by Z. B Heller
“God, Miles. More,” she said as she grabbed the comforter.
I was happy to oblige and I sucked her sensitive spot into my mouth, hard. Moxie thrashed and I had to pin her legs down with my hands. I sucked, licked, and savored the wetness filling my mouth. I released her thighs and moved my hands up her body and under her shirt. I tweaked her nipples through her lace bra and she moaned even louder.
“Miles, I going to come.”
The sight of her coming was like watching the best Fourth of July fireworks. I glided up her body, kissing her skin as I went. “I want to be inside of you when you come. I want to feel you squeezing me”
I pressed the head of my cock against her opening and it didn’t take but a single nudge for me to slip inside because she was already so wet. Moxie started rocking her hips against me, searching for the friction she needed to get off. I moved faster.
“I’m not going to last long, I need you too fucking badly. I want you to come. I need you to come,” I said, my voice strangled.
Her body started to contract and her legs squeezed around my hips. “Miles! I’m coming!”
The rush of my orgasm glided from my lower spine on up. My balls tightened almost painfully until I came, filling Moxie and giving me relief. I could have sworn I saw stars. Sex with Moxie had always been amazing, but this time it felt like something… more. I wasn’t sure if it was because I found out she was pregnant, but the need to stay connected was intense.
“Yes,” she said, panting hard.
“Yes, it was pretty incredible.” I rested my head on her chest.
“No, you idiot. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
“It’s because I fucked the answer out of you, isn’t it?” I lifted my head and placed delicate kisses on her chin and cheek. “Nah. That was just an extra bonus.” She smiled.
I took Moxie’s mouth with mine and kissed the woman who was going to become my wife and the mother of my child.
“Miles, if you don’t get off my sensitive tits in two seconds, I’ll never let you to touch my boobs for the rest of our lives.”
“That’s okay,” I said, rolling next to her. “Because I’m taking them with me into the afterlife.”
After the chaos of the proposal, we spent the rest of the week enjoying the wonderful world of Disney. Renee, Ryan, and I took turns going on rides with Dillion while Moxie watched because the thought of moving objects made her turn the color of Jiminy Cricket. Plus, I wanted someone with her at all times to point out the closest bathroom or trashcan.
I was still in awe that Moxie was pregnant. She told me about the pill recall, and when I teased that we should sue the company, she broke into a raging crying fit. She said I was an asshole and could shove the pill pack up my ass. Apparently, Moxie wasn’t at the point of thinking this concept was funny and the mood swings were not in my favor. It took an hour of massaging her feet and promising to change shit-filled diapers for a year for her to forgive me.
Renee and Ryan gave us some alone time with Dillion so we could talk about the baby and the wedding. In true Dillion form, he wanted to know exactly how a zygote became a fetus and if Moxie was going to lose the battle of city versus suburbs. Moxie spent an hour trying to convince us that raising the baby in the city would be really cool and hip. I told her I wanted my children to know what grass and trees were. She finally, although not without resistance, agreed to terminate her lease and live with us. However, she said she had no qualms about shooting anyone who uttered the word minivan. The rest of vacation went smoothly, although I thought Dillion was going to picket the Magic Kingdom until he saw Owl from Winnie of Pooh. When someone working there said the owl had to fly away, I was a little worried that Moxie was going to take one of the balloons and cause serious vocal cord damage to the man. That’s when I knew it was time to get out of there.
The following Friday I came home from work and I found Moxie’s car in already at the house. I went inside, expecting her to be spread out on the couch and decompressing from the workday. But Dillion was in her place, playing on his tablet.
“Hey, bud. How was school?” I put my workbag down.
Without looking up, he gave me a thumbs-up.
“What did you learn today?” I attempted to engage him in human-to-human conversation, once he got entranced with his National Geographic shows, it was like talking to a brick wall.
Dillion shrugged.
I tried again. “Did you know that they elected the first cow to be president of the United States, and I’m moving to Ecuador?”
