Chapter 1 of "Sherry Darling."
I was a college freshman, just finishing my first year at the University of Illinois, and I had to say, that college was a far cry from high school! What a freakin’ wake-up call it had been for me.
I mean, shit, I knew it would be tougher, I’d heard all the stories from friends and family, but I was carrying a full load, working a part-time job to help with tuition, and playing on the women’s soccer team. It seemed as if I had absolutely no time to call my own these days.
I was so fucking glad spring break was finally here. While others at school were heading to the sexy, pristine beaches of southern Florida, or traveling to South Padre Island in Texas, I was simply going home to Carbondale to rest. And by that, I meant sleep, eat and then sleep again.
The best part was that I knew my mother and stepfather would allow me to do just that. They were awesome people.
I was an only child; my father had died when I was just eight years old, due to complications from an injury he received during the invasion of Iraq. He was part of the first wave on the ground back in 2003.
After he passed, one of the men in his platoon, James Sullivan, had taken a special interest in seeing that my mother and I were well taken care of.
I later found out that my father’s life-ending injury was the result of him staying behind during an air lift to make sure several missing platoon members were found and rescued. James had been one of those soldiers. My father had taken a round in the back, one of which had punctured his spinal cord. He had returned as a paraplegic and died of complications several months later.
James stayed around a lot, helping my Mama deal with the loss of my father and her husband, the man that had saved his life. I had never held it against James that my father had died saving him.
To be honest, after a while, James started to be a father figure to me. It wasn’t as if he tried to replace my father in that capacity, because in no way did he do that. It just seemed natural that’s all. I mean I could still remember my dad, and I had loved him dearly, but James in his own comforting way had started to fill the void that my father’s death had left.
When I was ten, my mother sat me down one afternoon and explained that she and James were getting married. She had wanted to make sure that I was okay with it, telling me that she would always love my father, but she had grown to love James over the past couple of years. I think she had wanted my approval.
I told her that I was fine with it, because I truly was. Even at the age of ten, I could see how happy James had made my mother, and he had always been kind and caring to me as well.
Later that same day, James had sat down with me wanting to have a one-on-one just to make sure that I really was okay with it.
“I’m not trying to replace your father,” he had told me, “Because no one could ever do that. Your father was a fine man, and I owe my life to him, Cupcake. I promise that I will always look after you and your Mama to the best of my ability. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
He had been so serious, looking at me intently with his beautiful blue eyes, wanting to make sure that I truly did understand. I had nodded, “Yes, James, I understand and I’m glad that we’re all going to be a family now. I think Daddy would be glad to know that you’re taking care of us.”
He had hugged me, and given me a kiss on my forehead. “Thanks for that, honey. I love your Mama, and I love you, too. We are all a family now, and I will make sure that we stay a family, too.”
And I believed him because James showed us that he cared about us in all sorts of ways both before and after they had gotten married. He helped me with my homework - especially with Math because that was my least favorite subject. I’d always struggled with it, but James made it interesting for me. He gave me practice problems and then timed me on getting them done. If I finished before the timer went off, he gave me a big strong bear hug.
Things hadn’t changed all that much once they were married. James had spent a lot of nights with us before that, and now it was just a matter of him moving his stuff in, Mama making room in her closets for his clothes, and making room in our two-car garage for his truck. I was happy that he would be a permanent part of our lives. I’d missed having a father figure. James filled that void.
James was a general contractor by this time, and had a crew of others working for him. I could tell that money wasn’t much of a problem for us, being that Mama worked full-time as a paralegal in a law firm.
I hadn’t realized until I was well into my teens that James was ten years younger than my Mama. He had enlisted in the Army straight out of high school, and was only nineteen when he was sent to Iraq under my father’s leadership.
I thought back to my girlfriends in high school and how they would make comments to me about my stepfather, asking whether he ever paraded around the house in his undies, or if I ever heard him and my mother having sex in their bedroom. I had hated their constant questions and badgering about my stepfather.
“Eww, gross,” I had commented, and then assured them that James didn’t parade around in his boxers, and that I was fairly certain they didn’t have sex.
I had lied, because of course they wouldn’t have let it go if I’d told them that I had on occasion, heard strange noises, mostly my mother’s high-pitched moans, and the sound of their bed squeaking and banging against the wall of their bedroom. Sometimes I even strained to hear more. I remember hearing James’ deep voice at times, saying soothing things to my mother. Something about how good it felt to be inside of her. I remember that it had made me feel fluttering in my belly, and a few times, I’d even felt my crotch area getting tingly and warm.
“Do you call him Dad?” My friend Michelle had asked me. She seemed to be the nosiest one of all. I think it was because Michelle had a stepfather that wasn’t nearly as nice or as handsome as mine. She was jealous. I was sure of it.
“I call him James,” I replied flatly. “My mother said it wouldn’t show proper respect for my real father if I called James anything other than his name.”
“Well, you don’t need to get so pissy about it,” she had replied, “I was just asking. I mean shit, I wish my stepfather looked like James. He’s totally hot in case you haven’t noticed. My stepdad is an ugly motherfucker who wishes I wasn’t around.”
The truth was that I had noticed. Who couldn’t help but notice? I stayed quiet because any affirmation I gave would only spur her on to continue on the topic of my stepfather, and I didn’t want that.
James was hot, and it wasn’t as if I hadn’t fantasized about having a boyfriend just like him some day. But shit, I wasn’t supposed to think things like that, or even stare at him like I did at times! Usually it was when he was working on his truck, or outside with his shirt off doing yard work. He had well-muscled arms, and several tats that rocked and rippled when he worked on stuff.
My thoughts of him were interrupted when my dorm roommate Cindy came bustling in, tossing an armload of books on her bunk. She rubbed her hands together to warm them.
“Fuck I didn’t think this day would ever end,” she said, pulling her backpack out of the closet. “I’m so ready to get out of this cold, nasty weather, aren’t you?”
“Hello?” I said to my totally blonde roommate, “I’m going three hours north, remember?”
“Aww shit, that’s right. Didn’t mean to rub it in, girlfriend. Wish you were coming with us.”
“Yeah, I know, but going to Fort Lauderdale isn’t in my budget this year.”
Cindy sighed, as she pulled her sweatshirt up and over her head, and then rooted through her closet for a U of I t-shirt. “What’s with your parents not helping you with tuition?” she asked, “Unless it’s none of my business.”
The truth was, it wasn’t any of her business, but we were friends enough that I didn’t mind explaining the situation to her. I knew that Cindy would understand once I filled her in on the particulars of my mother’s dilemma.
“Well, Mama has been trying to get pregnant for a couple of years. She’s forty now, and I guess they’re spending all their spare cash on some type of fertility shots.”
“Oh yeah?” Cindy asked, pulling her new boots on. “Why’d she wait so long?”
I shrugged. “I guess she and my stepfather wanted to make sure they were in a financially comfortable position first. He’s had his business up and running for just a couple of years, and they’ve been trying for a couple of years. It just isn’t happening for them.”
“Well, I’m sorry that it’s affecting you anyway,” she said, looking around the room for more clothes. “But try to have a great spring break anyway.”
“You do the same,” I replied. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Shit,” she replied with a laugh, “That would totally be a snoozer trip for sure, girlfriend.”
“Ha ha,” I replied dryly, rolling my eyes.
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