen and touched it to answer the call.

  “Yeah,” he said in a clipped tone. I could tell that it was a woman’s voice, but I couldn’t hear anything that was being said. Miles’s
eyes left mine as he sat back on his heels.

  “I had to go out for a bit,” he said into the phone. “No, I didn’t think about that,” he continued speaking to the female.

  How could I be so stupid? He had another woman calling him as he was trying to get into my pants. I wished I could will myself to vomit on command, because I was starting to feel he needed another dose. I stood up and stepped over him while he still listened on the phone.

  “I’m coming home. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  I started to fume as I kicked off the blanket and took my glass of Ginger Ale into the kitchen to throw it down the sink. Miles closed his phone and stood up.

  “I have to go,” he stated dryly. I didn’t say anything, I just stood with my back to him.

  “Moxie, there are some things I can’t talk about. It’s not anything you did.”

  That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I whipped around, my eyes like daggers.

  “Anything I did?” I bit out. “If I remember correctly, you came here to play Mr. Nice Guy Nurse. I didn’t ask you to come over. You can take your Ginger Ale and crackers with you as you leave my apartment. I am able to take care of myself and I certainly don’t need, nor want, your help.” I was pretty sure he understood the message I was trying to send within that statement.

  “Keep the crackers and the drink; you might need them later,” he said quietly and headed to the door to let himself out.

  No goodbye, no feel better, nothing. I took the stack of crackers and threw them at the door. They exploded all over the floor, but I didn’t even care. I stood with my fists balled up, feeling frustrated both sexually and mentally. I only had one choice at that point. I had to go and take care of myself.

  Chapter Ten

  “Who needs a gallon size tub of mayonnaise?” asked Renee, as we cruised down the isle of Costco.

  “Well, my grandmother used to make enough tuna salad to feed an army,” I said.

  “Why does anyone need that much tuna salad?”

  “We’re Jews, Renee. If we don’t have enough food for everyone to eat, plus leftovers, we risk being written into the book of death at Yom Kippur.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The one Jewish holiday that all Jews make sure they attend to repent, because if they don’t, they get struck by lightning or something.”

  “So, it’s kind of like Easter.”

  “Sort of. Except without the bunnies and the egg-shaped chocolates.”

  It had been a week since my date with David and the nightmare of Miles. I hadn’t heard from either of them, but I couldn’t really act surprised. I was not so optimistic as to think that I would ever hear from David, even though he genuinely seemed like he wanted to attempt a re-do. However, I was avoiding Miles at all costs. He hadn’t been in to drop Dillion off at school, for which I was very thankful.

  “Will you stop moping?” Renee looked at me like a sad bassett hound with puppy eyes.

  “About which part? The part where I showed David the contents of my intestines, or the part were Miles was making his move and got called to the major leagues?”

  “I’m sure there was a reason for it.”

  “Oh, I’m sure there was a reason. It’s called he already has a relationship, but is trying to sneak around with the sexy school teacher. Isn’t that what all guys fantasize about?”

  “Maybe if you were wearing a short plaid skirt, a white blouse tied at your navel and your boobs hanging out.”

  “Damn, I should have worn that. But it’s at the dry cleaners’.”

  We smiled at each other and I knew that Renee was doing her best to make me feel better. Since she had scored a victory touchdown with Raj, she’d been all hearts and rainbows coming out of her ass. To make matters worse, we were at the store to get supplies for the all-school camp-out that was planned by the devil herself.

  “And who came up with the fine idea of a bunch of kids sleeping in tents in the back of the school?” Renee inquired.

  “That would be the lovely Marsha Simmons.”

  I had to put my hostility of sleeping outdoors to the side in order to concentrate on getting the supplies we were assigned to pick up. Five large boxes of gram crackers, thirty bags of marshmallows, and enough Hershey bars to put everyone in a diabetic coma.

  Since I live alone, there is certainly no need for me to buy in bulk, but the membership is nice when it comes to getting supplies for my classroom. But there was another reason why being a card-carrying member of Costco had its advantages, and that was the samples.

  I take my sampling very seriously. I calculate which way I should rotate around the store in order to hit all major food groups. I usually start by the produce, make my way through the meats, through the refrigerated sections, and finish by the personal heath products. There are magical people in white coats and hairnets that line the aisle, asking you to try their little piece of heaven.

