by Z. B Heller
There was a knock on the door and my heart immediately sped up. Was it possible that Miles would come by after all this time? Ok, it had been three weeks, but it felt like months had gone by. I went to answer the door, and if it was someone trying to sell me a religion, I was going to tell them that Jesus was already here and possessed me with the power to send them to hell.
“You look pathetic!” Ryan said as I opened the door. “And don’t you ask who’s at the door before answering? I could have been a murderer.”
“I would accept a murderer, unless you were one that sold the word of God.”
“You’ve really lost it, you know that, don’t you?” he said as he glided into my apartment.
“Please, come in,” I said with sarcasm.
“Bitch, please. I have a free pass to come into this place whether you like it or not.”
“How may I be of service to you, Lord Ryan?”
He turned around to eye me, then he stood and opened his arms wide as an invitation. I sauntered over to him and buried my head in his neck, taking a deep breath of his smell. He wrapped his large arms around me and kissed the top of my head.
“You ok?” he whispered.
“If I told you I wasn’t, would you have a magical cure?”
“The only thing that I could possibly get you that is magical is some ’shrooms.”
“I’m allergic to fungus.”
“You went out with that guy Chris and he had fungus growing on his tongue, remember?”
“He had a case of thrush on his tongue.”
“Yeah, wasn’t it from licking his own balls?”
I let out a belly laugh. It felt good. Ryan had a special way of making me feel better. The feeling didn’t rival that of being with Miles, but I would accept it nevertheless. I decided to ask some questions I knew I didn’t want answers to, but I couldn’t help it.
“How is he?”
Ryan and I moved to the couch and sat down. I could tell that he was a little uncomfortable with me asking. But since Ryan saw him at work, he was instantly put in the middle.
“He’s fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yeah.”
“What does that mean, fine?”
“It means he’s fine.”
“Ryan, is he moping around the office? Is he out partying with friends? Is he bringing girls home and fucking them, pretending they’re me?”
“First of all, I wouldn’t have a fucking clue whom he’s bringing home because, against popular belief, I don’t stalk him. Second, I don’t follow him at the office because I do this thing called work and he sits in a different part of the department.”
“Well, what kind of friend are you? You’re supposed to be spying on him for me.”
“Moxie, I know you’re hurt and upset, but other people have lives going on and we can’t stitch back together what you broke.”
I stood there stunned.
“What did you say?” I asked him, hoping I’d misheard him the first time. “Are you saying this is all my fault?”
“No, there is equal fault here. But you let your insecurities get the better of you. There was no reason that you should have gone to see David. You had a good thing going and you fell back into old habits. You let your stepmother win this war.”
“What does my stepmom have to do with this?” I barked.
“She has everything to do with this, Moxie. You claim to love how you look and that you are comfortable with who you are. But when Martha plants one seed of doubt in your mind, you destroy any self confidence you have.”
“She isn’t the one who said those awful things to me Ryan, David did.” I was really becoming angry with this situation.
“David might have said the words, but it was really Martha who could have been saying them. She has never been happy with who you are. David was just a way to get at you.”
Tears started to leak from my eyes. Ryan was right, it was really Martha who hurt me and David was the way in which see did it. Sure, I needed to take responsibility for my own actions, which meant the part about not trusting Miles. I knew there had to be a lot to do with my relationship with my stepmother, but those were not emotions that I could deal with at that moment.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I slumped into Ryan’s open arms.
He kissed the top of my head. “It’s ok. I want you to be happy and you need to know that you are beautiful inside and out. Really start believing in yourself, Moxie, and relationships will bloom into something beautiful and honest.”
“Thanks, Dr. Phil,” I said, mocking him.
He changed his voice to a deep southern drawl, like Dr. Phil’s. “Know you, young lady, better snap out of it or I’ll put you over my knee and spank you.”
“I didn’t know that Dr. Phil was into BDSM,” I said in a full-blown laugh.
Ryan ended up staying while we ordered pizza and watched the Keeping up With the Kardashians on TV. It was a dirty secret that Ryan and I watched the show. I always talked about how much I hated them, but I could never miss out on a single episode. After we cleaned up dinner and Ryan left, I went to my laptop and turned it on. I checked my email and Facebook like always, and then went to the Meet Me website. I didn’t know what I was doing there; I didn’t have any interest in meeting anyone. But there was a small part of me that was curious about this Michael guy. A bolt of guilt hit me instantly, thinking about Miles.
I saw that Michael was online and I hovered over the chat box, wondering if I should send him a message. Before I knew what I was doing, I hit send.
Moxie: Hi.
A few minutes passed and I scolded myself for being such an idiot and messaging him. I was about to close my laptop when I heard a chime.
