First Comes Love: A Chronicles of Moxie Novel Page 5

  “Tell him we are on a Super 80 aircraft and our destination is 1,153 miles.” He bounced in his seat, smiling.

  It never ceased to amaze me how much knowledge Dillion could fit into his brain. Even though he was only in first grade, he could easily be accepted into Harvard next year. I’ll have to talk to Miles about getting his enrollment papers ready.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, can you buckle your seat belt?” The flight attendant pointed to my lap.

  “Of course.” I latched the belt and pulled out my phone to send Miles a quick text.

  This is Minnie Mouse talking from the cockpit. We’ll have lift-off in three minutes.

  Minnie, this is Mickey. Glad you got on the plane okay. How’s Dillion?

  “Excuse me, ma’am, you’ll have to shut off all your electronic devices now.” The flight attendant’s mouth was a thin line and her eyes shot imaginary laser beams at my head.

  “Umm, sure. No problem.”

  I pretended to turn it off and put it away. As soon as she was a few rows up, I took my phone out again and continued my text to Miles.

  He’s great. Really excited and so am I. I’m enjoying playing pretend mommy. It’s fun.

  Who says you’re pretending anything? You’re going to be a mommy sooner…

  “Ma’am.”

  I looked up at the flight attendant I now referred to as stealth ninja flight attendant, or SNFA for short, as she eyed me like a disobedient child.

  “You need to shut off the phone right now. I’ve asked you once already.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I just have to finish reading this really important text from my boyfriend,” I said, sticking out my lower lip for sympathy.

  “Ma’am, the captain really doesn’t want to hold up the entire flight just so you and your boyfriend can play text footsie. I’ll stay right here to make sure you put it in airplane mode properly.”

  Was she kidding me? Who the fuck did this woman think she was? More importantly, what did the rest of Miles’s text say? Did he know something about my pregnancy? I took the pregnancy tests in my apartment so he wouldn’t see them. Did he find out somehow? Was that why he sent us on this trip, to stage an exit plan to leave me? Bile rose in my throat. But then why would he send Dillion with me? Oh my God, he’s going to leave me to raise Dillion and move to the Antarctic.

  My hands shook as I turned off my phone for takeoff. I closed my eyes and thoughts of having to raise Dillion and a new baby all by myself crept into my mind. How would I do it? Dillion and this baby would hate me forever, and I didn’t have enough money in my retirement plan to send them both to therapy?

  “Moxie, are you okay? You’re sweating as bad as the guy sitting next to Ryan.” Renee looked at me with concern.

  “Are there barf bags in here?” I dug behind the magazines in the seat pocket in front of me.

  “Seriously? You haven’t even been drinking?”

  “It’s not that. But I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “This is a piss-poor time to get the flu. Don’t tell me I have to go on Space Mountain by myself. Ryan is too much of a pussy to go with me.”

  “It’s not the flu.” I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes.

  “I knew it. Ryan poisoned you with his sad excuse of blueberry muffins this morning. While it was a sweet gesture for him to bring some for us at the airport, they did taste a little off.”

  “I’m sitting in the aisle next to you, bitch,” Ryan said from his seat

  “Knowing you, you probably forgot to wash your hands after wiping your ass before making those muffins.” She smiled brightly and then blew him a kiss. He gave her the finger.

  I checked on Dillion. Thankfully he had his earbuds in and was probably listening to the audio book, Tale of Two Cities. He was talking about listening to all the great classics before he got into the fourth grade. My Dad had to pay me off to get me to read one classic book in high school so my teacher wouldn’t fail me. I was glad Dillion had the capacity to entertain himself because I really feeling ill.

  “While I think we should all question Ryan’s culinary skills, it’s not food poisoning either.” I groaned, trying to keep the vomit at bay.

  Renee whispered, “It’s the guy in front of us, isn’t it? He has enough cologne on to make a department store perfume counter jealous. I’m even ready to gag myself.”

