The household is in turmoil, and even home brings no joy.
“I hate him! He’s not my father! He can just leave—we’ll manage without him,” Lisa fumes bitterly about her stepdad.
I never understood this family feud. Why couldn’t they just get along? Little did I know the bitterness brewing beneath the surface.
…Lisa had a younger half-sister, Edie—the shared child of her mum and stepdad. From the outside, it seemed he treated both girls the same. But that wasn’t the full story. Lisa never rushed home after school. She’d time her return carefully, ensuring her “enemy number one” had already left for work. If he was still home, she’d lose her temper.
She’d whisper to me, “He’s here, Vicky—stay in my room, yeah?” Then she’d lock herself in the bathroom until he left. The moment the front door clicked shut, she’d emerge, sighing in relief. “Finally! You’re lucky, Vicky—you’ve got your real dad. I’m stuck with this mess.” She’d drag me to the kitchen for dinner.
Lisa’s mum was a brilliant cook. In that house, meals were sacred—breakfast, lunch, tea, supper, all meticulously planned. Whenever I visited, there was always a warm spread waiting. Pots and pans covered with tea towels, everything ready.
Lisa used to despise Edie, ten years her junior. She’d tease her, pick fights—but years later, they’d become inseparable.
Lisa would marry, have a daughter, then move the whole family (minus the stepdad) to Israel. Later, she’d have another girl. Edie never married but helped raise Lisa’s kids. Distance only tightened their bond.
Lisa’s real dad? She wrote to him until he died. He’d remarried, but she was his only child.
Growing up with both parents, I never grasped why my friends resented their stepdads—until I saw their lives firsthand.
Take Sarah. Her mum and stepdad were hopeless drunks. She never invited anyone over—ashamed of the shouting, the threats, the occasional slap. But by fifteen, Sarah could hold her own. They left her alone after that.
“Vicky, come to my birthday!” she announced one day.
I hesitated. “Your house? Won’t your stepdad kick me out?”
“Let him try,” she scoffed. “Mum gave me my real dad’s address. He’s got my back now. Just come.”
Her birthday was… sparse. A bowl of curry, sliced bread, lemonade in chipped glasses, and crumbling pastries. Her parents just stood there, watching. In the corner, her grandma wheezed from the bed, “Don’t drink, love—you’ll forget me.”
Sarah stiffened. “Gran, it’s just lemonade.”
I ate politely, left early. Youth had better things to do than sit with the old and sour.
Sarah would lose her mum, stepdad, and gran within a year. Never married, no kids—just a string of failed romances, including my ex-husband. She took him in briefly, but it fizzled. Guess some folks just don’t mesh.
Then there’s Tanya. Fourteen, living with her stern older sister, Annie. Their mum visited weekly with groceries, though she’d left her second husband (Tanya’s dad) to return to her first (Annie’s dad). I envied Tanya’s freedom—no rules, no watchful eyes.
She’d marry young, have a daughter. Then her husband got locked up, and Tanya drank herself to death by forty-two. Annie found her.
Lastly, Nicky—the new girl in Year 10. Gorgeous, with a voice like honey. Every boy fancied her, but she only had eyes for Jack. He’d pick her up after school in his car, whisking her off somewhere.
Nicky’s dad died when she was nine. She barely passed her exams but sang like an angel. She and Jack formed a band, performed at school dances. When Jack left for the army, Nicky wept at the station—but didn’t wait. She had a son (father unknown), moved back with her mum.
Jack forgave her when he returned. “Come with me,” he begged. She refused. “You’ll throw the kid in my face forever. I’d rather be alone.”
Years later, she’d marry a farmer, move to the countryside.
These girls were my friends—yet they couldn’t stand each other.
Now, Lisa and I still chat, laughing over old school antics. She swears she’ll protect her own family: “My girls won’t suffer like I did with a stepdad. If you’re gonna row, do it with blood—not some stranger. Time heals real family. A stepdad? That’s a wound that never closes.”
As for Sarah and Nicky? Their trails have gone cold.
