Step-Latter
photo by Mirchiz
By: Candace Thompson
I could hear the blues in mama’s voice. Of course, she said nothing was wrong with her and she didn’t need my help. She’s a Taurus, and nothing is ever wrong with a Taurus and they certainly don’t ask for help. After sensing a series of unfortunate events, I found that she and my stepfather are going through some changes. After being married over two decades lots of changes have occurred and they have stayed together through them all…until I heard my mother cry, and this cry was different. A Taurus doesn’t cry, not like this and a man could never make her cry except this one. Having the step-father syndrome I immediately jumped into defense mode and wanted to comfort and fight for my mother.
Stepfather syndrome, a condition that can tear a child away from the seams of his or her mother’s dress; a disorder in which jealousy and hate know no boundaries. Although there are plenty of success stories in which a stepfather can build a home wonderfully, I was never a believer. I developed step-father syndrome at the age of 11. I had my mother all to myself, unthreatened by her boyfriends and laughed when she had two, there was nothing we couldn’t do together. And then she met and married him…” stepdad”.
After my numerous failed attempts to get rid of him and 3 siblings later, I figured he was here to stay. I hated to, but I had to get used to this unwanted and unnecessary addition to the family who had the nerve to bring three more with him. The kids I loved deeply, and it wasn’t until age 15 I felt that he was okay to be around my mother and tolerable to be around me. It helped that grandma and grandpa lived in the two- family upstairs where I could seek comfort and still have some resemblance to what life used to be like before stepdad. He and I spoke very little to each other, but I could tell he wanted a relationship with me. As a matter of fact, he tried as hard as he could, but his endeavors were never good enough for me.
Hearing my mother’s sadness brought back those feelings I had that if it was just she and I, she wouldn’t feel this way or sound this way. I was ready and went into code red attack mode until my selective memory served me right.
In my late teens, I happened to find myself in an unhealthy relationship, secretly getting my ass beat amongst other horrendous things. I hid my entire life during that time from everyone, or at least I thought I was. If my mother didn’t know, surely step-stranger danger dad was clueless.
One day after an argument over the phone with my then lover, I had an epiphany along with a bright idea. The things I said over the phone angered my lover enough for them to be on their way to my house for another fight and I was prepared with a surprise and a release in store. It was the dead of winter when I grabbed as many items I could that were bought by my lover and tossed them in a garbage bag. Dresses, shoes, hallmark cards, perfume and lingerie was thrown into a dark place just as I had been. I ran to the top porch and just as I looked over the balcony, sure enough, there was the car pulling up. As the car was pulling up there I was throwing items off the porch into the wind and snow, love letters flying back up at me as fast as I had thrown them down. Dresses, heels, panties, onesies with lace all landing in the yard and sidewalk. I had finally had enough, and I wanted everything that resembled my lover out my sight and I wanted my lover to see me discard them the way I did, for it was out of my character to do so.
After sobbing and repeating that this craziness was now over, I forgot that all my shit was still lying in the yard and who but me had to clean it up, especially before grandma got home from work. It hadn’t dawned on me that these items weren’t leaving with my lover, they were simply a sign and a scene created by my madness.
I bundled up and went outside, picking up my freedom items out of the snow and slush one by one. Exhausted and irritated that I hadn’t thought this scene out very well. Everything was now back in the garbage bag and I headed for the house when I saw a pair of my red sequence thong panties stuck in between the awning and the bushes. Not only was a very visible ruby red thong stuck on the awning but on the same side as my grandparent’s door. Of course, I couldn’t reach them from the top porch without falling off and no human was tall enough to reach them. They were just there, just as I was. Grandma was going to be home in a few hours and I could come up with nothing besides pretending I didn’t know what and whose they were.
Feeling terrible and ashamed I went to my mother and told her what I had done. After she looked at me with the “mom” face she laughed at me. “your stepfather should be home in a few hours, maybe he can get them down.” Ok now, this is really fucking awesome. Grandma and Stepdad both getting off at the same time, and my fate lay in the hands of who pulled up first. I then thought about the fact that I barely talk to my stepfather and now I must be at his mercy to get my thongs out of the gutter. I then remembered all the things I did that deserved revenge. This day of freedom now a day of captivity and to make matters worse my lover wouldn’t stop calling. My nerves dangling on edge just as my thong, when my mother called. “your stepfather is here”, she said. I expressed how much I didn’t want to tell him what happened and how embarrassed I was and how he didn’t know anything about me or my abusive lover, I then heard a door slam. Dropping the phone, I ran to the top porch looking over once more. There was stepdad looking up dead into my face still in his work clothes. My face of pity and eyes of tears watched as he walked over to where my grandmother’s car would be any second. He took the stick of a broom and detangled my red sequence thongs from the awning and bushes and somehow got them down and walked in the house with the thong and broom in hand. He asked no questions and made no comments, not even until this day.
As I came back from this hilarious bittersweet memory, listening to my mother, I went from red zone to friend zone. I knew now as a woman that I didn’t like my stepfather, I loved my stepfather. And as much as I thought of him as an interruption I now see him as the engine that keeps my mom going, which keeps us all going. “I am praying for the two of you,” I said surprising my mother. As much as I didn’t want to admit it then, I know now how much I need them to make it and how much he saw but didn’t say and how much he was there even when I didn’t want him to be. Looking to one day be in a double decade marriage in my now triple decade age, I can only hope to be the parent he was on that day, even if I am to be a step-parent.
Inkcarcerated 