  “It’s not him, although I would have to tend to agree that whatever he is wearing is more offensive then a hooker airing out her underwear.”

  “Then what the hell is wrong—” Renee froze and stared at me for what seemed to be an eternity. Then her eyes went as big as saucers. “Noooo,” she whispered, looking at me as if I had just farted.

  “What’s wrong?” Ryan looked up from his GQ magazine.

  “Moxie has a minion!” Renee squealed and shook with excitement.

  “I know. She has twenty-two of them she tries to control in her class. And does a pretty crappy job, if you ask me.” Ryan winked.

  “No, stupid! Moxie’s knocked up!”

  “What!” Ryan shouted so loud people turned to look in our direction.

  “What? Is the plane going down? Are we going to die? Can I call my mother?” The sweaty man yelled.

  “Is there a problem over here?” SNFA glided down the aisle.

  “No—” Ryan started to say.

  “Yes! This man said the plane is going down!” Sweaty man said, his voice cracking as he squeezed his eyes shut.

  “I did not!” Ryan said.

  “Moxie, I need to go to the bathroom.” Dillion tugged on my arm, immune to the confusion.

  “Okay, I’ll take you.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, you cannot get out of your seats,” SNFA said stiffly.

  “But he has to go to the bathroom,” I replied.

  “Ma’am, the fasten seatbelt sign is on.” She pointed to the lit up sign on the ceiling.

  “The good news is that my eyesight is working,” I said to the flight attendant. “The bad news is that you’re about to have a puddle on the floor if the kid can’t get to the bathroom.” Dillion was holding his crotch and doing the famous pee dance.

  “If you take him, you’re going at your own risk.”

  “Risk of what? Slipping on a bag of peanuts?

  “Moxie…” Dillion was tugging on my shirt with force.

  The flight attendant put a hand on each seat in the aisle, blocking the way to the bathroom with her body. This was not the Cold War people. I would take her body down like the Berlin Wall.

  “Come on, sweetie,” I said to Dillion.

  I unbuckled both of our seatbelts and we crossed over Renee’s legs into the aisle. A woman a few rows in front of us got up at the same time and entered the bathroom.

  “You have to be kidding me,” I muttered. I was convinced that woman slipped the flight attendant a hundred dollar bill to buy her silence.

  “Ma’am, you can’t stand in the aisle, you will have to return to your seats,” SNFA said.

  “But that woman took our bathroom!”

  “I’m sorry. You’ll have to return to your seats until the lavatory is unoccupied.”

  “I only have five dollars, but after the plane lands I’ll find an ATM and give you five hundred dollars.”

  The flight attendant didn’t move, and I wondered if she was born with that unrelenting stare or if it developed over time.

  I turned around and whispered to Dillion, “I need you to pretend to cry.”

  “Why?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  “Because the flight attendant Nazi isn’t going to let us go to the bathroom unless we stand against the empire.”

  “Kind of like Star Wars.”

  “Right, you’re Luke Skywalker and she’s Dark Vader.” I pointed to dark stewardess.

  “Moxie, it’s Darth Vader, not dark.”

  “To me, it’s dark. I mean the woman is dressed all in black, for Pete’s sake.”

  “I don’t think I can pretend cr
y. I’m not feeling it.”

  “Dillion, this is no time to work on your method acting.”

  “Excuse me, is there a problem here?”

  A tall well-dressed man approached us, frowning and rubbing his forehead.

  I eyed his crisply pressed sport coat. “A little overdressed to go to Disney, are you?” I smirked at him.

  “Miss, I suggest you still down.

  “Last time I checked this wasn’t your business.” I narrowed my eyes and folded my arms.

  “All things that happen with air transportation are my business,” he said in an unpleasant tone.

  “Really? Do you own the plane? Last time I checked I paid way too much to fly commercial. If I were on a private jet, I’d be getting a foot message while someone fed me grapes.”

  The nausea I had felt only worsened when he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a card.