Again, I only received thumbs-up.
I gave up on Dillion and called out for Moxie as I walked through the house. A muffled groan came from the hall bathroom.
“Moxie? You okay in there?
“Ugh, leave me alone. My destiny is to perish in the pits of hell.” She moaned again.
“Sweetness, can I get you something? Some saltines or ginger ale?”
“I swear to God, if one more person offers me ginger ale or saltines, I’ll give them a ginger ale enema. This is entirely your fault, you know. It’s because of you and your power penis that I’m sitting here revisiting my lunch. It wasn’t even that good going down; ten times worse coming back up.”
Talking through a wooden door wasn’t helping; I cracked the door open to see Moxie lying on her side on the tiled bathroom floor.
“What are you doing?”
She looked up from the floor. “I’m surveying the grout to see if it needs to be redone. What the fuck does it look like I’m doing? I’m dying a sad, slow death.”
“What are you holding?”
She rolled herself over and I saw the familiar blue, white, and black package gripped in her hands. “Are those Oreo cookies?”
“Yes,” she said, patting the bag and speaking sweetly to the cover.
“Why are you holding Oreos?” I tried very hard not to laugh because I valued my life.
“Because I miss them and it’s comforting to look at them. But the smell is making me sick.”
I bent down to remove the Oreos from her hands. But she clutched the bag tighter and gave me a murderous look.
“Take the Oreos and I will rip off your hands. You’ll have to masturbate with your feet.”
“Why would I need that when I have your mouth?” I wiggled my eyebrows. Man, I just couldn’t help myself. If I kept this up, I’d need to update my will.
“Do you have a death wish?” she asked with a scoff.
Definitely updating that will.
I sat down beside her, pulled her onto my lap, and tenderly massaged her head. She let out a long sigh and the Oreo package fell from her grasp. I’d take the sickness away from her if I could. I wondered for a brief minute what it would be like if men could get pregnant. Would we be able to handle the morning sickness? The changes to our bodies… Pushing a watermelon out our penises. I shuddered at the thought, knowing there wasn’t a man on this fucking planet who could handle what women went through.
“I’m going to be a shitty mom.”
“Where did that idea come from? You’re amazing with Dillion.”
“The other week, you were out of lunch meat so I gave him two pieces of bread with a marshmallow between them.”
“We have marshmallows?”
“Umm, they must have appeared out of thin air.” She shrugged, feigning innocence.
“I’m sure the other kids were jealous and wanted their moms to pack them a marshmallow sandwich. See, you’ll be the cool mom.”
“Yeah, right. I’ll be the mom who leaves her kids stranded in the stroller because I saw a hot dog stand on the street corner and got distracted.”
“I don’t blame you. A good hot dog is hard to come by. Unless it’s my hot dog and that’s free.”
She slapped my knee. “I’m serious, you ass.”
I pulled her closer and kissed her hair. “I know you’re serious, but I think the idea of you being a bad mom is absurd.”
“You’re just saying that to
get into my pants.”
“That’s partly true. I do enjoy some quality time in your pants. However, I think if I made a move on you now, I would get puked on. And as much as I would love to reenact our first meeting, I’ll have to take a pass.”
An idea suddenly came to me, but I wasn’t sure how Moxie would react to it. I didn’t want her to feel she was inadequate when she became a mother. She suffered from a lot of self-esteem issues. I told her every day how much I loved her and I would continue to tell her. I couldn’t wait to see her belly grow and hold my hand over it when the baby kicked and moved. It pained me to see her upset. I had a great upbringing with parents who loved each other and a sister I had gotten along with. Moxie grew up with Martha and that was enough to send anyone over the edge. However, this was going to change. I was taking care of her now and I knew, even if she didn’t, how strong a woman she was. Sometimes you can’t always accept it from those who are too close to you. I needed to approach this subject delicately.
