As a parent, it feels like you blink your eyes and suddenly your little children are somehow grown up. Whether I could believe it or not, my stepdaughter's last year of high school had begun.
When she was younger, it seemed so hard to get her ready each year: the new clothes to replace the ones she had outgrown, the school supplies, the scheduling, the paperwork, the team uniforms and equipment, the lunch plan, and all that. But after so many years' practice, we had the "back to school" thing pretty much mastered - just in time for the era to end.
The first several weeks of school passed smoothly, if not happily. Tracie and I would still often see each other at home in the evenings, and I still made a point to attend her matches, but there was a definite distance growing between us. I was busy working, and Tracie was busy with classes and volleyball, especially since she was now co-captain of the varsity team.
Tracie's selection as co-captain surprised no one, because of her stellar performance as well as her natural leadership skills. She could be effectively bossy, as I well knew!
It also surprised no one that Mackenzie McClintock, her teammate and former short-lived girlfriend, had been made co-captain for the year. Mackenzie wasn't much of a leader, nor even an above-average player, but she did have the advantage that her mother Margie was head of the team's booster club, and Margie wasn't above using her influence.
I assume Margie never knew about her daughter's summer fling with my daughter. But I knew. And I also knew Mackenzie was a dirty little heart-breaker.
I worried it would be upsetting to Tracie to lead the team with her former girlfriend, but I couldn't ever get my stepdaughter to talk about it.
In fact, we hardly talked about much of anything anymore. At first, I blamed it on Tracie's busier schedule, but gradually I realized, she just didn't want to talk to me.
I kept working out in the mornings and a few evenings each week, like my daughter had trained me. But she was getting all her exercise with her team during after-school practices, so we didn't share that anymore, either.
I actually found myself sad that Tracie was no longer strict with me, like when she started the blackmail. At least we had more interaction when all that was going on. Now, maybe she trusted me to not drink again. Or, as time went on, I feared that maybe she just cared less. It didn't help that she often left the house in the mornings without even saying goodbye.
I guess I had gotten what I wanted: Tracie didn't need me as much anymore. Now I missed her - all the more because, in less than a year, she'd be going off to college, and maybe somewhere far away.
One workday in early October, I was alone on my lunch break, admiring the beauty of autumn leaves changing color, but feeling the melancholy of fall. I decided I wouldn't let my stepdaughter drift any further from me.
I sent her a text, "Hi beautiful. I need some new work clothes. Shop with me tonight after practice?"
She didn't reply. For hours, I kept imagining Tracie in her class at school, frowning at my message on her phone. I wanted to send a follow-up text, asking for a response, but I forced myself to hold back.
Finally, just before the school day ended, I heard the ding of Tracie's reply. I almost dropped my phone trying to get to it so fast. Her text simply read, "ok."
For me, so much was riding on that two-letter response. I couldn't give my daughter what she wanted from me, but I still needed my baby girl.
I left work a bit early so Tracie wouldn't have to wait long for me after she got home. When I walked in the house, she was sitting on the couch, looking at her phone. I was encouraged that she had changed into some cute clothes and put on more makeup than she wore to school.
I said, "Hi sweetie. I'm so glad you're coming with me. We'll have a nice little shopping night. How was school?"
My stepdaughter shrugged without looking up from her phone.
I said, "How was practice?"
Same reaction.
I knew I had to be patient. Tracie's attitude toward me had been cool at best for a while. I was just glad she had agreed to go out with me.
I said, "Maybe we can get some dinner on the road, between stores, huh? Maybe Indian food?"
She said flatly, "I'm only going shopping with you if we go somewhere for me, too."
"We can do that."
Still not looking up, she said, "And I want sushi."
"You got it."
The drive to the first store was awkward. Tracie connected her phone to the car stereo and played one song after another without saying a word. I figured it best if I didn't try talking too much. I listened to her music. The lyrics all seemed to be about tortured love and broken hearts.
As we walked from the car to the first store, Tracie trailed behind me, still sullen.
I said, "They've got a good sale going on. I need some pants and blouses, maybe a blazer or two."
My daughter remained in no mood for chit-chat. When I picked things off the racks and showed them to her, her responses consisted mainly of nodding yes, shrugging maybe, or shaking her head no.
Once I had a little pile of approved things, I asked Tracie if she'd come with me while I tried them on. She shrugged, which was agreement enough to make me happy.
For me, trying on clothes with a friend was always fun - a bonding experience. In the dressing room, Tracie sat impassively while I took my work clothes off, though she did watch closely.
As I tried things on, she looked me up and down. She continued to share her opinions mostly with gestures, but she started adding a few syllables like,
meh, nope,
and
sure.
Her frosty attitude seemed to be slowly thawing, at least a little.
Decisions made, I dressed back up in my own clothes. I asked Tracie, "Did you want to find something for yourself?"
"Not here," she said. "I'm hungry. And then I want to go somewhere that I have in mind."
We stopped at a nearby sushi place for dinner, something we hadn't done together in a long time. I was so happy to sit with my girl, dipping pieces of roll in soy sauce. She still wasn't very talkative, but I got out of her a couple tidbits about her day at school. It brightened my heart that we were getting closer to having a normal mother-daughter shopping trip.
As we finished our meal, I asked her, "So, where's this place you want to go?"
A sly smile crept across my daughter's face. She said, "I'll give you directions in the car."
Back on the road, Tracie read out the driving directions from her phone. I had no idea where we were going. Wherever it was, it wasn't very close to home.
The drive went on and on. The sun set and dusk was growing darker. I was about to ask how much further we had to go.
Just then, she said, "Pull into this next parking lot."
I looked where she was pointing and said, "Tracie, please tell me you're kidding."
"Nope. Turn."
I pulled into a small parking lot next to a small, free-standing store lit up with pink neon lights. The display windows were full of risqué outfits and lingerie. The sign said,
Martina's for Lovers
