Talked to My Dad
From Bellybuttonporn
One thing I got from my dad is a finely-honed bullshit detector, and enough of an asshole streak to point said bullshit out.
My parents got divorced when I was maybe 14 or 15. I can't remember. At first my sister and I lived with my mom. The single lifestyle was a bit overwhelming and she wasn't the best parent possible for us, so my dad got custody of us and the house. So mom moved out, and dad moved back in.
Things were going fine. My dad is entirely responsible; my sister and I were fed, clothed, and safe. He pays all his bills on time, and even managed to pay for two teenaged kids without recieving any of the child support payments from my mom, and also managing to pay off the credit card debt she'd racked up on their joint cards.
My dad met a woman named Wanda. I don't want to say it's a typical wicked-stepmother story, but I really think it is. Wanda seemed nice. She has a son my age. Very soon after she and my dad started dating, she and her son moved into our house. This wasn't a big problem.
Then, I don't really know what started going wrong. Wanda would bicker with us, my sister and I. She'd pull so much bullshit and I wouldn't put up with it, that's where that bullshit detector came in handy. She'd say mean and hateful things to my sister when dad was out of earshot. My sister and I had always fought each other from a young age. We were pretty shitty kids, I think. Anyhow, little kids squabbling is the best way I can put Wanda's behavior. It was like a third teenager moved in.
She even tried to kill my dog! I think pets can sense evil. Molly, our cocker spaniel, was about 8 years old at this point. She started shitting and pissing on the master bed, on Wanda's side. Concocting this story about how she was getting old and losing her mind, Wanda harped and harped to dad about having her put to sleep. My sister and I raised holy hell until dad agreed to let Molly go live with my mom. Where she lived happily for about 8 more years. Never pissing or shitting indoors at all.
One summer, I think I was 16, I had had enough. I talked to mom, who was living with her boyfriend Paul in Paul's house, and asked if I could move in. So I moved in for a trial over the summer, for a month. At the end of that month I told my dad I wanted to stay there with mom. Dad freaked out because he didn't (or didn't want to) understand why. Dad was always a better provider than mom ever could be. Wanda was just too much to deal with. My sister, daddy's little girl, stayed with them.
Things got better for me almost immediately. Paul and I have our fights occasionally, but he's a good guy. For my sister, though, things got worse.
With me out of the house, Wanda focused all of her bitchiness on my sister. Wanda would constantly chastise her about her weight, her intelligence, and any other little thing. Wanda bitched about how jessica chewed her food! The emotional abuse was so bad my sister would run into her room and rip her own hair out.
Eventually my dad and Wanda put jessica into therapy for "acting out". Within one session the therapist had deduced that Wanda was the entire problem, and jessica would otherwise be fine. The therapist, in the guise of better helping jessica to change, suggested group therapy for the three of them. As soon as the therapist suggested dad or Wanda change anything in their behavior, therapy was over.
During this whole time I had minimal contact with my dad and wanda, since i was so resentful. Unfortunately, that meant I had no contact with my sister. I just had no idea that was going on. Pretty soon thereafter, my sister moved into my mom's too. We have been pretty good friends ever since then.
My contact with dad has always been a little strained. Typically I'd call him after a while and Wanda would answer the phone and chastise me for not calling more often, then give the phone to dad. I could still hear her bitching in the background while he tried talking to me. So I would call less and less frequently.
The final straw was when I was 18, just graduated from high school. My mom's credit was shit (due to the credit cards I mentioned above), so she couldn't cosign my student loans. I asked my dad to do it since he has pretty good credit. I wanted to talk to him alone, but as always, Wanda was right there. They wouldn't do it. I wasn't worth it, and a college education wasn't really worth bothering with. Paul cosigned my student loans. I think I only talked to dad one more time after that.
So now back to the present. Some other guy with my dad's name died, and the obit was in the paper. Several people called to give condolences. He's not dead. But what if he were? I really don't think I should let Wanda ruin my life and my relationship with my dad, whatever that amounts to.
So I called him to talk. We only talked about 45 minutes, but I dunno, not much to say. I told him I had graduated from college with a double major in computer science and philosophy. I said I had a job in Omaha, but a better one opened up in Ames, so I moved back. I told him about my new car, and he told me he had a Chevelle SS when he was about my age. We talked about the obituary for that other guy; apparently everyone at work gave him shit. We talked about my grandpa, who's holding onto a thread in the nursing home. He's about to go soon, I hope. His mind is totally gone. He chokes when they feed him since he can't regulate his breathing while swallowing. I hope to see my dad (and Wanda, who I hope has matured over the years) soon. I hope my sister goes with me.