“When Sarah died in the accident, I thought I died right along with her. Then I had to watch Dillion fight for his own life. I was a shell of the person I used to be, but I had to be strong for Dillion. There was a huge part of me that was scared I wouldn’t be able to give Dillion enough, that he needed both parents to be whole. I was blessed that Dillion pulled through, but I still carried my grief and pain around. I felt that I was shortchanging him.”
“But you’re an amazing father,” she said softly.
“I didn’t feel that way, not even close. Then my mom convinced me to go see a therapist to try to work out some of my grief. She said I was useless to Dillion if I couldn’t come to terms with what happened. I might not suffer with night terrors like Dillion, but I was having nightmares. I kept visualizing what Sarah was feeling and seeing when the car was hit. I had guilt that I wasn’t in the car; that I couldn’t be there with her and Dillion.”
Moxie hung on to my every word. I was lucky that she never got jealous when I talked about Sarah. She knew Sarah had been an important part of our life. But she also knew I loved her fiercely. I was a lucky man to find love twice. But Moxie never compared herself to Sarah. She knew she didn’t have to.
“What are your thoughts about seeing a therapist to work out some of these issues?” I held my breath, worried I’d overstepped.
“I think the therapist would probably be dead by the time we even began to hit the issues I need to deal with. There is a lot of ground to cover, starting with when I was two years old and decided to draw on the walls.”
“I think a lot of kids that age try to draw on the walls. I wouldn’t call that therapy worthy.”
“But my choice of medium was the remnants of my poop-filled diaper. I think my mom decided to start potty training that day.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. Moxie always knew how to make a statement, even as a toddler.
“I’ll call Dillion’s therapist and see if she can see you. She sees both children and adults for therapy. I’ll even go with you for your first appointment if you want.”
“Can I bring the Oreos?” She held the package close to her chest.
“If the smell doesn’t make you vomit all over my car, you can bring anything you want,” I said, smoothing her hair with my hand.
Tears streamed down Moxie’s face. I panicked, thinking I’d offended her by suggesting therapy. “Sweetness, I wasn’t suggesting that you’re going to be a bad mom—”
“No, it’s not that.” She sniffled and wiped away the tears on her cheek. “I’m scared that I will never eat Oreos again!”
I smiled and patted Moxie’s red locks. “Glad to see you have your priorities in check.”
Last time I attempted therapy was after my mom died, and let’s just say it didn’t go over to well. Dr. Whatever The Fuck—I’ll call him WTF—had me come into his office that reeked of rotten cantaloupe and dead fish. He was a large man with graying hair and a silver mustache, which I swore had particles of food matted in his whiskers. He wore what I liked to refer to as Bill Cosby sweaters, which were knitted with a variety of colors splashed on them. This was paired with brown corduroys that also had some sort of food remnant on them. It was Martha’s idea that I went to therapy. She and my father were about to get married, and she felt I had to deal with my mother’s death before the wedding. My time with Dr. WTF didn’t help.
WTF: “Moxie, I’m very glad you’re here today. It was very brave of you to take this first step in your recovery.”
Preteen Moxie: “Whatever.”
WTF: “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother. It sounds like she was a fantastic woman.”
Preteen “annoyed” Moxie: “Whatever.”
WTF: “I understand your father is getting remarried. How does that make you feel?”
Preteen “I think I want to fuck with this guy’s head” Moxie: “Oh, you mean Martha? She’s cool! Did you know that she comes from the planet Zoltar? She’s in charge of the little Zoltarians. I’m going to have brothers and sisters. But they won’t look like me because their skin is a chartreuse color. And their noses are on top of the eyes.”
WTF: “Umm, well, Moxie, that’s an interesting fantasy that you have, but I think we need to talk about the reality of your father remarrying a person who is not your biological mother. That must make you have some uncomfortable feelings since you were so close to your mother.”
Preteen Moxie: “You know, I do have an uncomfortable feeling.”
