Lesbian Stepmother (20 page)

“I hate to be a party pooper,” he said.
“But I really do have a lot of work to catch up on.”

“That’s fine,” I said. I began to
put the cards away.

Susan watched me for a moment, and when my father stood
up from his chair she leaned forward and grinned at me. “Maybe
we could play a few hands, Amy. Just the two of us.”

I loved the idea. My father, however, seemed startled
by it.

“Really?” he asked her.

“Sure. You wanted us to get to know each other a
little, right?”

“Yeah. Of course. I just...” He looked
at me. “You don’t have any homework you need to get
done?”

“I did it before dinner.” He could be hard
to figure out sometimes. I wasn’t sure what he wanted or
expected us to do. I think what it all came down to was that he was
uncomfortable when he wasn’t working, and was so socially
awkward, even with only his daughter and his supposed girlfriend,
that he needed to escape. “You can get some work done, and
we’ll play a few hands.”

He picked up his little drink and took a sip. “You
don’t mind?” he asked Susan.

She looked up at him. “I’m perfectly
fine.” She grinned. “I want to see if I can beat her.”

My father nodded, trying to smile. Then he leaned over
and gave her a little kiss on the mouth. He looked very
uncomfortable doing it, and it made me wonder again what exactly was
going on between them. “Okay. You two have fun. I’ll
be in the living room.”

After he left, I shuffled the cards again and started
to deal. “Same game okay?”

“Same game is fine.” Susan collected up
her cards and took a peek at what she had. I watched her as she
examined them, feeling a little excited being alone with her. I
can’t tell you how much I wanted to lean across the table and
kiss her. And it wouldn’t be one of those dry little pecks my
father gave her, either.

She looked up, catching me staring. She smiled at me,
leaning back in her chair. “Trying to read my expression?”

“No. I’m sorry.” I tried to
concentrate on the card game before I got too distracted. It felt
like a strange sort of punishment, sitting there with her knowing
that there was nothing I could do or say that would change the
situation. If only she were my friend and not my father’s; I
wouldn’t even care about the age difference. In fact, I kind
of liked it.

We played a couple of hands, and she beat me both
times. She seemed to be enjoying the game, and I was completely
distracted by her presence and her perfume and her stunning
appearance. I know this sounds bad, but I kept having little
fantasies about showing her my room and the two of us ending up
climbing into my bed together. She was so cute I could barely stand
it!

We chatted on and off, but not about anything terribly
interesting. She caught me starting at her a few more times, and
each time I smiled and looked away, embarrassed. Finally, during our
third hand, she caught me again and asked me if everything was okay.

“Fine,” I said.

“You keep looking at me funny. Do I make you
nervous?”

“No!” I took a deep breath and looked at
her again. There were a lot of things I wanted to ask her, and now
seemed like a good time. Of course, there was no way I was going to
tell her the reason I was really staring at her, so instead I said,
“I was just looking at you because I’m trying to figure
out why you like my father.” I said it quietly so that there
was no way he could overhear.

Susan seemed surprised by my statement. She peeked
into the doorway to make sure he wasn’t lurking with an ear
cocked, and then looked back to me. “Is there a reason I
shouldn’t?”

“No. I mean, I just...” I fidgeted with
the cards in my hand, wondering how to phrase my thoughts. “You
seem like maybe you’re too good for him.”

Her face broke into a smile. She leaned forward
conspiratorially and laid her cards flat on the table. “What?”
she whispered. “Why do you say that?”

“You just... you seem so nice. There’s
nothing at all wrong with you.”

“Should there be?”

“Of course not. I mean... I just don’t
understand...” I shrugged, not even sure myself what I was
talking about. “He seems kind of boring, and you look like you
could have any guy you wanted. It just makes me wonder why you chose
him.”

She was still smiling. “I didn’t really
choose
him. We’ve
been working together for over a year now, and we’ve gotten
very close.”

“You don’t find him... kind of drab?”

Susan giggled at my choice of words. “Listen. I
understand what you’re getting at. At least I think I do. But
I’ve had several boyfriends over the last decade, and all of
them turned out to be complete shits. Pardon my French. Your father
is actually a very nice man. I’m sure you know that.”

I liked her more and more every minute. “I do.
I’m sorry for prying.”

She reached across the table and took my hand in hers.
It caused my heart to begin racing, and I leaned forward to be closer
to her. If she had any idea how attracted to her I was, she’d
probably run into the other room.

“You’re not prying, sweetheart,” she
whispered. “You have every right to ask me anything you want.
But please don’t think I’m interested in your father for
some ulterior motive. I’m not. I absolutely promise you that.
I spent the last ten years being verbally and emotionally and
physically abused by a small assortment of assholes. I can’t
deal with that anymore. I promised myself, never again.”

“I’m so sorry.” I squeezed her hand.
The thought of anyone hurting her broke my heart.

“You don’t need to be. None of it is your
fault.”

“I know. I just... I feel bad for what you’ve
been through.”

“Thank you. Anyway, since I’m telling you
this, the last man I was with put me in the hospital. He broke two
of my ribs. That was the last straw. As soon as I was able to, I
got my own apartment and shut myself off from everyone. I was alone
for quite awhile. I wanted to be alone. I liked it, and it was
safe. Then I met your father, and, well, we just kind of got along
well. We like each other. He’s very kind, and very
considerate. Very gentle. I’m not frightened around him.
That’s important to me. I’ve never known a man like that
before.”