  “You’re an air marshal.” I clutched my stomach and started to rock back and forth.

  The people in the front row said something about an air marshal onboard and it raced back to each row. Now I had a better understanding of how wildfires spread. The front row was the kindling and the rest of the plane was dry wood and underbrush.

  “Oh my God, there is an air marshal on the flight!” screamed the sweaty man. “That means someone on the No-Fly List is on board. We’re all going down!”

  People started to panic as the din of worried voices grew louder.

  “Everyone calm down!” said the marshal. “We take flights routinely as a safety measure. No one is in harm’s way on this flight.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I managed to say before my stomach emptied on the air marshal.

  After a discussion with the TSA and American Airlines about not harassing the flight crew, we headed to our hotel on the Disney property. We figured staying on the Disney grounds would be best so we didn’t have to rent a car. The downside, however, was being herded like cattle on Disney transportation buses and sharing everyone’s body odor. I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of smelling someone who had baked in the sun all day.

  Dylan was out cold soon after we settled in the room. Renee, Ryan, and I sat in the connecting room and discussed my pregnancy. I told them about the thirty pregnancy tests and that my new doctor was Doogie Howser. We also talked about my fear that Miles would leave me. Renee told me that if I wasn’t with child, she’d smack me so thoroughly they would find pieces of me all over the Disney property. Ryan added to Renee’s threat and told me I must have lost brain cells on the flight because Miles and I could never be separated. After a two-hour therapy session with my besties, I finally was able to relax enough to sleep.

  I woke up the next morning wrapped up like a mummy in my sheets. Dillion was still fast asleep in the bed next to mine. His hair was a disaster and his mouth was slightly open while he snoozed. He looked so much like his father. I wondered if this baby would look like Miles or if it would have flaming red hair like me. Gingers were cute as babies, but I was called fire crotch mercifully as a preteen.

  “Good morning.” Renee swept in with a singsong voice like Snow White. I waited for those dumb ass birds to come swooping in through the window and land on her finger. The problem was I felt more like one of the seven dwarfs: Pregnant Grumpy.

  “Cinderella, go fetch my coffee and slippers.” I flicked my hand in her direction as I rolled over in bed. That movement started waves of nausea, rippling through my stomach.

  “You can’t drink coffee, Miss Preggo, and get your own damn slippers.”

  I looked over my shoulder. She sat on the edge of the bed dressed and ready for the day. We needed a discussion about the necessities of sleeping in. “I had this dream last night that I was a dungeon master and I had Miles in chains. I was whipping him with baby blankets and making him suck on a pacifier.”

  “I don’t know if that sounds horrifying or kinky. Do you really think Miles is going to run the other way when you tell him you’re pregnant?”

  “I have no idea. He’s caring, receptive, and has been my number two to my number one. But we don’t live together, and we haven’t even brought up the M word.”

  “Masturbation?”

  “Yes, twat waffle, masturbation. How’d you guess?” I threw one of the pillows at her. “Marriage! We haven’t even gotten that far. And now I’m pregnant with a cross between an angel baby and Satan’s spawn.”

  “Moxie, I don’t think you have anything to be afraid of except your vagina stretching out too much after delivery. Miles’s penis will get lost and need turn by turn directions.”

  “Oh my God. I’m going to have a cavern for a vagina.” I slapped my hands on my face.

  “Just try not to poop on the kid when you give birth. I heard women shit when pushing out the baby.”

  With my face still buried in my hands I moaned. “Great, I’m going to have a shitty baby.”

  “Why don’t we go out, see the parks, ride the rides, and get your mind off this for a bit.”

  “All right. I just have to wake up Dillion from his coma. He was so excited about meeting the Owl from Winnie the Pooh that he tired himself out.”

  “There was an owl in Winnie the Pooh?”

  “Apparently. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he probably got swept under with the rug with other Disney characters they didn’t want to admit they created,” I said as I pulled my hands away from my face.

  “Like that horrible movie The Fox and the Hound,” Renee said.

