Page 22 of Marrying My Moth Lady

How do I answer that?She’s the Mothman’s daughter, squatting on your dad’s land…

For the first time in my life, I let my heart do the talking.

“She’s special,” I start, drawing circles with my fingertip on my napkin. “She stands out in a crowd without trying. It’s her warmth and vibrancy that makes her beautiful. She calms my nerves and softens my words, just by being herself…a true lady. She’s not a rich girl or a brainiac—before you ask—but not less precious. Precious. That’s the word. Every moment I’m around her is soft, precious, and sweet.”

“Wow,” Amber says, turning to Rash. “See, he can’t take me from you when he talks about her with love. We’re goin’ give his sweetheart a bang-up shindig and then start our new life on the road with Daddy’s money.”

I take my first bite of my burger without fear of the grease pulling the trigger on my digestive system. Rash and Amber are my allies. I will save the forest for the butterflies, the conservation center, and the Moth twins. My career will change from a rich Carter Mining stooge to a full-time conservationist. Writing grant proposals or researching in the forest will be my responsibilities instead of office politics and kissing Eli’s ass. I’m actually excited for the change. I’ll be poor but happy as a pig in shit!

Adios cube farm!

Chapter 11

Millie May

“Do you believe the heartless weasel tried to pull such a stunt? The nerve,” I say with a stab of my beet salad. Poor little veggies don’t deserve to be abused by the tines of my fork…at least they didn’t try to propose marriage via email. I deserve better. I don’t care if I’m Amber’s stand-in to save the forest…but this may be the only proposal I receive in my life. Where am I going to meet a husband? I can’t just shimmy down to the local honkytonk and boot-scoot my way into an engagement ring.

Like Amber did… Some women have all the luck.

“Be reasonable, Mills,” Matthew whines. I gave him a half portion of orange slices and doubled up on the beets when fixin’ his plate because I know he hates them. The attitudes of the men around me are unbearable, and I won’t stand for it. “It’s not like you’re fixin’ to live with him, birth his children, or…hell, you won’t even sit next to him at his company’s functions. This marriage will be a piece of paper we throw in a drawer. You aren’t marrying for love, but saving your home.”

Yourhome…not our family’s home…not our home…it clicks. Matthew can focus on his career and social life if he ain’t worried about the bulldozers. If I’m married, does that mean I’mHorus’s problem now? Will the marriage certificate be a piece of paper in a drawer, or the baton Matthew hands off to my next caregiver? Will Matthew wash his hands of me?

“Please see this from my perspective,” I say with deflating courage, as his eyes roll back into his head. “If there’s a chance I can live a typical person’s milestone, I’m going to push for it. Remember the elementary graduation Momma gave us? Daddy played ‘Pomp and Circumstance’ on the fiddle. We made robes out of bath curtains and hats out of a cardboard box.”

“It’s like they knew they wouldn’t live until our high school graduation,” he mumbles, pushing the walnuts to one side of his plate. A spiteful victory because I know he hates walnuts, too.

“They wanted to give us the world. Neither parent would be happy with me if I accepted a cold, logical, emailed marriage proposal—to save our home or not.”

“Did you reply ‘no’ or was there more to it? Somehow, you scared him off.”

“I gave him a succinct argument on why his proposal wasn’t good enough and where he could stick it,” I reply with a wave of my fork.

“You didn’t,” Matthew says, drawing a hand down his face. “Mills, this man holds your fate in his hands. He’s a freakin’ entomologist—the type of scientist who would lock you in a lab! Why did you provoke him?”

“Because I’ve seen the man beneath—” I pause to swallow my tears of frustration “—and you have too. He can do better…and I have faith he will be better for me.”

“And no response for three days,” he says, stabbing his fork at the air between us.

We finish our salads in silence. Well, I finish eating mine while Matthew finishes rearranging his. Too annoyed with one another to eat, we skip dessert. My brother would rather be anywhere but here. It’s written on his face. If I had to hazard a guess, Carrie Anne waits for him somewhere. Did she move into his place? Will he move into hers?

At one point, my brother and I were close enough to ask. Now a canyon sits between us. If I’d swallowed my pride and accepted Horus’s emailed monstrosity, Matthew would be dancing around the room right now. A rock sits in my belly because I know Matthew asks for more than I’m willing to give…which is unfair to him when he’s sacrificed everything for me.

Our relationship changed from siblings to a toxic parasitic arrangement. He resents caring for me but honors his promise to Momma and Daddy. I resent him trading my life for his freedom… I’m too lost in thought to say goodbye to him.

In my nest, I punch a body pillow. I swing at Horus’s callous behavior. I jab at Matthew…for the same reason. I uppercut my parents for abandoning me and alternate with wild swings at the driver who took them away. Most of all, I punch myself for daring to dream of a fantasy life where my opportunities mirror those of typical ladies. Why did I think I deserved a proposal with a sparkly ring hidden in overpriced spaghetti at some popular restaurant? Or a poetic proposal written on a slip of paper, wrapped around a champagne flute as we share chocolate cake?

“Even you hate me,” I blubber to my phone dock. Pulse-pounding techno blasts from the device. Did I turn it on before my boxing session? The console is dark. My phone isn’t aligned with the connection nubs. Where in tarnation am I leaking music? I must find the source before some camping fool findsme! I bend my antennae forward and finger comb my hair behind my ears to get the best reception.

Down below? How can music play from the house when my phone is up here? Did I leave the computer on? Impossible. I killed the generator before heading up to bed. It’s coming from the west, not directly below me… My fingers shake with terror. Who found me? Have they heard my music each night and followed the sound? Is this bass beat a lure into a trap?

I wish Matthew were here.

Flattening my antennae, I crawl to the edge of the nest to peer over the low wall.

“There’s my Juliet,” Horus yells from below. He holds his phone over his head. My favorite MC is on the screen. “Which fairytale romance would you like? Should I climb your hair to your nest, or do you want to throw down a glass slipper for me to ID you?”

The nerve!

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