Michael: Hey there.
Moxie: Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you if you were in the process of doing something. You’re probably chatting with multiple girls at once.
Michael: No, I was just cleaning up after dinner. I’ve only contacted you, so no other chats going on.
Oh, I wasn’t expecting that comment. Why did he only contact me? My profile was the least inviting. Maybe this guy was into Goth chicks who lived in dark rooms and ate rats for snacks. Michael responded before I could type anything.
Michael: So what are you doing?
Moxie: Getting ready for beer pong.
Michael: Really? Did you know that I am the national beer pong champ?
Moxie: I’m pretty sure every frat boy in the country tries to claim that title.
Michael: Yeah, but they say it to try to get into girls’ pants.
Moxie: And you?
Michael: Saying it to get into girls’ pants ;)
Moxie: So Michael, what is it that you do for a living?
Michael: I work with my hands.
Moxie: Ok, now THAT sounds like a line a guy would use to get into a girl’s pants.
Michael: Hmm. How about I like to create things?
Moxie: Interesting. Cryptic, but interesting.
Michael: And you?
Moxie: I teach elementary school.
Michael: I bet you make a great teacher.
I paused to look at that last sentence. This guy didn’t know a thing about me. It was pretty presumptuous for him to think I would be a good teacher.
Michael: So you like kids?
I thought of Dillion and how his sweet smile would greet me in the mornings.
Moxie: Yeah, I guess I do.
Michael: So earlier you were telling me about a guy that broke your heart.
Suddenly, we went from fun banter to serious discussion. I didn’t know how much I wanted to share with this stranger.
Moxie: What makes you think he broke my heart? I could have been the one to stomp all over his internal organs.
I felt myself getting defensive.
Michael: I have no doubt in my mind that you did. Something tells me you might have ripped out his heart and served it back to him on a silver platter.
Moxie: He kin
d of deserved it.
Michael: How so?
Moxie: He didn’t trust me.
Michael: He didn’t trust you or you didn’t trust yourself?
Whoa. I looked around the room to see if there was a secret camera hiding somewhere. This guy was hitting things a little too close to home. But for some weird reason, I continued.
Moxie: It was a bit of both. He didn’t trust in the fact that I was falling in love with him and I didn’t want to be with anyone else. And I didn’t trust myself to let him reciprocate the feelings. I had self-esteem issues and I thought he wouldn’t understand.
Michael: Did you even give him a chance to try to understand?
Moxie: No, I didn’t. He was a good guy. I should have given him the chance. I think he would have.
Michael: Well, this guy sounds like a complete asshole for letting you go without a fight.
I couldn’t help but smile.
Michael: I know this sounds forward, but I would really like to meet you for coffee. No expectations, I can tell you’re still healing. You seem like a nice person to know. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful.
My first reaction was to say no and snap the computer closed, but there was just something about this guy that drew me in. Maybe it was because I was feeling lost without Miles and I was looking for something to fill the void. I couldn’t see a reason why I couldn’t meet him one afternoon for coffee.
Moxie: Sure, we can meet for coffee.
Michael: How’s this Sunday at one?
Moxie: That works. Anywhere special?
Michael: There is a coffee shop across from the Art Institute on Michigan Avenue and Adams.
My stomach dropped a little. The Art Institute was one of the places I was supposed to go with Miles and Dillion. I didn’t want that reminder, but I also didn’t want to be a wet blanket when this guy was going out of his way to be nice to me.
Moxie: Ok, well, I’ll see you then, I guess.
Michael: I’m looking forward to it.
I shut off my computer and got ready to go to bed. But I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling, feeling that I was somehow betraying someone who was not even mine to betray.
Chapter Twenty Three
I woke up Sunday morning feeling slightly anxious. I still wasn’t sure about meeting Michael for coffee. I needed some words of wisdom, so I called the person who put me in this predicament in the first place.
“Hello?” Renee answered in a sleepy tone.
“I need help.”
“I’m glad that you have finally come to that conclusion. Do you want me to see if I can call the rehab place where all the stars go?” She laughed.
“Listen, sloppy tits, it’s your fault that I’m having a panic attack.”
“What happened?”
“I’m going on a date. Well, not a date, a get-together. With a stranger,” I said, speaking so fast my words were combining.
“Wait, slow down. You’re going on a date?”
“Sort of. This guy Michael I met on Meet Me asked me to get a coffee with him.”
“Wow. That’s amazing. I thought you told me you wrote a bunch of shit for the profile.”
“What? I didn’t tell you that. How do you know I did that?”
“Umm.” There was a short pause on the phone. “I just know you so well, and I know that is something you would do.”
