When I was younger, I thought meeting him would fix all my problems. Life with Mom was strange, erratic. She kind of hopped from boyfriend to boyfriend, never really single, never really taken. I guess I was taken care of all right - I was pretty independent. Always had a small, cozy home, and Mom was mostly either at work or out with the current guy.
That's why I was so excited when she said we were moving in with Dad. I had never really understood what had happened. She told me they dated in college. They had had a disagreement, and the relationship didn't last. Somehow, I ended up in her life. I'm still not sure how they made up, but I noticed she became even more distant and hooked onto her phone during that time before her announcement, and ever since. She acts all giddy and young. I couldn't really fault her, I suppose.
It was a Friday afternoon. It was summer vacation, just after I graduated high school and a week after my 18th birthday. I was in the back seat of our beat up car, holding a bag with all my belongings. A small luggage containing my clothes was in the trunk. I was quite surprised when she drove us into a nice suburban area in the close outskirts of a major city. The house she parked in front of was much larger and nice than anywhere I'd been before - a beautiful, classic house in a nice neighborhood. Dad must have done well for himself, but why was the house so big? Did he have a family? Were we going to intrude?
I hung back as Mom quickly got her stuff out. At 37, she was still a very pretty woman, although immature. She was a bit shorter than me, around 5'2", dirty blonde, and still rocking the slender body of her youth, although she had some wrinkles and stretch marks that betrayed her age. I was pulling out my luggage when I saw her walking up the steps to the porch. She was wearing a blouse and tight pencil skirt, black stilettos of about 4 inches. Classic. I watched her knock on the door as I waited by the sidewalk. I was reluctant - I had never met the man!
The door open and a large man came out. 6'2", broad shouldered, built. A mountain of a man to a teenage girl like me. He looked angry, and I heard shouts. There was an immediate disagreement between him and my mom, but the I saw him peer out at me from the doorway. It seemed to calm down after that, and I saw my mom motion to me. I walked up to the doorway, following her, but she didn't really wait for me. I think I saw tears, but she wouldn't look at me.
The man stood in the entryway. Grizzled face with the beginning of a black beard sprinkled with silver. His flannel shirt and khakis almost made him look like a lumberjack, and with his body, you'd believe it. Taut, lean muscles that you could see through the fabric, but nothing was disproportional. His eyes were a deep blue, piercing, charming but almost scary.
Mom started to speak, but he cut her off. "I'll show you to your rooms. The house is generally pretty empty, I'm at work during the day and there's no one else here. Don't make a mess."
A charming welcome, I'm sure. We followed him nonetheless. Upstairs was a corridor, with windows on one side with a view into the backyard, and rooms on the other. "Jenny, your room is here." I nodded. "Linda, your room is here." I was opening my door when I noticed the shock in my mom's eyes.
"Honey, I thought-"
"You thought wrong. I don't want your stuff cluttering my room." And that was it. He walked away, entering his room at the end of the hallway. Mom quickly entered hers, and I went into mine.
It was a cozy room, bigger than what I used to have. Full body mirror on one side, a large closet, and a really cute bed. There was a window with a view to the street. I closed the door. I tried to lock it but I couldn't find any way to - the door didn't have any sort of lock. Maybe Dad didn't see a need to with no one else in the house, but I thought this was a bit strange. Was there any way to ensure privacy? I didn't want attention when I...occupied myself.
I spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking and setting up my room. There wasn't much to do - I put my few shirts, dresses, jeans and skirts in my closet and my shoes on the rack by the door. I put my computer on the wooden desk, set up a few personal things, and spent the rest of the time relaxing on my new bed, texting friends and listening to music.
Around 7, Mom knocked and told me to come downstairs for dinner. I walked right behind her down, joining my two finally reunited parents for a meal. It was very quiet. Dad had ordered a pizza, which we awkwardly shared. He didn't seem very interested in conversation with us, although I saw Mom staring at him with longing. She seemed to want to initiate conversation, but she never mustered the courage to
At the end of dinner, after I threw away my paper plate, Dad finally spoke.
"Jenny."
"Yeah?"
"You didn't have much stuff. If you want to get more...clothes, or whatever girls your age like."
He held up a credit card and offered it to me. I didn't know how to react. This seemingly emotionless stranger was showing me a lot of generosity all of a sudden. Why?
