Tuesday, March 27, 2007
I love him but He loves my mother
That is the title of my post and I am sticking to it.
I know he loves my mother because he is my step-father. I have been a fan of this blog since it started and thought that if I sent you an email about my story you would post it on your blog. I don't want you to think that I am just writing to get known, I am writing to see if people can help me. I think I am sick, I think I am disgusting.
I was born to my mother when she was 16. She was married to a man who was almost two times her age. She was married young and came to America a child bride. She of course didn't know better growing up in the village of Moba, in Ondo State (What is now Ekiti State). She didn't speak English but followed her new husband to America pregnant with me. While in the U.S. my father earned his degrees, and my mother stayed at home and took care of me and my brother and twin sisters. We were a happy family until my hardworking father was diagnosed with Cancer. He died two years later after a serious battle. We were too young to remember much. I was ten but I can only remember snapshots of my father now. He was old and always held me when I cried. I most remember his smell. I remember my mother didn't cry when he died. I secretly think she was relieved. After all my father was much older and she was a child who must have been in love with someone else. Of course this is my adult assessment.
I love being a Nigerian, because the community where we lived rallied around my mother and came to our aid. My siblings and I were split with various families and my mother was allowed to go to night school. By the time I was in high school, my siblings and I and my mother finally moved into our own home and she was working as a nurse.
My mother I love so much. She educated herself and worked nights as made so that I could have a better future.
Now I am a woman of my own. And the only unmarried person in my family. Eight years ago my mother finally remarried a man we will call Edward Brown. He is not Nigerian much to everyone in our communities' dismay but he is a very prominent man in his own way. He is a city council man and he is very good looking. I remember coming home from college and seeing my mother sitting on his lap. I remember being introduced to him and being mesmerized by his eyes. I remember getting flushed and being unable to speak. I remember walking around during vacations at home with shot shorts so he could notice I have a fine ass. I remember lingering a few minutes longer in his embrace because he smells so Good.
I remember being heart broken when he married my mother.
My mother probably wonders at the change in our relationship as we are not as close as we used to be in the days when life was hard and rough. She probably sits and thinks, why doesn't my daughter want to talk to me? In the last eight years, my mother married the man I wanted, my baby sisters have both gotten married and my brother has found a woman he loves as well who just happens to be from my mother's village much to her joy. But I am still single. I am graduating from Medical School next year and well let's just say I am not to happy to be walking around an almost 30 year old virgin getting stimulated by the sight of her step-father.
I know he knows I like him.
Why you might ask?
Because we kissed.
Not a chaste kiss on the lips but a deep tongue, depth defying kiss. We kissed the night before I left for Medical School. He was sitting on the sofa reading a book as he usually does in the evenings when mother is working. I came downstairs for something to drink because I was tired from packing and thirsty and needed a drink. He had been avoiding me for some reasons and I could tell because he always seemed to find himself leaving a room if I entered and we were alone or entering a room with others if I was there. Never wanted to be alone with me like I would jump him which irritated the hell out of me. And he if he could help it he would avoid holding or touching me. He never spoke directly to me and barely looked at me when he spoke but at the space between or above my head.
I came downstairs on that day and saw him in the living area reading a book with a cup of wine. I noticed that it was red wine and went to the fridge. Pulling out the cooling bottle, I brought over my glass of water and topped off his glass. He glanced up and smiled politely telling me thank you. But he said it looking directly at me. I didn't know what to do. I mean for the first time in a while our eyes met. And he didn't look away neither did I. I leaned down closer and planted my lips slowly on his. His eyes closed and next thing you know I was straddling him and we were making out. I felt elated. Finally i was getting my man, then he shoved me off of him so suddenly I splashed wine everywhere. Edward got up hastily and by the bulge in his pants I could tell he liked what we had been doing. He stormed away and didn't even glance back.
I stumbled to my room and slammed the door crying.
That was about five years ago. We haven't really spoken and our relationship has been strained by that. I don't know what to do. My mother must know there is something amiss because she asked me if i hated Edward and when i said "no" she raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
Help! I am in love with my stepfather...
I will wait to hear what the readers think!
Posted by Passion ::
5:07 PM ::
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