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My head's spinning after seeing my stepmother and my half-siblings. Feelings I hold inside seem to be working their way out tonight in my irritated actions. I can’t keep all of the many reactions I have at seeing them here bottled up forever. So I settle on letting out my anger and frustration. It must be a coping mechanism, but it fills me nonetheless.
I hold a significant amount of resentment towards my father for marrying her, to begin.How exactly can you move on so suddenly after your wife dies? Not just move on, but build a whole new family?I think to myself.
For some reason, I find the concept hard to grasp. My father always said that my mother was the only one for him. As far as I can see, that only lasted about twenty minutes after her death.
I guess I just fail to see what losing her ever meant to him. I mean, hell, it doesn't even seem like he mourned her. Just a quick fix to an empty bed, and he seems to have found happiness all over again.
When my mother died, I became riddled with grief. She was the type of woman who was impossible to replace, truly one in a million.How is he able to move on so quickly? I still can't move on, so fuck if I know.
I thought I’d be okay seeing them tonight. I wasn’t entirely unsurprised, just caught off guard to realize it was harder than I thought. My frustration increasingly grows as I stand in this house, being welcomed by them all like nothing's wrong. I know it isn't my stepmother or stepsibling's fault, but I have never been able to get past it enough to let them in.
I watch how warmly my stepmother Debra and her children welcome Amber. They greet her with hugs and casual conversation as though she’s been here for years. They regard her with the utmost respect, which infuriates me in a way I don't understand.
I grab Amber’s hand and pull her behind me into the kitchen. As I do, I hear Debra say, “I'm so excited to meet you. I can't tell you how thrilled I am that Kaden found somebody to hold his heart, especially someone as beautiful as you.”
Suddenly, my entire demeanor shifts, and I feel an overwhelming warmth in my heart for them all. They’re being so good to her. In a way, it makes me feel bad for my feelings toward them.
My stepmother said she’s happy for me,I think to myself solemnly, wondering why I can’t let her in. Conflict boils inside of me, and I feel torn. There’s a battle raging inside me, and it’s eating me alive. Part of me wants to embrace them all now, apologizing for my behavior. But, deep down, I'm not ready for that yet.
I want my mother to be the one greeting us and calling Amber her daughter. I don’t understand why she was taken from me, from us. Amber would have loved her, and she would have been so proud of me.The pain, guilt, and anger gut-punches me again.
I'm clearly still mourning my mother’s death, and I'm unsure how to cope. Is there even a way to cope with the fact that she was here for far too short, missing important details of my life? Especially now, when a mother needs to be here for her son to experience his new wife.
Debra turns towards me with caution on her face and approaches me. She smiles warmly and extends her arms to embrace me.
I falter, then sidestep her entirely and head for the balcony door. I can almost hear my stepmother’s heartbreak as my steps get farther from her, but I can't find the courage or strength to fight these demons today.
Maybe one day, just not today.
Before I can reach the door, Amber approaches me, matching my stride with what appears to be a puzzled look on her face.
Christ, not her, too. I don't want to break down in front of her.
“What’s wrong?” she asks me softly.
I don't stop moving in my path to the back door as I shake my head at her, hopefully signaling I don't want to talk about it. After what feels like five miles, I finally reach the door and step outside to the balcony.
I'm not trying to disregard Amber, but I know if I had stopped, I would have broken down. I don't need her to see it today.
The cool outside air rushes into my lungs the moment I step outside. I breathe it in deeply, trying to ground myself. But I can’t seem to block out the pain and confusion no matter how hard I try.
She’s so good to Amber, and I'm being an asshole in return. She isn’t my mother, though. I would love for my mother to be here to meet Amber and greet her the same way.
A solitary tear rolls down my cheek as I reach into my pocket and pull out a small book of matches and a Cohiba Cigar. Within seconds, the cigar is lit. I take a deep puff. The smoky, sweet taste filling my mouth gives me a sense of calmness.
The Cubans know how to make a cigar. I'll give them that,I think before taking another long drag.One of the perks of having a lot of money is Cuban cigars. A small smile forms on my face.At least one small thing helps fill the void.
I settle into a comfortable outside loveseat. I quickly shift my gaze to the stars, instantly mesmerized. I can’t help but wonder if my mother is watching me right now, chewing my ass out for this very cigar. A half smile crosses my face again.
Suddenly, the door opens as Amber delicately steps out onto the balcony. She looks at me as if I’m an object to be handled carefully. It appears she knows I'm hurting in my own little way.
Amber shuts the door behind her, sealing us away from the rest of my family in the house. They are undoubtedly wondering why I am the way I am. She slowly walks to where I'm sitting and joins me on the loveseat.
Thankfully she doesn’t say anything. I'm grateful because I need a few minutes to collect myself.
Hence the isolation and the cigar. I wonder if I'm going to get a lecture for this,I wonder for a moment, but Amber doesn't seem like that type. In fact, she seems to be genuinely concerned for me. Amber suddenly reaches over and sets her hand on my free hand.
I finally gain the courage to look at her, meeting her gorgeous hazel eyes with my strong blue ones. I'm willing myself not to cry as my emotions overtake me. After a few minutes, Amber suddenly breaks the silence.
