Step on Me Pt. 01

Despite my size advantage, I embarrassingly averted my eyes, as Nam was barely dressed. Draped over her shoulders was a black, see-through, silk netted robe, that revealed a red bikini beneath, on the brink of bursting under the pressure of her large, round breasts. Her physique was ridiculously toned and well-shaped, with not a roll of fat or stretchmark in sight. Clearly, I must have caught her while she was out the back, no doubt enjoying daddy's pool and catching some sun. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of designer sunglasses and her sheen-like black hair was tied off in two pigtails, giving her the look of a schoolgirl, rather than my supposed step-mother. I looked around everywhere for some reprieve, something to focus on other than Nam's flawless body; the very body that had no doubt captured my father in the first place. I settled on looking downwards at the welcome mat, which my parents had picked out together. However, all I achieved was seeing Nam's tiny feet, her neon green painted toes poking out of a pair of house slippers.

"Sà-wàt-dee ka," I said while still looking downwards, regaling the phrase that I'd been practising on the bus trip over. I'd figured it made sense to be polite myself, since I was going to be asking her for help, and I wanted to show an effort in regards to her language. After a few moments of silence, I glanced up in curiosity.

Nam wasn't smiling as I expected, and she certainly wasn't impressed with my efforts in speaking Thai. Instead, she bit her lip, then let out a deep sigh. "Ka," she finally said in response.

"How are you?" I asked, realising straight away that it was a strange question to ask, particularly with all of our history and recent events. I shuffled on the spot, feeling awkward and uncomfortable, not knowing where to look while she was stood there with all of her enticing assets on full display.

Nam ignored my question, and instead she reached to the side of the door. Seconds later, she held an envelope out to me, clutched in her dainty fingers, painted the same neon green as her toes. On her one finger was a prominent wedding ring, not like the gold band my mother had worn with pride, but instead displaying a outrageously large diamond. It appeared my father had gone all out on Nam in a way he never had with my mother.

I took the envelope, and upon opening it, I realised it contained the shredded sympathy card that my mother had petulantly returned to her. I snapped my eyes back up to Nam's, unable to see them from beyond the dark shades of her sunglasses, and unsure of whether she was annoyed or not. She nodded at the pieces of card, then frowned. "Kob khun ka," she said, before adding, "Thank you for your kindness."

The sarcasm was clear, and I wasn't sure how to proceed. Instead, in a panic, I moved things along faster than I had planned. "May I come in, please?" I asked, which felt absurd while standing in front of the house I grew up in.

Nam crossed her arms and leant against the doorframe. She looked me up and down, before huffing and turning on her heel. "Ka," she said, "But remove your shoes first. No shoes in my home." She pointed at the floor, before marching down the hallway with the trails of silk robe flapping in the air.

I balked at hearing her so nonchalantly refer to my childhood home as hers, but I slipped off my sneakers, then joined her in the living room, to see that she'd taken a seat in my daddy's favourite armchair. She was seated upright, with her slippered feet side by side and her hands outstretched and gripping the rounded armrests. She had the talent of appearing both relaxed and regal at the same time, despite the contrast of her sitting in a vintage chair while wearing a revealing bikini.

"Nam," I said, once again unable to keep my eyes on her intimidating body and instead looking around the familiar living room. "There's something we need to discuss. Obviously, things got heated during the will reading, and I apologise for my mother being so upset. It's just my daddy has left us with nothing. It's put me in a difficult position and I have college fees to pay. I was wondering if--"

"I'd give you the money?" she asked while lifting her sunglasses and balancing them atop her head, nestled within the shining strands of her black hair. "Why would I do that?" she asked, a lack of emotion on her face. Her narrow, Asian eyes had a way of seeming both piercing and judgemental at the same time, despite the beauty with which they were made up. Her cheeks shimmered with the glittery freckles. "You're not my daughter. You've made that clear to me." She gestured towards the torn card, which I still held in my grasp. "I don't owe you anything with the way you've treated me."

