The First I Do Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Sarah N. Ham

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  For more information, address: [email protected].

  First paperback edition September 2019

  ISBN 978-1-0806-3511-5 (paperback)

  https://dogwooddreamer.com

  Dedication

  To My Husband,

  We haven’t been married since we were babies, but you are still my high school sweetheart, and I am so grateful to God for you and all you do. You represent the example of an honorable, godly husband, and I respect you so much for all you did for us from our first year to our long-distance years and finally now to our forever after as husband and wife. Thank you for loving me through every change and struggle, through every joyous day and every exhausting day. You are the love of my life and one of my biggest supports in this journey. Thank you, and I love you.

  The First I Do

  Sarah N. Ham

  Chapter One – I Do…

  I have no recollections of it, that day, September 15th, 2001. To others, it was just another small step of recovery after a disastrous event, but the term “Remember 9-11” meant nothing to me at the time. To some, it was Saturday, the promise of escape from careers or school, but once again, that didn’t matter to me. I don’t have recollections of this date because it didn’t matter to me. It wasn’t important, and yet, it was one of the most important days of my life…

  “Michael, where is my skirt!? I saw you rummaging through my things, so I know you took it!”

  “It’s where it belongs!”

  I thought about his words and then, growled as I ran to the living room. Sure enough, Remmy was rolling around on it, ripping it with his needles, and pooping on it.

  “Michael! I’m going to kill you!” I shouted, yanking my pet hedgehog out of my skirt and placing him back in his bedding.

  “Don’t act surprised; I told you that it was too short!”

  “It was up to the dress code!”

  “Just because it was a tad longer than thighs-length, doesn’t make it appropriate! You don’t need the boys staring at your rear.”

  “Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Holier-than-thou!”

  “What’s that supposed to mean!?”

  “You walk around the house practically in your underwear!”

  “We’re in the comfort of our own home!”

  “And yet, you and I are still opposite genders last I checked…”

  “Fine, wear longer skirts, and I’ll stop walking around the house in boxers and an undershirt.”

  I grumbled and stomped to my room to find something else to wear.

  ***

  “Come on, Maybelle, or I’m going to leave you!”

  “I’m coming; I’m coming! Jeez, Michael, you’re so impatient. Besides, I only had to change because somebody destroyed my skirt!” I growled, hopping in his truck.

  As we drove, I ignored the driver.

  “You can’t be that mad about that stupid skirt…” He grumbled.

  I refused to acknowledge him, though.

  “Oh, come on! You know I’m right! If you wore it to school, all the guys would be staring at is—.”

  “I know! My butt… I get it, but it’s still not your choice to make!”

  “I’m trying to protect you.”

  “Michael, for the last time, I don’t need you to protect me! You’re as meddling as a jealous husband.”

  I noticed him blush, and he growled, “You wish; besides, I’m your childhood friend, and I live with you. Naturally, I want to protect you.”

  “I get it, but destroying my stuff won’t stop them from staring. Even if I wore a burqa, they’d stare. Guys don’t need a reason to ogle.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t have to encourage them to, either!”

  “Can we just agree to disagree?”

  “Fine… but I’m still going to walk around the house in my boxers, then.”

  “I’m telling on you to Uncle Henry!” I teased.

  “Dad ain’t even home for another week.”

  “Oh, I’ll just make a list.”

  “Oh, I know you will, tattle-tale!”

  In April of 2015, I was no different than the swarm of teenagers in East Tennessee. I had just turned 17 a few weeks back and was already ready for my junior year to be over with. I lived in a simple four-bedroom, 1500 square-foot, suburban home with my parents, my pet hedgehog, Remmy, my childhood friend, Michael, and his father, Henry. We moved from Southern California back in 2002 and had been together ever since. Mr. Hawkins and my parents were college mates and had always been inseparable, but when Luchia, Michael’s mom, passed away in late 2001 from breast cancer, my parents took the grieving two in for support. Over time, it just became the norm having the two Hawkins guys around, and it gave me an older brother figure to play with.

  Over the years, Michael had become less of a brother and more of a mystery to me. He grew to be 5’10”, 150lbs of lean yet muscular build. The girls at school didn’t see the six-pack he hid under his graphic t-shirts from constant martial arts and weight-lifting, but I had. The girls didn’t know that the introverted teacher’s pet could throw a spiral pass, do a roundhouse kick, or demonstrate a one-armed shoulder throw, but I knew. However, one thing the other girls seemed to know that I didn’t is Michael’s and my feelings for each other. They seemed convinced that as permanent roommates, we must be at least friends with benefits if not secretly married. I didn’t know about Michael, but I was convinced that I would die a virgin before I could decide or figure out what that boy was to me. Then again, it took me three years to figure out that Mr. and Mrs. Makenzie, my science and math teachers in junior high, were actually married, not just surnames in common, so what did I know about anything, let alone love?

  Chapter Two – I Do, Too...