WTF: “Tell me about them. Maybe we can explore how to overcome them.”
Preteen “bored” Moxie: “I get this feeling. It’s squishy and warm and I can’t sit still.”
WTF: “This is good. Is it anger? Are you angry with your father for remarrying?”
Preteen “Let’s hit him where it hurts” Moxie: “No, it’s usually because I shit in my pants and just need a change of underwear.”
Martha and my dad where called into the room and Martha was horrified I would act like such a child when she was doing everything to help me move past my grief. I reminded her I was a preteen and liked sitting in the puddle of my own grief so leave me alone.
Miles and I walked into the office of Dr. Nikki Gerber. The waiting room was calming with blue walls and soft music playing. Thankfully we were the only ones in the room. It would have made it even more uncomfortable if someone else was mentally judging me for my lunacy. However, if another person was sitting in here, I would be judging them, too. Miles reached for my hand in a gesture to sooth me, but it didn’t work. I kept thinking about how the therapist would confirm I had shitty mommy instincts and the fact that bringing a child into this world was about as bright an idea as teaching apes to learn to use armed weapons. Planet of the Apes anyone?
An older woman with silver hair came into the waiting room, holding tissues to her eyes. She was crying.
I leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Miles?”
“Yup?”
“The therapist just made the woman from Driving Miss Daisy cry.”
“Maybe she just had a powerful session?”
“Maybe she has pictures of dead little puppies and demands you stare at them until you confess to shit you’ve never done.”
“I’ve been in there with Dillion. No dead puppies, I swear. Now the same can’t be said about cats.”
“That’s okay. Cats are Satan’s way of reminding us that there is indeed hell on earth.”
Even though he didn’t reply, I felt Miles shoulders shake with laughter. A smart-looking woman with black-rimmed glasses followed the elderly woman out the door. She looked classy, dressed in a black pencil skirt and crisp white blouse. She was put together, but not in an overwhelming way.
She spoke to the other woman. “Mrs. Hearth, I’m honored you shared your fears with me today. Thank you for trusting me. I look forward to seeing you next week.”
Then, something beyond my preconceived notions of therapy happened: The older woman turned to the doctor and hugged her
.
“Thank you, Nikki.”
She stuck her tissue back into her handbag and exited the waiting room. Dr. Gerber watched her leave and then turned her attention to us.
“Hi, you must be Moxie.” Dr. Gerber walked over to shake my hand. Her hand was soft and welcoming. “I’m glad that Miles called me. Why don’t we start with both of you coming into the room and we can talk a little. Then I’ll get to spend some one-on-one time with just you.”
“Sounds good.” Miles helped me stand and led me into the next room.
“What happens if I get sick?” I asked, trying to use the morning sickness card to get out of this.
“How is that different than any other day of our lives?” The corner of Miles’s lips twitched upward and he gave me a wink.
“Miles’s pants will make good target practice,” Dr. Gerber said, smiling at me.
My eyes brightened and my lips turned upward into a smile. Was that sarcasm? Yes, I do believe it was. Dr. Gerber just might get my seal of approval after all. Those who belittled others were people I couldn’t stand. But sarcasm and I were on a first name basis.
“I have three kids and was deathly sick with all of them. Men wouldn’t know what to do with themselves if they had to go through what we did with pregnancy. I think God gave the wrong gender the set of balls.” Dr. Gerber continued to smile as she sat in her chair.
I swore the heavens opened a shone down a beam of light on this woman.
“I don’t disagree with you, Nikki. I wouldn’t survive one day of pregnancy,” Miles said, shaking his head.
Since Dr. Gerber was Dillion’s therapist, it was nice that she already had an established relationship with Miles. And oddly, I didn’t feel threatened by that. She had done so much to help Dillion with his PTSD and had given Miles tremendous advice on how to help Dillion through his night terrors after the accident. I, on the other hand, would need a miracle to get me to a place where I felt comfortable with the idea of becoming a mom.