I was taken aback by the eloquence in her voice and her command of English. I'd expected a cartoon-like attempt at broken English like I'd seen in all of the videos of bar girls lining the streets of Pattaya. At the will reading, she'd only spoken Thai, and her accent had somewhat skewed my perception. The few sentences she'd said at the door had been short and quiet. "Umm," I stuttered, feeling the conviction of my words fading. I wasn't sure how to proceed, since I'd figured I was going to be intellectually her superior, with my education and all. I'd assumed I'd spend most of the time navigating the language barrier while building a rapport with her, eventually leading to her realising that we were just two girls around the same age and her sympathetically offering to help me out with what I was obviously entitled to anyway. That plan had gone up in the wind with the realisation that Nam was both fluent and adept at English. I suddenly felt a greater level of intimidation, as clearly, she was more than her appearance.

Nam's eyes narrowed and she seemed to seize on my hesitancy. "What's wrong? Have you just realised all of the bile your mother has thrown my way was a lie? I'm not some stupid Thai farm girl, huh?"

"I, umm, I don't know--"

"I went to a British international school in Chiang Mai," she added. "My parents sold their rice land so I could attend and better myself. I was on the way to becoming a psychologist when I met your father and he convinced me to quit university and join him over here." She scowled at me. "He fell in love with me because of my brain, not just my looks."

I gulped, then I steadied myself and focused on the reason I was here in the first place. "I just want what I deserve because it's the right thing to do," I said. "That's my father's money and he's been helping me with my college tuition. He promised me he would help until I graduated."

Nam shrugged and seemed totally disinterested in what I was saying. "Your father isn't here anymore and he left all of his money to me. That was his choice. If you'd actually accepted me as your step-mother when I reached out to you, then perhaps I'd be willing to help. You said some terrible things about me on your Facebook too; Robert showed me everything."

"I, ugh, ummm, I'm sorry," I said, not knowing exactly what she was talking about, but I'd said some pretty awful things about her over the past couple of months, mostly at the direction and encouragement of my mother.

"Gold-digging go-go dancer, that's what I am to you, right?" She snarled, her tone vicious and devastatingly sharp. "What else was it? Speculating whether your father had come out of the closet because he'd married a ladyboy?" She turned to the side in the seat, her knees held together, offering a view of her svelte body, before cupping her breasts in her hands. "Do I look like a ladyboy to you?"

I had to swallow my embarrassment while she flaunted her perfect figure before me. While she fondled her large breasts, which were almost bursting through the tight, lacy bikini that held them in place, I became painfully aware of my own barely-visible chest. I was wearing a loose t-shirt and could have easily been mistaken for a boy, such was the absence of any mounds in my breast area. I'd never been bothered by my tomboy appearance, as I'd always been fully invested in my studies. Attracting boys was something I'd focus on later, once I'd achieved my career goals. But simply being in Nam's presence made me feel like I was a phoney, as if I was pretending at being a woman. I looked away from her in shame, glancing towards the floor, and muttered, "No, you don't."

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?"

I couldn't bear to look up and meet her eye, such was my embarrassment at the things I had said. I realised that both me and my mother had gone all guns blazing on Nam, slandering her to anyone who would listen and insulting her all over the internet. This was despite having never actually met her. Of course, she deserved it to a degree, since she'd shacked up with a married man. But, amongst it all, we'd let my father completely off the hook. Sure, we'd barely spoken to him since, but all of our vitriol and hate had been directed towards the young Thai girl who had, in our eyes, stolen him from us. I blushed in shame. "I'm sorry, I was angry. I apologise."

I waited to hear what she was about to say, but there was silence. After a few moments, I looked up in apprehension. Nam appeared somewhat shocked, as if she was surprised I was actually apologising to her after everything she had done to us. Her lips quivered as if she was about to say something, but then she licked her lips, rose to her feet and defiantly got right up in my face as I hunched in embarassment. "Does that excuse it? I've never been a go-go dancer in my life. I met your father at my university after he had given a guest lecture on his work with medications in mental illness. I came to your country for a better life and I have enjoyed one, except for having such a terrible step-daughter and his rotten ex-wife."

"It's just difficult," I said while shrinking beneath her hot breath. "You're hardly older than me and just the way you broke up my parent's marriage."

