Have you ever hated someone so much that you would willingly risk going to jail just to get even with them for something that they had done to you? Well, I have and I did and now I'm waiting to see how things turn out.
Yolanda was a bitch! A miserable fucking bitch and she made my life a living hell for over ten years. Yolanda was my stepmother and from the day my father brought her home until the day I moved out we did not get along at all. She hadn't been in the house a week and she took over the running of my life. She bought my clothes, she chose my friends and she interfered in everything I did. She made me take piano lessons, she made me take dance lessons and she hauled me to church every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday. Tuesday was bible study and Thursday was Youth Group. She gave me bible lessons and I had to have them letter perfect or I got sent to my room. She tossed out my video games, censored what I watched on television and even picked out the movies I was allowed to see. I was the only kid in the world who never saw Star Wars, but I had The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins shoved down my throat over and over.
It didn't get any better as I got older. She picked the classes I would take and she refused to sign the waivers I needed to be able to play sports. She did tell me that she would buy me whatever instrument I wanted if I joined the marching band. She made me join the Music Club, the Spanish Club and the Chess Club. She absolutely refused to let me get a part time job after school so I could save up money to buy a car.
"If you have a car you will just want to go out and run around in it instead of staying home and studying. Plenty of time for that foolishness when you are grown up and on your own."
Where was my father when all this stuff was going on? The pussy-whipped bastard sat in his easy chair and said, "Yes dear" and "You are absolutely right dear" and "Whatever you say dear." To me he said, "She's only doing what's best for you" or "She has your best interests at heart" and "She means well, you just need to meet her halfway." The one that made me gag and want to toss my cookies was "Some day you will thank her."
The day it all came to a head when she sat me down at the kitchen table and started laying out information about the college I was going to attend, what my major would be and what minors I was going to take along with it. I took my hand and swept all the papers off the table and onto the floor and said: "I'm not going to college. The only thing I'm going to do is get the fuck out of this house the day I turn eighteen."
"Don't you use those words and take that tone of voice with me young man."
"Oh yeah? What the fuck are you going to do about it? You going to toss me out of the house? Well please fucking do! The sooner I get out of this fucking place the happier I will be. What do you fucking think about that?"
Yolanda reached across the table and slapped my face. "You go to your room right now and we will see what your father has to say when he gets home."
I was going to say, "Fuck you" and leave the house, but then I decided that it was time that I had it out with my father. I was going to be eighteen in two weeks and graduation was one week after that and then I was going to be gone from the house and away from Yolanda so I didn't give a shit if I got tossed out or not.
I heard my dad come trudging up the stairs a little after six and he knocked on the door to my room. I hollered that it was unlocked and to come on in. He came through the door with his "Stern look" on his face.
"What's this that your mother is telling me about your behavior this afternoon?"
"In the first place, she is not my mother. What she is and has been for the past ten years is my jailer. Years when instead of being my father you were her lap dog. You completely turned your back on any part of raising me and instead you turned me over to that female Hitler. Today, when she sat me down and told me -told me mind you - what college I was going to go to and what my major was going to be I'd had enough. The only reason I came up here and sat in this room waiting for you was so I could tell you what a miserable excuse for a father you have been. I've already talked to the Army recruiter and when I turn eighteen I'm out of here and I don't care if I ever see you or that bitch again."
Then I got up and left the house. We avoided each other for the next three weeks and the day after my graduation I was on a bus headed for basic training.
It was three years, seven months and fourteen days before I came back. Using the money I had saved in the Army's education program I enrolled at the local university, found an apartment and a part time job at a convince store. I was sitting behind the counter one night eating a bagel and studying when the dinger went off and I looked outside and saw Yolanda get out of a Grand Cherokee. Pay at the pump bitch, pay at the pump I prayed, but the gods were against me that day. I energized the pump and watched as she filled her tank. I was alone and couldn't get someone else to watch the counter while I hid in the back room so I was stuck with having to deal with the cunt.
My back to her when she came to the counter and when I turned and she saw who it was she showed me that she was still the Yolanda that I loved to hate. As she handed me her credit card she said, "My, my, we certainly have come up in the world, haven't we?"
I swiped her card and didn't say a word. I handed her back her card and the charge slip to sign and when she pushed it back at me she said:
"You should really call your father. He misses you."
"Don't be that way, after all he is your father."
"No he isn't. He stopped being my father when he turned me over to you and then sat on his butt while you fucked over my life."
She gave me a long hard look and then she turned and left.
For the next two months every time the door would open I would look half expecting to see my father walking in, but either Yolanda never told him or he didn't miss me near as bad as she had said. Then one day the door opened and I looked up from the Managerial Economics text I was studying and saw Yolanda.
"Your father had a heart attack. He is in the Intensive Care Unit at St. Anthony's. He wants to see you" and she turned and walked away.
I cut classes that day and went to the hospital. He was on the bed with oxygen hoses to his nose and tubes and needles stuck in him everywhere. I stood next to the bed looking down at him and he must have sensed me standing there because he weakly turned his head my way, opened his eyes and stared at me. Then he reached out a hand and I took it and he said something, but his voice was so weak I couldn't hear him so I leaned down and put my ear to his mouth and he said, "I'm sorry," squeezed my hand and then he was gone.
The funeral was a dreary affair as most always are and afterwards, as was the family custom, every one went to dad's house for the wake. I was socializing with relatives I hadn't seen or talked to in ages. I was talking to my cousin Tom and he saw Yolanda across the room and said, "I wonder how long it will be before some lucky bastard snaps up Yolanda?"
"Why do you say that?"
"Shit cuz, I know you don't like her, but that shouldn't make you blind. That is one sexy looking lady."
Tommy was right, Yolanda was a fox and I suppose that is what hooked my dad and kept him hooked. Then Tom said, "I'd bang her myself if I could."
"What's stopping you?"
"The twenty year age difference. But if I was older and could get her to just have something as simple as lunch with me I would nail her."
"How can you be so sure?"
"DRD my man, date rape drugs. Just a touch of GHB, Special K or Roofies and she'd be mine." Then he laughed, "Hell, she'd be anybody's."
"And you have access to that kind of stuff?"
"Hell man, I never leave home with out it."
"Tell me more Tom, I want to hear all about it."
That night as I was leaving Yolanda stopped me and told me that I needed to come over in the next day or so to go over dad's affairs.
"Why? There is nothing there that I want."
"You might not want it, but it is yours anyway."
"What do you mean?"
"The house and everything in it belongs to you."
"Nonsense. The house goes to the wife."
"No it doesn't, at least not in this case. The house was paid for before your mother died. She paid it off using the money from your grandfather's insurance. The house was in her name and in her will she left it to you. Also there are some insurance policies and an annuity that go to you so you need to come by so we can sort things out."
The next day I stopped by the house to see what Yolanda was talking about. I had stopped at the Wine Rack, a local liquor store, and picked up a bottle of Yolanda's favorite white wine and I poured us each a glass and then we went into dad's study and started going through his papers. About twenty minutes into it Yolanda set her wineglass down and shook her head as if to clear it. "Something wrong?" I asked.
"I all of a sudden feel dizzy and light headed."
I looked at my watch and then I smiled at her, "You'll feel better in about three or four hours, in fact, you will probably feel great by then."
Her words were just a little slurred when she said, "What did you do?"