  Maybelle just never got it! She had always been stubborn, but she was also oblivious, totally, utterly oblivious! And yet, I was still crazy about her.

  I grew up with this girl. A day hadn’t passed that I could recall where she wasn’t in it. She was there at my first steps, first words, and every failed attempt in-between; we were born only six-months apart, after all. She was even there through every day Mom fought until she ultimately went to be with the Lord, New Year’s Eve 2001. She was there through that crippling new year as I adjusted confusingly to life without Mommy and a heartbroken, widower Dad. Maybelle had been there through it all. No, she wasn’t always an angel during all this time, and at times, she was even a brat. Still, sometimes I was, too, and even then, she was always there.

  Over the years, she began to look less and less like a surrogate sister to me, but I couldn’t put a name on those feelings until I was twelve years old. It’s amazing how puberty and hormones could change girls from yucky, cootie-infested creatures into gorgeous, mysterious women. Too bad I wasn’t the only one to notice this transformation. The other wolves at our school caught on quick, and I had been batting them off ever since. I just wish she would get it!

  That day at school was boring as always. The only real redeeming part was listening to Belle overdramatically retell how I had savagely sabotaged her favorite skirt with a weaponized, pooping hedgehog. It was hilarious! Then, she got so ticked off, she literally threw a chip at me, so I promised to take her out for Japanese and sushi after school.

  ***

  She loved Suzuno
’s because they had the best bento boxes in town, and in this small town in Tennessee, that was nice, given the lack of alternatives. We didn’t have a lot of chain restaurants or fast food like California, after all.

  So, we sat there, sharing a deep-fried California roll and tempura shrimp roll when in waltzed half the cheer squad and their jock boyfriends.

  “Hey, look, it’s Mikey-moo and his cattle bride, Maybelle. So, Mikey-moo, is she producing milk this year or just sour cream?” One girl quipped.

  “Haha, so clever, Ms. Silicone Valley. So… do those new helpers mean you can finally stop stuffing your 30As?” Maybelle shot back.

  Suddenly, one of the jocks was up and in my face, shouting, “Did you hear what your heifer of a wife called my girl!?”

  “Oh, look, Belle, the dumb lughead’s been looking up cow terms online again; he’s learned a new word.” I growled.

  “That does it!” He shouted, before reaching for me.

  I dodged, being faster, and he stumbled into a table.

  “You f**king brat!”

  I chuckled until I saw him grab Maybelle.

  “Let go of her!”

  “I will when you get on your knees and apologize.”

  “You’re making a d**n scene, Thomas; let her go. We just came for the food!”

  “You got to get your woman in check. She says whatever she wants.”

  The manager approached, shouting at us get out, but Thomas still had Maybelle in a headlock.

  “I’m not going until he gets on his knees!”

  “Thomas, this is stupid!” Maybelle growled.

  Then, he slapped Maybelle across the face. Anger rose in my heart, and to Maybelle’s surprise, I got down on my knees.

  “Michael, don’t!”

  Thomas laughed, letting her go… and the moment she was free, I shot up and did a palm strike to Thomas as hard as I could. He cried out, and I grabbed Maybelle’s hand, dropping some cash in the manager’s hand for the meal and dashing to the car. She hopped in after me, and I peeled out of there as the guys ran out after us.

  As soon as we were out of there, Maybelle burst into laughter, saying, “You had me going there for a moment.”

  “Maybelle, it’s not funny! He slapped you! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s didn’t even leave a scratch.” She muttered, still giggling.

  “Argh! Never mind! You just don’t get it!” I growled, driving away.

  Chapter Three – I Now Pronounce You…

  Michael wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the ride much to my confusion. Why was he so mad at me? It was that airhead who started it! I was so mad at him for this that I ignored him, too, turning on some pop music on my mp3.

  When we got home, my mom came in to ask us about our day. She noticed my cheek and asked, “Maybelle, what happened to your cheek!?”

  “Yeah, tell her, Maybelle, since you so evidently got this, right?” Michael quipped.

  “Shut up, Mikey-moo!” I shouted back.

  “Maybelle, apologize! We don’t call each other names in this house!” Mom scolded.

  “He was asking for it! He’s just upset because the in-crowd tried to pull the usual taunts and—.”

  “And she made a smart-a** comment about one of the girl’s obviously fake double-Ds!” Michael interrupted.

  “Now, Michael, you know your father would not approve of the language.”

  “Sorry, Mrs. Lloyd…”

  “And you, Missy! I didn’t raise you to fall to their level! If they touch you, then you may defend yourself, but I don’t want any of these games going on!”

  “She called me a ‘cow’, and the other guy called me a ‘heifer’! Then, the guy slapped me because I wouldn’t apologize to his girlfriend.”

  “They did what!? What are these kids’ names!? I’m calling their parents!”

  “It doesn’t matter. Michael took care of them.”

  “What? What does she mean, Michael?”

  “They had her in a headlock, so once he let her go, I did a palm strike to him, and we left.”

