Lucy was 12, he was 22, and her mom was 32. Yesterday, he became her stepdad, and today, they told her.
Lucy locked herself in her room and stayed there all day. Her mom and her stepdad tried calling her out. Her mom came to the door, suggesting they go to the movies, an amusement park, or visit friends. Lucy remained silent, lying on her bed. At first, she cried. Then she fell asleep. After waking up, she just stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. By evening, hunger drove her out.
It took Lucy a couple of years to adjust. She resisted every word her mom said, curled her lip in disdain, watching them together. She was rude, defiant, and full of resentment. Her mom’s younger sister tried to talk to her, but Lucy wouldn’t listen. She even considered running away and eventually did. She sat crouched on a neighbor’s stairwell until the cold made her seek warmth at her aunt’s place.
When Lucy’s mom came to get her, Lucy had already thawed out and had dinner. Her mom’s hands were trembling, and her eyes were red from crying. Her mom came alone to take her back.
They returned home by taxi. Lucy watched her mom’s profile from the window. Her mom seemed older, and he looked handsome. Then, for the first time, he disappeared for a month. Lucy didn’t ask her mom anything, and her mom didn’t explain. But it felt like old times again, just Lucy and her mom, their relationship slowly warming up. Lucy found peace for a while.
After some time, he reappeared in their lives. Her young stepdad was back, and Lucy accepted that he was a part of their family now.
Lucy was 18, he was 28, and her mom was 38 when one day at lunch, Lucy deliberately held onto his hand for a moment too long as they passed a knife. They locked eyes. Her mom turned pale and lowered her gaze, and they finished their meal in silence.
Later on, when her mom wasn’t home, Lucy approached him, resting her forehead against his back and holding her breath. He paused, then gently moved her away, shaking her shoulders slightly, and asked her not to be foolish.
Lucy broke down in tears, asking why, why, why?! What did he see in her mom? She was old! Her neck was full of wrinkles, how could he not notice? Why was he with an old woman?
He got her some water, settled her in a chair, covered her with a blanket, and left, slamming the door. Lucy sat there, tears streaming, realizing she needed to move into a dorm or rent a place. She had just been discarded like a stray kitten, ignored, and humiliated.
He was handsome. He appeared in her dreams. He stayed away from home. Her mom stayed silent, and both of them drifted around the house like shadows.
When he returned after a few days, her mom wasn’t there, and Lucy was alone again, sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea, and writing notes. He approached, and her heart skipped a beat. Sitting across from her, he looked into her eyes and said tiredly, “I love your mom. Accept it. Not you, your mom, and let’s not revisit this and cause each other grief any longer, you’re a big girl now.”
He never broke eye contact while speaking.
That big girl lay awake all night, her eyes dry and mind blank. The next morning, she caught a glimpse of him and her mom in the kitchen, sharing a kiss. She felt a wave of nausea and barely made it to the bathroom.
A spot in a dormitory became available. Her mom asked her to return home. Later, she gave Lucy money to rent an apartment.
Lucy was 25, he was 35, and her mom was 45. Surprisingly, relationships almost settled. Lucy visited them, they shared meals, chatted, and laughed. Her aunt once remarked, “Thank heavens you’ve grown up.”
Her mom was happy, serene, and he remained as handsome as ever. No, he was very handsome. Too handsome. Lucy realized she compared all her suitors to him, a thought she found unsettling.
Then Lucy fell into an unrequited love. It was hopeless. He was married and didn’t plan to leave his wife. But Lucy loved him. She waited outside his office, cried, and refused to be a “lunchtime wife.” Everything was bitter, torn, and painful. He took her to the sea, showered her with gifts, and was baffled when she seemed unsatisfied. Did everything need to fit into a conventional format, with a wedding and toothbrushes in a cup? He had been through that already. Even the greatest love turns dull when people see each other every day and solve mundane problems.
Lucy disagreed, shook her head stubbornly, and remembered her mom being kissed by her husband in the kitchen while she, foolish, ran to the bathroom, retching in disgust. Why hadn’t she realized life together could be different? Beautiful. Peaceful. Genuine.
That year was tumultuous for Lucy. She rarely dropped by home. Occasionally, she met her mom at cafes, visited them a few times. Her mom had lost some weight; it made sense—her mom took great care of herself. Her mom still had a handsome husband, and Lucy, grown-up and now understanding, finally felt close to her mom.
Lucy was 28, he was 38, and her mom was 48. A job opportunity in another city came up, and Lucy moved. Or rather, she searched for a job in another city herself, escaping from past heavy relationships that had cost her almost three years of her life.
She settled into her new place. Found peace. Even started a romantic relationship with a colleague who was single and appealing. It seemed like she should start thinking about marriage and kids, about sorting out her life.
Her stepdad came to her new city on business. They had lunch together, and it was lighthearted and fun. Lucy talked at length about her new life, asked about his work, about her mom. He answered. Lucy’s gaze drifted to his hands, and she felt an intense desire for him to hug her…
He seemed to understand. Went quiet. Carefully choosing his words, afraid to offend. Yet he spoke. He loved her, the little headstrong girl, he knew and felt her pain, grievances, desires. They’d always remain good friends, and she would always have his support.
Awkwardness enveloped them both. Lucy shook her head and laughed, wondering what she truly wanted from him.
Then he called, telling her that her mom was unwell and was asking for her. Lucy called her mom immediately. Her voice was tired but cheerful. Of course, my dear, you can come over for the weekend. Not this one? Sure, next time. I’d love to see you, I’ve missed you. And have you forgiven me? For him, have you? I saw that you liked him, and I regretted how things turned out a hundred times. Please forgive me, hurting you was the last thing I wanted…
Then he called again to tell her their mom was hospitalized. Lucy needed to come. Two more days of her work commitment, and she would. Just two days, it wasn’t long, was it? Not long, he assured her, come soon, we’ll have the test results and diagnosis by then.
When Lucy arrived, it was too late to see her mom. He stood in the hospital corridor, his eyes vacant, still handsome, yet distant. He looked at her heavily, then turned to the window.
After the funeral, Lucy wandered through her mom’s apartment like a phantom. She rearranged things, washed clean dishes, brewed and poured out tea several times, cleaned the windows.
He kept himself busy too. He came home late, didn’t eat dinner, quietly went to the bedroom.
One day, when he was out, Lucy peeked inside. The room bore the scent of her mom’s perfume and previous happiness. Her heart ached on seeing her mother’s photos everywhere—on the dresser, walls, bedspread… She shut the door abruptly.
She thought she never truly understood them and suspected she never would.