  “Silence!” I held my hand up to stop her from continuing. “I told you never to bring up that horrible tale of the dog and fox again. It always makes me cry. I swear I think Walt Disney sat in his office and thought about all the different ways he could send children to therapy”

  Renee laughed. “Okay, I’ll get Ryan up. It’ll take him forty minutes just to style his hair.”

  I dragged myself out of bed and washed up. No point scaring poor Dillion with dragon breath when I woke him. After I was done in the bathroom, I crept over to his bed and looked down at my favorite little boy. My mind wandered to the future and Dillion trying to teach his younger sister or brother the alphabet or physics. Right as I was about to wake Dillion there was a knock at the door.

  “Who is it?” I asked. But there was no answer. I looked through the peep hole and no one was standing there. I opened the door and saw a small box with a red ribbon tied around it sat on the floor. It felt heavy when I picked it up and brought in the room. I intrigued about what the contents could have been. I giggled to myself imagining someone placing a Dumbo sized shit in a box and doing a ding, dong ditch.

  A small tag was hanging from the ribbon which was addressed to Ms. Summers. I pulled the ribbon and opened the lid of the small box. There was an envelope with Moxie written in familiar handwriting along with a snow globe that contained Cinderella’s castle. I shook the globe and little specks of glitter surrounded the water in the glass. I took the envelope and tore it open and read what it said.

  Moxie,

  I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you and Dillion on your magical adventure. Since I can’t be there, I had the hotel set up a special breakfast for you in one of the suites for you, Dillion, Renee, and Ryan. Even though I can’t be there let this snow globe remind you that you will always be queen of the castle and of my heart.

  I love you,

  Miles

  Tears welled up in my eyes because I’d rather have Miles here then any gift or special breakfast. But just the thought of going through all this trouble warmed my heart, and fucked with my hormones. Since Miles had set up this breakfast, I needed to get Dillion up so we could eat and get to the parks.

  “Dillion.” I rubbed his shoulder, glad he didn’t have one of his night terrors last night. The post-traumatic stress he suffered from the car accident still lingered after all this time. It tore my heart apart. He might have healed physically from the accident, but emotionally he still carried it with him every day. Miles had
gotten him into some therapy and it certainly helped him deal with reliving the car accident. Dillion had talked about breaking glass, seeing his mom covered in blood, and a man rushing out of a car to see if they were all right.

  “Is it time to see the Owl?” he asked.

  “I think the Owl migrated north, but Mickey Mouse will be there.”

  “I suppose I can take the consolation prize.”

  “Come on, sleepy head. Let’s get ready. We’re going to a special breakfast where we can indulge in enough Mickey waffles, bacon, and eggs until we puke.”

  That’s all it took for Dillion to bolt out of bed and into the bathroom. I chuckled at the dust cloud he left behind. My stomach was queasy like it was sinking, and my nerves were fried like a bad piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken.

  “That’s what you’re wearing?” Ryan asked as he sauntered into the room. I looked down at myself. What was wrong with my Bermuda shorts and “I’m Goofy” T-shirt?

  “I figured I’d save my Cinderella gown for when we went to the ball,” I said as I curtsied. “I want to be comfortable. We’re going to be doing a lot of walking, and I need room for my stomach to expand with all the crap we’re going to eat.”

  “But you look so… casual.” Ryan wrinkled his nose.

  “Listen, not everyone owns the whole J.Crew catalog,” I said. Ryan’s immaculate ensemble consisted of pressed cargo shorts, a white linen shirt, and driving loafers. He topped the whole thing with a fedora. I rolled my eyes.

  “A fedora? Really?”

  “If Perry the Platypus can get away with wearing one, so can I. How are you feeling, Mama?” he asked as he came up and patted my stomach.

  “If you want to continue to use your hands, I suggest you remove them at once.” I gave him the death glare.

  “Touchy, touchy. Do we have to put up with this for nine months?”