Married With Stepchildren by Tonya Thomas

Author:Tonya Thomas
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: marriage, emotional, exwife, stepparent, remarriage, stepdaughters, stepparenting, financial hardship

The next morning, Shirley called to tell us about the funeral plans. Ron put the call on the speaker phone.

“Funeral?” I asked. “With a casket and everything?”

“Of course,” Shirley said.

“I agree, a service could help Marcy over her loss, but wouldn’t a low-key observance be more appropriate?”

“Heather was my first grandchild, and we’ll do what we damn well please,” Shirley said coldly. Then her voice changed.

“Of course, you’ll want to help the kids out with the expenses.”

Ron and I looked at each other. We hadn’t even been told the baby was a girl.

“I thought Marcy made good money—” I started.

“This is no time to be mercenary, Elise,” Shirley snapped.

“I’ll call tomorrow with the details.”

Two days later, we walked through the pouring rain into St. John’s church for the high mass to honor Marcy’s stillborn baby. Afterwards, Shirley threw a lavish gathering at her new home. I studied her furnishings, and the tastefully decorated rooms and tried not to feel jealous, remembering the bare walls and floors in our own home.

I felt bad about the baby, and maybe it was only my imagination, but Marcy seemed to be basking in the attention, playing up her grief as though to a movie camera. When I

went to retrieve our coats, I found her in the spare bedroom with a calculator in hand, adding up the checks she’d received from the other relatives.

I scurried out and, as we were leaving, some newcomers arrived.

I heard Brittney introduce Vinnie as her stepfather, while I had been introduced as “Dad’s wife.” For some reason, that bothered me.

“Did you notice Shirley’s new Lexus in the driveway?” Ron asked as we left what had turned into rather a festive party.

“Sure did,” I said, but bit my tongue to keep from blurting that it certainly looked better than my nine-year-old wreck.

Ron wrote a check out the next morning, payable to Marcy.

We never knew if she applied it to the funeral.

Tiffany missed the entire first week of school, saying she needed to be with and comfort her sister, but we suspected she spent most of that time with her boyfriend. She did drop by to remind Ron that he’d always paid for her schoolbooks. Could she count on him again?

“Haven’t we done enough?” I asked Ron, as he closed the door behind her.

“We’ve talked about this before. As her father, I have an obligation to—”

“I understand that, but why can’t she get a job—help pay for some of her own expenses? You put yourself through college.”

“She’s in a strange city, a new school—”

“With a new major,” I reminded him. “That means an extra year or more in expense, too.” My anger swelled. How many times had we had this discussion? I already knew how it would end. “I’m going for a walk,” I said, “before I say something we’ll both regret.”

Depression settled over me as I passed all our neighbors’ manicured lawns, taking in the cheerful, late blooming annuals and chrysanthemums decorating their yards. Our yard had no flowers. I asked myself for the millionth time, was I better off with Ron or without him.

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