The Other Woman

The summer after 8th grade, my dad took my brother and I on a road trip. We drove Northwest and visited Yellowstone National Park, Devil's Tower, Mount Rushmore, Crazy Horse, and probably some other parks and landmarks I'm missing. My brother and I were your typical teenagers. We would sit in the car and listen to our music or play on the computer while my dad drove. 

At the end of this scenic road trip, we ended up in Kirkland, Washington. At the time, in my head, we were in the middle of nowhere. We'd never ventured this far northwest before, and I didn't know anyone who lived there. But my dad did. At the time, we'd hear him talking on the phone at night on the weekends for an extended period of time. We didn't know who he was on the phone with, but we were old enough and keen enough to be able to make some inferences.

I remember my dad pulling onto this street and telling us we'd arrived. We were parked in front of a house I didn't recognize in an area where houses looked different than what we were used to seeing in Texas. We grabbed our suitcases and walked up to the front door. A woman opened the door and let us in. She took us downstairs to the basement where we'd be staying. Of course, the only thing we cared about was if there was wifi and how to log on. And she did that, too. Great.

The next morning, we got up and ate breakfast together. All four of us sat at the table and ate breakfast. We didn't do this at home when it was just the three of us. Each of us ran on our own schedule. My dad went to work. We went to school. And on weekends when we were home, we were all in our own little world. 

All four of us sat at the table and ate breakfast for two hours. I can't remember what we ate for breakfast that day, and I know I finished eating probably after about 30 minutes. And that was stretching out my eating. For the rest of the time, she and my dad talked. We maybe replied to a question occasionally, but most of the time, they talked to each other, and we sat there and watched and listened. I can't remember how breakfast finally ended, but my brother and I felt very very awkward. 

One night, we all went to Red Lobster for dinner. She and my dad sat next to each other in the booth and my brother and I sat next to each other across from them. We ate dinner, and once again, most of the conversation was had by the two of them while my brother and I sat quietly, ate, and listened. The rest of the dinner is fuzzy, but I remember thinking to myself: We look like a normal family of four, a father, a mother, a son, and a daughter, eating dinner together.....but we're not.

After dinner, she took us to a park with a path along the shoreline. We walked for a bit, and she pointed out that this was the dry side of Washington. If we crossed the lake to the other side, that was Seattle, the wetter side. 

We left Washington and continued the rest of our road trip back home. We drove through Colorado and stopped at Arches National Park. We went to see the cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde National Park. Both of these were great parks. I didn't near appreciate it as much then as I would now if I went back, but we also didn't explore either to their full extent.

After coming back home, my dad asked us at dinner one night what we thought of the woman in Washington. Neither of us said much. We didn't know what to say. Did we like her? What does it mean to like her? As a person? As the role she would fill? Did we even want that role filled? Time passed and the phone calls stopped. We never heard anything about her after that. We never went back to visit. To this day I can't remember what her name was. 

For the last 12 years, someone else has taken over that "spot." And throughout these years I've been learning more about myself, my grief, and the sore spots you shouldn't mess with ever. And sometimes, I remember all the way back to when we drove out on a random road trip to meet a random woman I didn't know. And however awkward it felt at the time, I now realize, that would have been fine. The awkwardness may have remained in a way, but everything would have worked together much better.  I didn't know it at the time, but I liked the other woman. I liked her poise, her personality, and who she was. I discussed this with a friend, and he phrased the exact revelation I came to in such an elegant way.

She was self-confident and mature, and she understood her potential role in your life. Yes. She did not pretend to be something she could not be.

I never wanted another mother much less a stepmother. I never wanted another grandmother for my children. I never wanted someone to waltz into my life and fill the hole. The hole is still there. It always will be. I wanted someone to be a companion to my dad and realize that she was nobody special to me unless I wanted her to be because those are separate roles. And I wanted her to realize even if I never wanted her to be anyone in my life, that was okay, and to let it be okay. 

I liked the other woman.