The world is a mess, and the house isnt any better, Emily snarled, eyes blazing. I hate him! He isnt my father! Let him get out. Well survive without him, she roared at her stepfather, the words crackling like a storm.
I stood there, bewildered by the clash. Why couldnt they simply get along? The heat that boiled inside those walls was invisible to me.
Emilys younger halfsister, Lucy, was the child of both her mother and the stepfather. From the outside it seemed the stepfather treated Lucy and Emily equally, but that was only a spectators view. In truth, Emily never rushed home after school. She timed every moment, waiting for the exact minute her greatest enemyher loathloving stepfatherwould leave for work. When fate miscalculated and he lingered, Emily would slip away, escaping the shore as she called it.
She whispered to me, Emily, stay in my room. Then she slammed herself into the bathroom, waiting for the front door to click shut. The instant the stepfather turned the key, she burst from her selfimposed prison, exhaling a sigh of relief. Hes finally gone! Megan, youre luckyyour real dad is home. Me? Im stuck here. Its all so sad, she muttered, the words heavy. Come on, lets head to the kitchen for lunch.
Emilys mother, Margaret, ran the household with military precision. Meals were a ritualbreakfast, tea, afternoon snack, dinnereach measured for calories and vitamins. Whenever I visited, a steaming plate waited on the table, pots and pans draped in cloth as if awaiting the next feast.
I remembered how Emily despised Lucy, ten years her junior. She teased, taunted, even fought with her. Years later the two would become inseparable, like water flowing from the same spring.
Emily would someday marry, have a daughter, and the whole familyexcept the stepfatherwould move permanently to Australia. Twelve years later shed bear another little girl. Lucy would remain unmarried, yet devote herself to helping Emily raise her children. In that faroff land the sisters would grow even closer. Emily kept up a steady correspondence with her biological father until his death; he had a second wife, and Emily was his only child.
Even though I grew up with both a real mother and father, all my school friends were fatherless. In childhood Id never understood their resentment toward stepfathers. It turned out their lives were far from easy.
Sarahs mother and stepfather were chronic drinkers. Sarah felt ashamed of them, never inviting anyone over. She knew the stepfather would scold and her mother would back him up with a heavy hand. But after she turned fifteen she could defend herself, and they left her alone. Megan, Im inviting you to my birthday, Sarah announced brightly. I hesitated. Your house? Im a bit nervous, Sarah. Wont the stepfather throw us out? Let him try! Ive had enough of his rule. Mom gave me my real dads address. Hes my safety now. He lives nearby. Come, Megan. Moms bustling, Sarah declared, fierce as ever.
The day of Sarahs sixteenth birthday arrived. I brought a small gift and knocked on the door. Sarah opened, all dressed up, and greeted, Hey, come in! Have a seat. Her mother and stepfather stood stiffly by the table, nodding in unison.
The party spread lay on a worn vinyl cloth: a large bowl of pilaf, a loaf of sliced bread, lemonade in crystal glasses, each glass topped with a crisp pastry. That was it. Yet Sarah seemed proud of these modest feast items.
I thought of my own birthday, when my mother spent the whole day at the stoveboiling, frying, baking. Salads, roasts, fish, pies, cake, juice, compote Every household has its own soundtrack.
I ate the pilaf with a piece of bread, washed it down with lemonade, and set the crumbly pastry aside, fearing it would ruin the cloth. Sarahs mother and stepfather remained statuesque, watching us. In the corner, a bed held Sarahs grandmother, who muttered, Olive, dont drink! Youll forget about me and stop feeding us. Sarah blushed, Grandma, dont worry, Mum doesnt drink. Its just lemonade, no spirits. The old woman turned toward the wall, croaking, Thank you for the tasty food! I rose from the table. Sarah and I hurried awayyouth has a thousand other things to do; we werent meant to linger with the elderly.
Within a year Sarah would lose her mother, stepfather, and grandmother. At twentyfive she would stand alone, never marrying, never having children. Suitors came and went; one of them would be my exhusband. Sarah would briefly shelter him, but nothing would blossomher temperament simply didnt cooperate.
I also knew Tanya. We were both fourteen. Tanya lived with her older sister, Anne, who had just turned eighteen. Anne seemed aloof, strict, sensible. Their mother visited weekly, bringing groceries and cooking, while still married to her first husband. Anne was born from that first marriage; Tanya came from the second. After a brief stint with her second husband, their mother returned to her first husband, leaving Tanya free to roam. I envied Tanyas independenceher mother, forever smoothing over past mistakes, kept a herd of admirers for Anne, while Tanya was left to fend for herself.
Tanya would later marry, have a daughter, and then see her husband sentenced to a long term in prison. She would drown herself in drink. At fortytwo her sister Anne would find her dead in the flat.
Nina would be the new girl in our Year Ten class. I befriended her instantlypretty, with a sculpted figure and a lilting voice. The boys swooned over Nina, but she had a boyfriend, James. He arrived in his car after school, whisked his goddess away to unknown places.
Ninas father died before she turned ten. She struggled academically but sang beautifully. She and James formed a band, performing at school discos. When James was called up for National Service, Nina escorted him to the station, shedding a tear, but never looked back. She bore a son from an unknown father, living with her mother. James returned from service, begged forgiveness, and asked her to return, but she rejected him, Youll spend your whole life blaming me for being a mother. Id rather be alone.
When Ninas son grew up, she would marry a farmer and move to the countryside.
All these friends existed in my life at the same time, yet they never got along with each other. In fact, they could not stand the sight of one another.
Now I only write occasionally to Emily, my childhood confidante, who swears she will protect her family at any cost: I wont let my daughters suffer what I did, living under a stepfathers roof. If there are conflicts, they should be with my real dad, not a stranger. Blood ties will grind everything down. The stepfather is a wound that will never heal.
Sometimes Emily and I laugh over the mischief we caused at school. The traces of Sarah and Nina have faded into oblivion.