  Mom held her head in her hands and groaned before saying, “I want their names in case I get a call or a cop at my door.”

  We did so, and she let us go.

  “You’re a pain-in-the-neck, you know that?” I growled to Michael.

  “Love you, too, Belle.” Michael said with a snarky grin.

  So, I threw my sock at him, which landed on his shoulder.

  “I’m keeping this!”

  “Give it back!”

  “Nope, you threw it at me. It’s mine now. I’m going to make a sock puppet out of it and name it ‘Charlie’.”

  “You’re really weird, Mikey-moo; you know that?”

  “Says the girl they call my ‘bovine bride’…”

  I quickly grabbed my sock from him and stormed off to my room. Once inside, I scooped up Remmy, who was already asleep and tickled his stomach. He wiggled in his sleep, and I put him back in his pen before changing his water and food.

  Then, I climbed on my bed and turned on the TV to see if any sitcoms were on. I did some homework and ate popcorn. As I studied, Dad burst into the room, shouting, “Young Lady, did you really get into a fight?”

  “No!”

  “Then, what is your mother calling the Carsons and Kendricks for?”

  I grumbled under my breath and then, shouted out the door, “Mama, leave them alone! Their pride’s hurt enough.”

  “No, that Kendrick boy slapped my baby girl. He’s hearing all of my wrath!”

  “And that Hawkins boy that lives with us may have broken his jaw; I think he’s suffered enough.”

  It was too late as I heard her talking furiously to Mrs. Kendrick, Thomas’s mother.

  “He broke the football captain’s jaw!?” Dad asked.

  “Probably… we didn’t stick around to be sure, but the boy can break a plank with his hand, so…”

  “Well, I may not like you guys getting into fights, but I appreciate Michael protecting your honor.”

  “Yeah, if only he’d stop! I swear… it’s no wonder they call us married. That boy follows me around like a puppy-dog, loyally guarding me from the entirety of the male population.”

  “M-married!?” Dad muttered, surprised.

  “Yeah, they like to call us ‘Mikey-moo and his cow bride’.”

  “But why a cow?”

  “Maybelle is the name you give a cow. You might as well have named me ‘Bessy’.”

  “Well, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. I think your name is beautiful. Kids are just so childish these days.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Alright, I also came to tell you that there are hot dogs ready when you want them.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  He left, and I sighed. Michael just never got it! He could only protect me so much, and his actions only fueled the fire for them to tease us more. I thought back on Dad’s reaction and wondered why he was so surprised; he was a teenager once, too.

  But what did I think of Michael, really? I was sure he was more than that of a traditional friend, but how much more?

  Chapter Four – Man and Wife

  The next day, I went with Maybelle to school, but I noticed almost all morning that she was ignoring me. I assumed it had to do with what I’d said and did last night, but I wasn’t sorry, so I wasn’t about to apologize.

  As we sat in our first-period class, a new face walked in. I wondered if it was someone’s boyfriend or maybe a messenger for the teacher until he pulled out a schedule and asked the teacher if this was English III.

  “Oh, you must be the new transfer student.”

  “Yeah, sorry, I got a little lost trying to find this room.”

  “It happens to all of us because it’s the only set of classes not in the right order. Class, this is a transfer student from Alaska. His name is Drake Parker McCarthy, and he is a junior. Please, welcome him. Um, are there any empty seats around?” The tea
cher announced.

  “Oh, there’s one by Maybelle ever since Chris dropped out.” A classmate pointed out.

  “Oh, good. Maybelle, raise your hand so he can find it.”

  I was surprised by this but watched quietly as Maybelle raised her hand, and the guy moved to sit beside her.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Maybelle Lloyd.”

  “Drake Parker McCarthy… nice to meet you.” He said, shaking her hand.

  With that, the conversation was over as the class started, but from that very first handshake, I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  ***

  Afterwards, the guy was told that Maybelle would be his guide by the teacher since apparently he shared all but one of our six classes, the remaining one for us being Band. So from then on, we had this guy following us around awkwardly.

  “So, Maybelle, who is this guy following us?” He asked.

  “Like you’re one to talk.” I grumbled under my breath.

  “This is Michael Hawkins; he’s my childhood friend. Our parents have been friends since their college days.” Maybelle explained.

  I don’t know why I did what I did next, but I chop it up mainly to this guy’s overly friendliness.

  “Yeah, and I also live with her…” I asserted.

  “Michael!?” She squealed.

  “What; it’s true! Better that he hears it now than through the gossip.”

  “It’s bad enough that they think we’re married; you going around saying that we’re living together makes it sound like we’re shacking it up.”

  “M-married? Living together. Wow, that’s… unique.” The new guy muttered.

  “We are not married, and our families live together, not just the two of us. Please, don’t get the wrong idea.” Maybelle insisted a little too defensive for my liking.

  “Gosh, way to ruin the fun, Belle.” I teased.

  She simply smacked my arm and stormed off with the transfer student and me trying to trail behind her.

  ***