"Your father wasn't in love with your mother anymore. Should he have stayed in an unhappy marriage? Did you not love your father and wish to see him happy?"

"Of course, I loved my father!" I said in exasperation.

"Then why are you so upset about him being happy with me? Even now he's gone, you're still making a big deal out of it."

I couldn't believe the brass neck of this homewrecker. Here she was, sat in my father's house, which should have been mine, and lecturing me about being upset at her breaking up my parent's marriage. I wanted to throttle her, or at the very least berate and educate her on what a good-for-nothing harpy she was. However, I was here to ask for her help with the clock ticking painfully close on my college fee deadline. I was hardly going to receive her help by insulting or strangling her, was I? "Nam, please--"

"You can start by addressing me correctly," she said, which left my attempt at mediation caught in my mouth. There was a growing confidence and assuredness in her tone, the kind that only someone in control has. She'd picked up on the desperation of my situation, and I knew I had completely lost the initiative. "I'm not Nam to you. That is my name that equals refer to me as. But we're not equals, are we? I'm your step-mother, by law, whether you like it or not, and you should start by giving me the respect I deserve as your parent."

"You're not my parent," I said in defiance. I was taken aback by the drivel spewing from her lips. The self-righteousness was off the charts, as if she was completely oblivious to her role in all of this. The uppity girl needed a reality check. "I already have a mom and you're like, what, two years older than me or whatever?"

Nam shrugged. "You're right, I'm only twenty-four."

I nodded. "Exactly, so you're not really my step-mother, whatever the law says."

"Fine. Agreed. So, then why are you here bothering me? Go ask your mom for help. She's your parent after all, right? Not me." She dropped her hands to her hips, nestled just about the strings of her bikini bottoms.

"I already did, she has no--"

"Money, right? Your mother has no money. So, you're here to ask me for it. But, as if you've just said, I'm not your parent, why should I help you? I don't owe you anything."

"It's not like that." I paused but her expression remained neutral. I screwed up my eyebrows in the midst of some mental gymnastics, trying to find a way out of the logic she was throwing in my face. However, I was at a loss, and I sighed while asking, "What do I need to do?"

"Address me properly while asking your question," she said while sinking back into the armchair and stretching her slippered feet out in a display of relaxation. "Address me as a daughter should respectfully talk to her step-mother." She fluttered those pronounced eyelashes my way. "Then I'll consider your request. You've been rude to me since day one, and I accepted it and kept trying to reach out. Now your father is gone, I don't owe you anything and I'm not trying anymore. It's your turn to try."

"Ummm, please would you help me with my college tuition"--I stuttered as I neared finishing the sentence-- "step-mother?" I cringed at addressing her in that way, and I felt as if I had just betrayed my own mother. I was doing exactly what she had promised me not to do; sacrificing my pride in an attempt to appease the very woman who had torn my family apart. However, this wasn't going the way I had planned. I thought I was going to step all over Nam with my reasoning and logic, but as I was gradually losing control of the narrative, I realised I really had no hands to play.

Nam pursed her lips and cocked her head. "That doesn't really work, does it? Try again."

"Umm..I'm not sure--"

"What do you call your mother?"

"Mom," I said with a shrug, before adding, "I'm not calling you mom."

Nam tapped a finger to her lips. "And I've already learned that you call Robert your daddy, which seems childish and disrespectful to me, but then, you are a child, aren't you?"

I shook my head in disbelief at the insult. "I'm only two years younger than you. I'm studying to be a dentist in college. I'm hardly a child, am I?"

"Well, you certainly like acting like one. If a Thai mother ever messaged their step-daughter with the politeness I messaged you, they'd receive a respectful response, regardless of any other circumstances."

"I'm sorry about that," I reassured her once again. "I was obviously upset with everything that was happening. I'm not Thai, we do things different over here."

Nam nodded. "Yes, you do, very different. You don't appreciate or respect your parents. I saw the stuff you said to your father. Anyway, since you call your father daddy, then I guess you can call me mommy. Makes sense since he was my husband, correct?"

