Lisa Djahed - Bee Stanis 01- The Foolish Stepmom Read Free

(Feet up, sipping wine: lordy-loo how I wished that was true.) And of course, she didn’t call me “Bee” like Yaz but the more formal, “Liz”. I still hated that. It was like a grate against a chalkboard. I so wanted an affectionate name in my own house, yes my name was “Elizabeth” Liz for short and yes I was “Step-mom” but at least “Bee” or “Bean” like Yaz sometimes calls me has a little special feeling. “Liz” just seems so adult, so formal, so step-mom-ish .
    “Jules, after we finish, can you check the washer and put the clothes in the dryer or your jeans won’t be done for morning.”
    “My name is JULIE and my jeans have to be done, those are the only jeans I can wear tomorrow.” As in, the world will collapse if she wears something other than her jeans on Mondays . It is so hard for me to remember back to teen-hood . I just remember the pain of it. I think girls spend a lot of time in emotional pain which is why they lash out so much. I guess teen boys too. I remember what my friend Carol told my niece who was ten at the time, she said “get ready for the worst years of your life, but don’t worry, they do end.” It was an awful and beautiful thing to say and my niece, now 20 remembers it to this day. And that is what I have to remind myself, Jules, I mean JULIE is going through the worst years of her life . If I repeat that like a mantra I won’t have to remember not to “Sweat the Small Stuff” (yeah right.) I still think it is full of hullaballoo. It is all about the small stuff.
    Ben called out for me again. I don’t think he had been in the house once since the situation next door developed. Leave it up to him to get in the thick of things.
    “Babes, come out here will you?” He asked, with a tone of concern in his voice.
    I walked out, lice comb and towel in hand and just as I saw them putting Jesse into the police car, Ben said, “ they are taking Jesse, honey, they are taking him in.”
    And that’ s when my Sunday night ended, alls I could see from that point forward was the anguish in Jesse’s face. Father dead, headed to the police station, no mom around, and he looked at me and was crying and I dropped what I was holding for want of holding that poor boy in my arms. Poor little muffin head.
     

Chapter Two
     
    I’m so glad my work is my respite. From my life. I’m lucky that way. Going from single girl to instant mom-hood and wife-ville was a pretty rough transition for me. I found that the hours between 9 and 3:30 when the girls got home, were my hours of peace. My list making haven. I’d go in, get coffee, figure out what jobs to design that day, figure out what lists I needed to make to keep the engine of our life oiled. Having to design posters for a living lightens things up. looking for an entire hour for the perfect smile out of thousands of stock photos of little children was a simple delight that I loved. My work brings me joy about 97% of the time and that is a true blessing.
    On today’s list though there was a job I wasn’t looking forward to. And that was a call from Jesse, from jail. He called last night and asked if we could allow him to call us collect from jail. Ben and I agreed, especially because no one had yet tracked down his mom, something about a Bahama cruise. Her ex-husband is dead, her son in jail and she’s off cruising the Caribbean with her boy toy. Lordy loo. These women. it is enough to drive you mad. Especially, if, like me, you are unable to have children. So those women who do and who can, with ease, and proliferate the world with spawn they don’t then take care, drives me nearly to drink. And sometimes nearly isn’t part of the equation. Hello chardonnay.
    They were supposed to be transferring Jesse to Stark’s- the maximum security facility about 40 minutes north. It was where he was held when the first arrested him over a year ago. Back then, Drew had asked that we go with him. He couldn’t drive he was too upset to be