Thursday, November 6, 2008


after my mom remarried, i instantaneously hated going to my dad's every other weekend. at the time, even though i was ignorant to the dynamics of the relationship between my dad, mom, and stepmom, i knew this was going to be a bad thing. not that my mom marrying my stepdad was bad at all,...he was great. he took me fishing, boating, putt-putting...all the things dads and daughters are supposed to do. steve took time to get to know me. he appreciated the fact that mom and i were a package deal.
but when my dad married my stepmom,...well that was just another playing field all together. my earliest memory of her, was when i was with dad on his weekend, and he was going to take me and his then new GF, to see his lifelong friend, "Puck." dad still had the old blue ford truck that he had while still married to my mom. when we piled into the truck, his GF pitched a fit to sit in the middle, and i to the window seat. now mind you, this was a bench seat old ass ford truck. it was a seriously tough truck, i'll give it that. but it had no bells and whistles. it was a rough and tough man's man kind of truck. typically, in these situations, the kid sits in the middle because the kid is the smallest. wrong. (in this instance atleast.) i remember riding out there to the country, while she was all over my dad like an over perfumed, salvation army rent-a-suit.
i remember once we got there, we all walked into the living room, where i was cast aside, so the new gf could lavish him with praises and such nonsense. i was left to fend for myself. i wandered outdoors to find Puck's children playing on the trampoline at the trailer across the field. on my way to the fun, i saw something out of the corner of my eye in the knee high grass. i screamed bloody murder. i was a city girl; i knew nothing of these ghastly beasts of nature.
like pavlov's dogs, dad responded immediately to my call. trailing closely behind him was the gf. i thought he'd be mad at me, but i am guessing that his new source of ass, was pacifying him enough to counterbalance any irritations caused by me. he laughed a deep laugh upon seeing the cause of my blood curdling screams. it was the kind of laugh that you couldn't tell if it was just a great big hearty laugh, or a bone chilling evil laugh. he bent over and picked up the unsightly beast; a dime sized turtle.
he bent down on his knees to be at my height, and showed me the slimy thing was cute as a bedbug. it could cause no harm, he said. looming over his shoulder, looking down on me, she snickers. something inside of had the foresight and knowledge to recognize that she, she would be the one who causes harm. i think it was then that i resigned to the fact that i lost my dad that day. she was the death of daddy's relationship with me; she would be the death of it all.
still on his knees, he asked if i wanted to keep him, and i ecstatically said yes to domesticating my new best friend for life. he smiled one of the only, if not THE only smile i can ever recall that he gave me. "what will you name him," he asked. "Sam," i said, "Sam sounds like a good name."
"that it does," he said, as he picked me up to leave. she again saw to it that i had the window seat. but i was okay with the seating arrangements that time. i held Sam, and whispered to him, "i'll save you from her, i'll take you to a good home."
over a decade later, the gf-turned-wicked-stepmother-of-the-west gave birth to the prodigal son. a son named Sam. Sam got saved from her, too. he got a good home, a real home.