"I'm not calling you mommy," I said, completely flabbergasted and almost spluttering out an exasperated laugh. Even the thought of doing such an absurd thing made my cheeks glow in shame. "That's just...no...I'm not doing that."

Nam shrugged. "Then I guess you'll be seeing yourself out." She rose to her feet from the armchair. "You know where the door is."

"Really?" I asked in a panic. "You want me to call you mommy, for real? Then I'll get my college tuition?"

Nam shrugged with an obnoxious chewing of her lips. "It'll be a good start."

"Okay, mommy," I said in desperation, immediately feeling my face flush over red in a humiliated cringe. Simply hearing the word out loud in my own voice was enough to shatter any feeling of self-respect that I'd come there with. "If that's what it takes."

"Better," she said, a smile finally appearing on her youthful face. "But, you should always wai me as a sign of respect, just as we do in Thailand." She then placed the palms of her hands together and touched her fingertips to her chin, the same way she had done during the will reading.

It was polite, and almost cute, however, it rubbed me up the wrong way, probably due to me still boiling over in humiliation from having to call her mommy. I grit my teeth and mumbled under my breath, "We're not in fucking Thailand though."

Nam raised an eyebrow and her hands dropped from her chin. "What was that?"

"Nothing," I said, before copying the same gesture with my hands and bowing my head slightly, just as Nam had done. "Sà-wàt-dee ka, mommy," I said, abandoning what was left of my pride while scrambling to undo the damage my temper had just inflicted on my chances of appeasing my apparent step-mother.

"Mai chai," she shook her head with a displeased grimace and looked up at me from her modest height. Despite the difference in our stature, she stood the picture of confidence and statuesque form. Meanwhile, I hunkered in shame. "I am your parent now, by law, the laws of your country, and I'm your elder, and I will not tolerate such language in my own home."

The mentioning of my childhood home now being hers cut through me, and I was on the verge of bursting into tears while Nam was berating me and abusing the hold my daddy's finances had given her over me. There was no one else on Earth that I'd allow to tell me off in such a way, especially seconds after having demanded I, a grown woman, call her something as ridiculous as mommy. However, this was the only person who could help me right at this moment, and for that reason, I knew I was in a dire situation.

While I hesitated, trying with every fibre of my being to avoid breaking down in front of her and showing my weakness, Nam took a seat on the chaise lounge near the fireplace. She sat with her back straight, and with knees touching, she patted her thigh as if she was beckoning a dog.

"Come," she said. "I can't believe you would use language like that around me, especially when you're here asking for my help."

"I'm sorry," I said, unable to look at her. "I was angry."

"I should be asking you to leave right now. Your college tuition is really not my problem."

"No, please," I said while grasping my hands together at my chest, this time in a praying position. "I need that money. Please, I'll do anything. I'll call you mommy and have a step-daughter relationship with you, whatever you want." I could think of nothing worse than having to refer to Nam as my mommy on a regular basis while maintaining the charade of a happy step-child, all through the absurdity of our closeness in age. However, if that's what it took to graduate, then I'd have to grit my teeth and get through it. I could tell her what I really thought of her once college was over, but for the time being, I needed daddy's money, and therefore, I needed her.

I thought back to my own mother, pleading with me to keep my pride and not come to Nam with a begging cap. Yet, here I was, ultimately regretting I hadn't listened to her, as it seemed Nam had every intention of taking advantage of my desperation. I'd pretty much shown up at her door and handed her the initiative and opportunity to take revenge for all of the internet abuse we'd directed her way. With my desperate pleading for her help, I'd pretty much absolved her of any responsibility or consequences for her actions in destroying my parent's marriage. Now, she was openly humiliating me, as if I were an unruly child, and I was being forced to go along with it.

A self-satisfied smirk crept onto her lips, then she rolled her eyes. "It would appear your American upbringing has left you a feral child. This is something we simply do not tolerate in Thailand. Children should respect their elders, and they should certainly respect their parental figures."

I wanted to curse her for going on about Thailand again, especially as a way to chastise me. However, I looked at Nam in confusion while she eyed me expectantly. "What do you want me to do?" I asked in defeat, before she sent a shudder through my body when she unexpectantly slapped her thigh again.