Father Figure

I finally found my real Dad!

Mom wouldn’t let me contact him till I turned eighteen, and even then, she would always read our emails to each other. She didn’t like some of the stuff he would say, and a few times made me cut contact if I wanted to keep living in her house, and there’s not much I could do about it. My boyfriend and I had plans to get married and move out, but we needed decent jobs.

Besides, Mom has a bad habit of retconning stories to make herself the hero of any situation, and it’s all about the win. She’s got to win. The conversation, the game, life itself. Always telling me how to treat my friends, what to say, how to act, what to do in every situation.

And for being so religious, I know she cheats at cards. Go big or go home, is her motto – outside of church, anyway.

So I’d email when I could, and was so happy when I realized just how much he’s like me.

Math skills, tech savvy. The way he thinks! So many similarities! I love him so much!

The guy I have to call Dad? Well, he’s okay. He’d always carried a torch for Mom, they grew up together. But Mom wanted something more romantic than a wet blanket. BioDad does cool things, like pewter casting and computer programming. I mean, Dad’s okay and all, he paid the bills and let Mom rule the roost like she always wants to. Mom’s got to be the only adult in the room, and if you don’t do what she wants, you’re punished.

When my boyfriend proposed, we made our plans to escape.

Mom once told me, when she was a bit too drunk, that BioDad was stolen from her. He’d proposed, but she turned him down, because it wasn’t romantic enough. And even though she was pregnant, he just walked away. Mom had to drop out of school, but her friends were still there, and they were working on him, to get him to “do the right thing.” She said there were signs of him caving… till she came along.

She was different. She stood up to Mom’s friends at college, and told them where to stick their meddling. But she also told her boyfriend, my BioDad, to make a freaking decision instead of waffling like a wet noodle. He was paralyzed by anxiety, she said, so came to the conclusion that no decision meant he couldn’t be held responsible for any bad fallout.

And Mom couldn’t punish her and make her behave. Mom’s friends didn’t like being called flying monkeys, and they really didn’t like being put in their place.

I loved it, because here was someone who could stand up to Mom!

We tried getting a place near Mom to live, but there was nothing available. We tried, we really did. Something would always come up – owner is abroad and can’t sign the papers, or sure we’ll rent to you but first I’ve got to ask all the nephews if anyone else wants dibs before you. Or my favorite, the owner keeled over from a heart attack, right after we made an offer and he accepted. Let’s just say his kids didn’t agree with the price.

When the house four doors down from BioDad went up for sale, and my husband’s company bought another company a half-hour’s commute from that town, you’d better believe we made an offer.

In two months we’d moved, and my mom lost her mind.

She accused us of all sorts of nastiness. Abandoning her, choosing the deadbeat dad over the nurturing mother, ingrate, backstabbing, you name it. Even tried to accuse her of taking her rightful husband away from her, and Dad was right there listening! I mean, come on, he’s a wet blanket, but that was mean. BioDad told me that Mom said some unforgivable things to him when he proposed, and he walked away. Woke before his time, really. Mom said no, see ya, so he left. Dad had to propose three freaking times to get it “right,” before Mom would say yes.

Geez, Mom, if you want romance, maybe pick guys who aren’t aromantic?

It was great when we moved in. BioDad and his wife were very welcoming, helped out with getting the house set up, buying extra things for us to make it homey. Making us feel like family.

But then, it started to shift. We couldn’t get together every weekend like I wanted, because they had things to go to. Her family was local, they had family gatherings. I was invited, sure, but I didn’t want her family, I wanted my BioDad. I had missed out on the last twenty years of my life, and I wanted to make up for lost time. I’d dreamed about my dad out there, pining for me, wanting to be a family, and I wanted that for myself now that he was here.

She kept telling me that there needs to be balance. They had other commitments that weren’t me? What the hell?

So I started asking Mom about the past. And BioDad, and his wife, what she was there to witness. And I’d get one version from Mom, and another from BioDad.

Well, okay, I can see BioDad rejecting Mom when she was employing her flying monkeys, but it’s me right here! I’m your daughter, I’m your blood, you have to choose me over the woman you married! That’s the way it’s supposed to be!

And she had the brass balls to tell me that’s not how it works, and BioDad married her, and that bond is more important. That they built a life together, and sure, I could be folded into their lives, but on their terms.

I wasn’t going to take that. Mom may have lost, but I could be better than her, and get what I wanted.

I tried doing what Mom did, like got a dog and got pregnant, so there would be more things tying us to them. Can’t turn down a pregnant woman’s requests, right?

She told me that she could see me trying to play BioDad against Mom, and we weren’t playing that game. Told me to knock it off!

I got really mad. Every time they said no to my requests, no matter how small, I got angrier and angrier.

I wished her dead. Then I could have BioDad all to myself.

And Mom died instead.

I blamed her, of course. If she’d just gone along with my requests, and let me take my proper place with BioDad, where I could make up for all that lost time, everything would have been perfect.

I have dreamed of this relationship all my life. I’m sure she’s got BioDad under her thumb, just like Mom had Dad under hers. Sure, it’s BioDad telling me “no” in texts, but I’m sure it’s her fingers on the keypad, preventing us from having the relationship we should have.

His friends should be my friends, too. Not her friends. Those friends should be realizing what a horrible person she is, and turning their backs, not telling me to knock off my theatrics. They even got BioDad to tell me that Dad’s the one who helped raise me, not himself, and not to look at me as a substitute father. He’s never been a father, and if we can’t be peers, then the relationship is built on lies.

Well, I’m stronger than Mom, and I have kid leverage now.

I did try withholding kid and dog from them, but they, they just – let me. They said they weren’t playing this game, that if we didn’t fix this in therapy, then they would have no relationship with us.

What kind of cold-hearted bastard ignores his own granddaughter?

One who’s under the thumb of an evil stepmother, that’s who.

The therapist didn’t take my side, so I found an excuse to drop him. I’m right! That’s my BioDad, and I want the relationship I’ve always dreamed of!

She says I’m living in a fantasy, and I need to grow up. She doesn’t even have a kid, what does she know about growing up?

And BioDad keeps choosing her over me, and over my kid, over and over.

I mean, sure, we spend every Sunday together, but that’s not enough.

She says the version of my BioDad that I’ve imagined in my head isn’t real, and hasn’t been the real BioDad, ever. That I need to get to know the real him for a friendship to develop, and to stop acting like my mother in trying to manipulate the situation.

What the hell does she know? Her mother’s still alive, so she knows nothing.

I’ll keep trying. Some day, BioDad will see the light, he’ll wake up one morning and realize I’m more important than anyone else in his life. And he’ll divorce that evil woman, and rebuke her lies, and believe everything I say.

Some day.

I’ll keep trying.