I nodded. She seemed so sincere.

“I got tired of being alone, Amy. And tired of
being abused. I hope you understand.”

I could see tears welling in her eyes and it made me
feel terrible. Still holding her hand, I suddenly stood up,
prompting her to do the same. Then I pulled her into a hug, wrapping
my arms around her and holding her. “I do,” I told her.
“I’m so sorry.”

Susan stiffened for a moment and then relaxed,
returning my embrace. She felt so wonderful in my arms and I briefly
felt guilty for holding her, even though I really was only doing it
because I wanted to make her feel better. Her body molded to mine
perfectly, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like
to kiss her. I could feel her heart beating against my chest and I
wanted to cry myself. Not just because of what she’d told me,
but because she was so close to what I wanted and it seemed to me she
was being wasted. First by the men in her past and now by my father.
It was a mean thought in relation to my father, but it’s how I
felt.

After a short moment she pulled away, wiping her face.
“Thank you for that.” She smiled at me, so sweetly.
“You’re as kind as your father. I wasn’t expecting
that.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I do.” She sat back down and took a small
sip of her scotch.

I joined her at the table, and scooped up my cards. “I
hope I didn’t freak you out by hugging you. You just looked so
sad...”

“You didn’t freak me out at all. I thought
it was sweet.” She looked at me earnestly. “I was
actually really nervous about coming here tonight and meeting you. I
feel silly now. If I’d have known how nice you were, and how
much I was going to like you, I would have been begging Jeffrey to
let me come over sooner.”

Her words warmed my heart. “I’m glad
you’re here. It gets really... boring around here.” I
was going to say lonely, but thought better of it. I had a feeling I
would be even more lonely if she lived there, as long as she was
someone else’s.

“Maybe I could come back again soon. I could
bring another nice dinner.”

I smiled. “That would be great.”

“What’s your favorite meal? Perhaps I
could make it for you.”

I thought about it. “After tonight, it may very
well be vegetable lasagna.”

Susan laughed at that and I felt it all the way to my
core. I was actually falling in love with her. It seemed completely
insane. “Maybe I’ll just have to bring another one.”

I nodded. “You could bring anything you want.
Or I could make something, and give you a break.”

She grinned at me. “Maybe we could cook together
sometime.”

“I’d love that.”

“I think I would too.”

We sat looking at each other for a moment and then she
reached across the table and took my hand again. I loved it when she
did that. “So you don’t have any problem with me seeing
your father? You’re really okay with it?”

No
, I
wanted to say.
I’d prefer it if you saw
me, instead
. But there was no way I could
tell her that. It would probably make her loathe me, anyway. “I’m
fine with it, Susan. I like you.”

She squeezed my hand and beamed. “I like you,
too. I think we’re going to be very close.”

“I hope so.”

She released my hand and I was just reaching for my
soda when my father stepped back into the room.

“How are you two doing?”

We both smiled and nodded. “Fine.”

Chapter 6

For several days after meeting Susan, I was in a daze.
You should have a pretty good idea by now how emotional I am and how
every little thing has an almost profound effect upon me. I thought
about her day and night, always wondering what she was doing and what
she was wearing and what she was thinking. I had hundreds of little
fantasies about her, almost all of them fairly innocent but still
probably unconventional enough to be considered detestable by society
in general. Of course, I didn’t care much for society; I never
had.

I drifted through the days, thinking about Susan and
little else. I began to ask my father when she was going to be
coming back again, but he was unsure and a little bit confused as to
why I was so interested. I simply told him that I liked her, and
left it at that. He seemed glad that I did, but it seemed to me that
I spent more time thinking about her than he did, which was strange.

* * *

It was a full week after her first visit when Susan
finally came back. My father informed me the night before, and I
spent the whole night lying in bed thinking about her. I held my
pillow to my breast and pretended it was her, kissing her softly and
telling her how beautiful she was. It probably sounds sad and
pathetic to you, but while I was doing it it felt wonderful. My
imagination is very good and I almost felt like she was really there
with me. It got soI wanted her not just physically, but with all my
heart.

School dragged on slower than ever that day. I’d
look at the clock every few minutes only to realize the minute hadn’t
changed. It seemed crazy that I was so excited about seeing her,
when she really had so little to do with me. It made me wish more
than ever that I had a real girlfriend, and the sadness poured over
me. I was such a mess.

When I finally got home, I took a shower. I didn’t
normally do that, but I wanted to be clean and fresh, just in case
she noticed. I thought about getting dressed up nice, too, but then
it occurred to me that she was not only my father’s girlfriend,
but that she liked men. Who was I kidding? I got dressed back into
my school clothes and sat on the couch, trying to get my homework out
of the way.

Soon my father got home, and he went about his little
clean-up routine. I was glad this time around, because it showed me
that he cared enough about her to bother, and I felt she deserved as
much. At least I hoped she did. I really didn’t know her very
well, despite my infatuation with her.

We sat around, him sipping his first scotch since the
previous week while doing paperwork, and me reading my Celine book.
It seemed now that I’d met his friend and approved of her, he
didn’t feel the need to talk to me anymore. That was fine; I
was used to it.

Susan arrived a little before six. I was just starting
to worry that she wasn’t going to make it when I heard her car
pull up. This time it was me who got excited; my father just sat
there, scribbling faster with his pen as if he knew a major
distraction was imminent. I got up and answered the door just before
she had a chance to knock, or ring the bell, or whichever one she’d
choose if given the chance.