My mom made sure that our step-dad would become the father that I knew. Speaking of my real one became a taboo.
It didn't help that I resembled my dad and my sister missed him horribly. My step-dad did his best to fill his shoes. He really was wonderful to my sister and I.
He was the rock in our lives when our mom would go into her dark times.This happened frequently.
She would sleep a lot and keep every curtain in the house closed. She would cry and nothing would make her happy. Not even my step-dad. But he was patient.
This crazy part of her would last for weeks on end. Being a little girl it felt like an infinity. As I got older, I would stay home from school and take care of her. I even learned by the time was 8 to scramble eggs, make a mean grilled cheese, and how to heat up a can of Campbell's soup.
My step-dad was the best. He wore a badge of patience. And many times he came home at the right time. He was clearly our guardian angel.
"What are you doing?" My step-dad shook her one evening.
Mom just stared blankly ahead.
A booze bottle and some pills occupied the kitchen counter. Mom had been sitting on a stool staring into space for what seemed like hours. My 3 year-old sister and I tried many times to get her attention. But it was of no use. Our snack time didn't happen that day.
My step-dad grabbed the booze bottle and the pills. He dumped the bottle and threw the pills away. After, he walked mom to their room and tucked her into bed.
That night, my sister, step-dad, and I feasted at the Golden Arches.
To be continued...