“Well, I put something on there so you would get off my back. I certainly wasn’t planning on meeting with anyone. But this guy messaged me anyway and we talked a little bit. I told him I wasn’t looking for anything and that I just got out of a…thing.”
“A thing?”
“Well, Miles and I were never officially a couple, so it was a Thing.”
“So what’s this THING you’re going on today?”
“It’s not a THING, it’s coffee,” I said sternly.
“Just go and have coffee, then. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“That he will be a lunatic murderer who takes out my organs to sell on the black market!”
“In the middle of the coffee shop? Doubtful,” she said.
“I’ll have you know that my organs are worth a shit load of money. Ok, the ones that don’t have a fat layer surrounding them.”
We both broke out laughing. “Seriously, Renee, what am I doing?”
“Moxie, it’s coffee. You’re not signing your soul to the devil. Go out and have fun. Plus, you’re putting Dunkin Donuts out of business without getting your daily ‘medication’.”
“Fine, but if a body goes missing on the news tonight, I hope your guilt will live with you until your final moments.”
“Moxie, I’m friends with you. You’ve already told me that I’m going to die of Jewish guilt by association.”
“True. Promise me that we’ll be buried together.”
“Promise. Go, have fun and call me after. If I don’t hear from you I’ll send out the hounds.”
I hung up the phone and went to get ready for my “Thing”.
I stood in front of the coffee place on Michigan and Adams. Panic seeped in and I wanted to run the other way. I was still trying to find validity for being here. I should be home, in my pajamas, getting a tub of ice cream, sulking at how pathetic my love life is. Actually, I just wanted to lay down and think about how much I missed Miles. But this was my first step in moving on. I blew it with Miles and now it was too late. I decided to put my big girl panties on and head into the coffee shop.
“Welcome to Starbucks. What can I get started for you today?”
I looked at the friendly barista, wondering if I could con her into putting extra espresso into my drink. Maybe if I tell her I’m on a blind date she’ll feel bad for me and give me some sisterly love.
“I’ll take a large coffee, please.”
“Do you mean a grande or a venti?”
I eyed her in confusion. I spoke slower, thinking that English might not be her first language.
“I…would…like…a…large…cofffffeeee.”
She points to the cups. “Ma’am, we either have grande or venti.”
“Fine, I’ll take the venti with extra cream and sugar.”
“Ma’am, you can add your own cream and sugar over there, at the bar.”
“What kind of establishment is this?” I said a little too loudly.
“Ma’am, this is Starbucks.”
“I fucking know it’s Starbucks!” I gave her my credit card to pay for my coffee, which I would have been better off making at home.
I looked around to see if there was anyone that matched Michael’s picture. There were quite a few people there, but no one that matched the picture on his profile. I found a seat and took out my phone. I wanted to look like I was busy texting or reading something, so I didn’t look like I was desperately waiting for him to show.
“Order up for Moodle,” called the barista. For a moment I thought she purposely screwed up my name because I was a little short with her. I groaned and went to collect my coffee. She was so not getting a tip from me.
“Moxie?”
I spun around and almost dropped my coffee at what I saw.
Miles.
“Miles, what are you doing here?” Everything inside me started to panic. What would happen if Michael showed up while Miles was here? My stomach started to feel unsettled.
“Do you need help?” He could see that my hands were shaking around my coffee.
“No, I…um…sugar.” I pointed to the bar housing the cream and sugar. I walked briskly over there, trying to ignore the fact that he was following me.
“It’s good to see you,” he said softly. I looked around to see if Michael came in.
“Umm, yeah, you too,” I said, pouring cups of cream and sugar into my coffee.
“Are you meeting someone?”
Oh, crap. “Yes,” I mumbled.
“Can we sit and talk?” he asked.
Was he crazy? He wanted to sit down and have a fireside chat with me
while I waited for my date or whatever the hell it was?
“Miles, now is not a good time.”
“Just a few minutes. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”
I should be so lucky. I pointed to the chairs in the back and we walked back to have a seat. I kept my eye out for Michael.
“So how have you been?” Miles asked.
“Fine, thanks.”
He let out a small laugh.
“Fine? That’s it?”
“Yup, just fine.” I was clutching my coffee like it was going to run away from me.
“So who are you meeting?”
Well, there was the Miles I got to know. Big set of balls.
“Not your concern,” I sneered.
“I can tell you why I’m here,” he continued.
“Don’t really care,” I lied.
“I was going over to the Art Institute to look at some art.”
“Good for you.”
“You know why I love art?”
“No, and I don’t care.” I was still lying.
“Because I love to create things with my hands.”
I swear I stopped breathing. I looked Miles straight in the eyes. “What did you say?”
“I love to create things with my hands. And do you know who one of my favorite artists is?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Michael Angelo.”