Mom and dad divorced when I was still fairly young. I saw him every other weekend for a few months after that until he landed a new job out on the West coast. After that, I saw him once a year for a couple of weeks during the summer. Obviously we didn't spend a lot of time together, and because of that, we never were very close.
Though I continued to get a card here and there from him on birthdays, or a parcel with presents in it around Christmas time, dad became for me nothing more than one of those distant relatives that you knew you had and probably enjoyed visiting with whenever you saw him, but with mom eventually remarrying, my stepfather became more of a father to me simply because of circumstance and logistics.
Busy as he was in his business, which I think had contributed greatly to my own parent's breakup, dad never remarried though he'd certainly dated enough women off and on to keep him sexually happy as I later learned.
By the time I had graduated from high school, I was already looking forward to entering into college, wanting to eventually become a marine biologist. As it turned out, some of the best schools for that were on the West coast where I was eventually accepted. By now my parents were getting along reasonably well, and I'd heard them talking on the phone together about my coming out for a visit in order to take a look at a couple of the colleges in the area before deciding which one I wanted to attend. I already had a pretty good idea of what they'd been talking about, and actually found myself in agreement with it when mom called me into the kitchen area.
"Randy, can you come in here for a minute? There's something I want to discuss with you," mom had said.
Sitting down across from her, she began.
"Your father and I agreed that it might be a good idea if you were to go and stay with him for a few weeks while you're looking at which university you'd prefer attending, which I think is a good idea as you can take your time before making any final decisions. There's just one other detail you need to be aware of before doing that."
"What's that?"
"Your dad has a live in girlfriend, someone he's been seeing for the past few months," she told me, which was news to me, as I hadn't been aware he'd been seeing anyone as of late, let alone letting her move in with him, something he hadn't done before.
"Sounds like he's getting serious with this one then," I replied
"I don't know...maybe, but before heading out there, he wanted to make sure you were ok with that before showing up since she'll be there, and though you'll certainly have your own room, you know how small your father's place is. It's apt to feel a bit crowded."
It wasn't exactly a beach house, but it was within walking distance to the beach, which I was looking forward to. The last time I'd even been for a visit was over two years ago, and dad was in the process of remodeling the place then when I'd gone for a visit. With the mess of reconstruction, I'd spent a lot of time at the beach when we weren't sightseeing or going to the amusement parks. His intent had been to extend the small attic into two bedrooms upstairs in a loft overlooking the bottom floor, and then converting what had been then the single large bedroom into a larger living area. I couldn't help but wonder how three of us would keep from tripping over one another's feet. Even so, I looked forward to my arrival and did so three days later.
I have to admit, I was surprised. What had initially been, or looked to be a fairly run-down shack more than home, had been converted into something quite spectacular in comparison to the way I'd last seen it. There was now a large standing deck off the back of the two bedrooms which shared it, each with its own private access, and built just high enough that you could actually see the ocean view from there. It was airy with an opening in the ceiling that could be rolled over and closed whenever there was bad weather or too windy to allow it to remain open. Below, the living room was indeed far more spacious with a conversation pit that dad had had excavated around a small cozy open fire pit, with a semi modernized kitchen that though compact for its small size, was extremely functional.
The only odd thing was as I followed my dad up the stairs to the new bedrooms was the fact that there was no door leading into either one. They were both open, though separated by a wall, but each led out to a small overhanging balcony looking down into the rooms below, thus keeping the 'loft-like' feel to them, but sacrificing whatever privacy might have been needed or required from time to time. Still, it was an interesting set up, and architecturally beautiful in design.
"So where's Kathy?" I asked after tossing my bags onto the bed.
"She should be here anytime now," my father told me. "She's out doing some grocery shopping, thought it might give us a chance to have a little time getting reacquainted before joining us."
As I'd grown older, I had certainly taken on more and more of my father's looks. Mom and dad had only been nineteen when they had me, which was the main reason for their getting married in the first place. And though it had been over eighteen years since that time, dad didn't look a whole lot different now than he had then, a bit more mature looking perhaps, but he'd kept himself in great physical shape, had a natural California tan most of the time without overdoing it, and had maintained the same thick dark hair that I had, along with matching hazel colored eyes that made us look even more alike in comparison.
"Darla's gonna love you!" Dad said slyly.
"Darla? Who's Darla?" I asked then.
"Mom didn't tell you?" he asked in surprise.
"Ah no...she didn't," I stated, suddenly concerned. In my mind, I had this picture of some snot-nosed teenage kid that would constantly be hanging around me.
"Hmm," dad mused. "Wonder why?" he said more to himself, before speaking directly to me. "Well, Darla's Kathy's daughter of course, she's currently attending a college a bit further North of here, has her own apartment that she shares with some room-mates, though she makes it down for a visit every other weekend or so, "he explained. "Anyway, we thought it would be nice for her to come down for a visit next weekend, finally meet you after you'd had a week to yourself settling in."
At least Darla was around my age, slightly older even, which couldn't be all bad, though I still had no idea what she looked like, and found myself asking him.
Dad grinned, "When you meet Kathy, you'll know," he told me. "She's the spitting image of her mother, with blonde hair halfway down her back, blue eyes and a figure most women would die for!" he further explained, then caught me off guard a little as he cupped a pair of imaginary breasts, thus telling me as he did so that Darla was obviously well endowed in that department.