  Renee and I were at the start of one of the frozen food aisles when I saw one of my Goddesses offering up some meatballs at the end. I spotted one left on the tray and I started to panic, but I was not too far off. Then, out of nowhere, a woman and her child came up to the sample tray and began to ask the server questions.

  No, no, no. This will not happen. I started running like I was trying to beat Jackie Joyner-Kersee in the Olympics. I got up to the post and grabbed the last meatball on the tray.

  “Hey, what are you doing? That was going to be for my kid!” the mother screamed.

  I bent down and looked the girl in the eye. “How old are you, sweetie?” I asked in my very sweet kindergarten teacher voice.

  “I’m five,” she responded.

  “Well, I’m going to teach you a very important lesson right now that you will be able to use for the rest of your life. You can’t always get what you want.” And with that, I popped he meatball in my mouth.

  The mother started swearing under her breath while dragging her daughter behind her. The Sample Goddess looked at me, wondering if she needed to call security. “What?” I said, still chewing my meatball. Renee grabbed my arm and pulled me away with the cart.

  Later that afternoon, Renee and I got back to my place and I was ready to relax a bit. I told Ryan that I would go over to his place tonight and watch Hello Dolly for the thousandth time. I grabbed a drink for Renee and I from the fridge and we sat down on the couch and flipped on the TV.

  “Want to watch Grey’s from the other night?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I replied. But, in truth, I didn’t even pay attention. I kept thinking about the other night and the time Miles and I spent on this couch trying to introduce our naughty bits to each other.

  I didn’t understand why he kept running off every time he got a phone call from that woman. Actually, scratch that. If that woman was his girlfriend, I completely understood why he didn’t want to get caught. But why would he be here, being so sweet, bringing me Ginger Ale and crackers, if he had someone to be with that night? I heard my cell phone play Girls Just Want to Have Fun (hey, don’t judge). It was a number I didn’t recognize.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Hey, Moxie, it’s David.”

  The feeling of embarrassment came rushing back to me as soon as he said my name.

  “Hi, I…umm, wasn’t expecting you to call.”

  “I was out of town for business this week and was crazy busy.”

  “Oh, you don’t owe me an explanation. I was planning on moving to a remote area were they speak through interpretive dance only anyways.”

  “Well, I’m sure I could have just asked your stepmom where you were.” I could actually hear him smile. “Are you busy?”

  “Just got back from Costco with a friend. We’re getting ready for an all-school camp-out and apparently they need me to make sure we have enough buns for our hot dogs.”

  “Well, I’m sure you can provide for some very nice buns.” I could hear the innuendo slipping off his tongue. I felt flushed and k
new I was going to have to make a stop at the personal hygiene section to see if vibrators came in bulk as well. “Are you available to catch a movie and dinner this weekend?”

  I looked at Renee, who’d been eyeing me during this entire conversation. She nodded her head enthusiastically, agreeing to David’s plans.

  “Sure,” I said into the phone. “We have the school camp-out Friday night, so I’ll be available on Saturday. Is sometime in the afternoon ok with you?” I asked.

  “Great, I’ll pick you up then.”

  “Ok, great.” I didn’t really know how to end the conversation. Do I say thanks for gracing me with your presence? See ya later, honey? Hasta la vista? So I went with a simple “Bye.”

  I tapped the phone to close the call and I could see Renee ready to burst at the seams because she wanted to say something.

  “What?” I looked at her.

  “That was so sweet!” she said in an annoying sing-song voice.

  “Someone’s paying him off,” I said. “I bet Martha wrote out a nice check to him in order for him to take me out.”

  “Moxie, isn’t it possible that someone can genuinely want to be with you?” she retorted.

  “Oh, it’s possible. But most of them have either broken out of jail, need a safe place to hide their crack, or have temporary amnesia and won’t remember who the hell I am in the morning.”

  “A guy once did that to me,” Renee said as she let out a little huff.

  “What? Forget who you were in the morning?”

  “No, he wanted to hide crack in my place.”

  “Wow, you really pick the winners, don’t you?” I said.

  “He said he needed a cool place to put the powder sugar for his mom’s cake.”

  I decided that I had way too much in my own head to try to dissect what the hell Renee’s thought process was.

  “So did you know that Miles is one of the parent volunteers for the camp-out?” Renee said as if she was making everyday conversation. She knew everything that had gone on in my apartment and how he ran out on me, leaving me feeling like a dog in heat.

  “You don’t say? Maybe a bear will come and eat his penis right off his body while he sleeps.”