Oneshot: Hating Dear Old Mom
"Love Mom!"
Mark cringed as he heard the last word of the voicemail. He quickly pressed the erase button and tried to block out the frightful woman's voice from her head. To be quite honest he despised her. She didn't deserve the title of Mom, and he detested her and his step sister Cindy.
It wasn't that they were bad people, no not at all, it was just that… his father married a woman only a year older then Mark himself was! How was he supposed to handle that? He left for a year at college, and when he came back he found his house taken over by a woman that claimed to be his Mother. His real mother died at birth, what did he need this crazy woman for? He and his father had gotten along just fine thank you for 18 years. Why did she have to come? Even better, why did her adopted-daughter have to take over his room?
There's a greeting, huh?
"Son, I'd like you to meet someone: This is your new mother, her name is Cheryl"
"You can just call me mom dear!" Mark had stared at the woman. She didn't look over 19, and her "daughter" definitely wasn't hers. Mark soon learned that Cindy was adopted when her parents died. Though why a 19 year old had adopted a 7 year old was beyond him, but it explained why she choose to marry a 40-something man who wasn't even the same religion!
Mark hated her instantly. Especially at night.
Every night Mark would sit up late in "his room", the tiny closet sized guest room, working on his personal projects, filling out applications for scholarships and such, and that, that woman would come in. She would flounce in wearing her nightgown, or whatever scanty garment she had chosen that night and she'd sit on the bed. Her over powering perfume would invade the room, and she would ask what he was doing. At first he explained whatever he was working on, but then he started ignoring her. She would stay for an hour or two before leaving and going back to the bed room she shared with his father.
It was an uncomfortable time for Mark, but he endured it until one night, right before Christmas when his father went out of town on a business trip.
She came in his room, but on that night instead of sitting on the bed and questioning endlessly, she just went straight to him and pushed him against the wall, kissing him. Instinctively he responded, until he realized his was his step-mom. He pushed her away, "Get out." It was almost more of a growl than spoken words. The woman just wouldn't leave though!
She kept advancing on him, she had him cornered in the room, and had herself pressed against his body. He was trapped between the wall and the dresser with her blocking the exit. She started to kiss him again, and though he tried to push her away, to not respond, she was stronger then looked.
The kiss she forced upon him was broken violently when she was dragged away, and Marks angry father stood there, staring at his son. "Dad, it wasn't—" But his father cut him off. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" The man roared.
Mark didn't wait for a second invitation, he started grabbing his belongings and stuffing them in his duffel bag. Rushing out of the room, past the woman who ruined his relationship with his father, Mark walked down the steps. His father right on his heels making sure he didn't stop. It was until Mark was on the porch that he turned to face his father. "It wasn't me." His father stared at him, a look of detestation in his eyes, along side disappointment and hurt. Then a funny look came into his eyes, and his father grabbed his arm. The name he croaked wasn't his son's but his wife's: "Cheryl."
Mark turned and walked down the sidewalk, ignoring the calls of Cheryl for help. His father was having a heart attack, but Mark didn't stop. Mark kept walking.
He never did figure out why even after all these years the woman called. But once a week she did. Maybe it was her way of trying to erase the guilt or ruining a good relationship? Mark didn't know or care; he never answered the phone. Maybe he would if his father called, but not that… that woman.