The Mother Tracie Deserves Ch. 03

DARK WINTER

The long, cold months after that autumn award ceremony really tested me - and I failed the tests.

In the two years since the divorce, I had held a series of low-level jobs to try and make ends meet, and my latest job was going down the drain. But instead of working harder to get out of my slump, I just drank - vodka, mostly - to escape the bad feelings.

And as the holidays came along, I had plenty more bad feelings to drink about. I had agreed with my ex-husband that Tracie would spend that Thanksgiving with him, in return for her spending Christmas with me.

So, what did I do for Thanksgiving on my own? I spent it completely alone, drinking myself into a self-pitying stupor. Such days were becoming a habit for me.

Things didn't get any better in December. Even though I would have my stepdaughter with me, my Christmas spirit was at zero. It was the first holiday season since I got married that I failed to put up a tree. I didn't even put up a single decoration. I just drank.

As the day approached, Tracie told me it was "too depressing around here" and she was going to spend Christmas too with her dad.

Of course it hurt, but I couldn't blame her. Apparently, my ex's new girlfriend was going all-out at his house, with floor-to-ceiling decor and plans for an expensive gourmet party. I couldn't compete.

I had failed Halloween, Thanksgiving, and now Christmas. All just more reasons to drink. I was too dull-witted by then to come up with a thoughtful gift for my daughter. I just asked her what she wanted.

"I want you to feel better, Mom."

You'd think I would have been touched. But what was my reaction? "Great," I said angrily. "Now my own daughter pities me."

Tracie rolled her eyes and walked away. We talked to each other even less after that.

To my employer's credit, they didn't fire me before the holidays, though I had become useless to them. But on the last business day of the year, my boss let me know he "thought it best" that I not return in the new year. No one was surprised.

My attitude had sunken to the point that getting fired just made it easier to avoid anything having to do with real life. Bills piled up. The remaining alimony from my ex, dwindling meager savings, and credit cards barely covered food and rent on the little house Tracie and I had moved into. After the holidays, I dragged myself into a couple half-hearted attempts at getting another job, but I couldn't even stay sober for the interviews.

My big success was getting on unemployment. How's that for a new year's resolution? Those state checks did help with the bills. But beyond that, drinking and sleeping through the days had become common for me, and those wasted days turned into wasted weeks. I had never felt so numb and alone in my life.

The worst part of it all was how my relationship with my stepdaughter was suffering. I loved Tracie like crazy, but she wanted less and less to do with me. You might say that's a normal thing for any teenager, but I knew the reason was my drinking. My daughter and I had always been especially close, and as she grew more distant, I knew it was my fault.

One bitter January day I found a precious school essay Tracie had written back in seventh grade...

~*~

THE ONLY STEP IS A STEP UP!

By Tracie Gasparo

A person I admire is my mother Lorraine Gasparo. Most people get their mom through birth, but I wasn't that lucky. I was more lucky! I got to choose my mom.

My biological mom left when I was two years old, so I didn't really have a mom until I was six. It was just me and my dad, with some help from my Grandma and Grandpa. Dad dated a bunch of women while I was little, and he always would bring them home to meet me. One of the good things about my dad is he wanted me to have a good mom.

For most of the ladies Dad introduced me to, I just remember them as pretty strangers who came over and said hello few times, and then I'd never see them again. But that was okay, because I didn't like them much. I mean, I was little, but even little kids have a sense about people. Sometimes I think kids have a better sense about people than grown-ups do!

The woman I definitely remember meeting is Lorraine. When I first met her, I thought she was the most beautiful lady I'd ever seen. But more than that, she was nice to me. Not that fake kind of nice, where they pat you on the head and tell you you're cute and then they turn all their attention to your dad. Lorraine was different.

I remember she was the only one that got down to my level, literally. She kneeled down when she talked to me, because I was only a little six year old. She looked me in my eyes and I knew she really cared about what I was saying.

I thought Lorraine was special right from the start. It was like as soon as she walked in the door, I thought, "There's my mom!" I remember sitting on her lap the first time I met her and feeling like "This is where I want to be!"

Another thing I admire about my mom is she is not impressed by money. She thinks spending time with the people you love is more important, and I agree.

And the biggest thing I admire about my mom is that she works hard as a parent. My dad is gone most of the time, earning money for our family. My mom is the one who cooks me delicious dinners, takes me shopping for school clothes every year, listens to my problems, gives me advice, puts on great Halloween parties for me and my friends, drives me around to all my activities, and is always there to cheer me on in my sports. I think if I asked my mom to take me to the moon, she would find a way to do it!

Lorraine is my stepmom, but to me, the only "step" about my mom is a step up! I hope one day that I will be as good of a mother to my children as my mom is to me. These are some of the reasons why I admire my mom Lorraine Gasparo.

~*~

That brutal winter day, I held that old school paper to my chest and cried, wishing I could still be the good mother Tracie had written about.

I needed my daughter's love, but I couldn't be worthy of it. I had started to see disappointment in Tracie's beautiful eyes whenever she looked at me. That was more than I could take sober. I was in a terrible loop: the more I drank, the more my daughter rejected me, so the more I drank. I was pushing the best thing in my life away, and I didn't know how to stop.

~*~

One bright, cold Wednesday afternoon, I found Tracie sitting at our dining room table, studying. I looked at the clock. It was unusual enough for my stepdaughter to be at home at all those days, but especially at that time after school, when she was usually at practice for one of her teams.

"Hey sweetie," I said, "hasn't basketball started yet?"

Not looking up from her schoolwork, she said, "Yeah, they started weeks ago."

"So, what's going on? I thought you were going to be one of their starters this year."

"I decided not to play basketball this year."

"Oh, wow. I'm surprised you never mentioned it to me. Why not?"

She looked at me. "Why am I not playing? Or why didn't I mention it to you?"

I knew why she didn't mention it - because she didn't like talking to me anymore. "Why don't you want to play?"

She looked back to her study materials. "Because it's my junior year. The school counselors say it's the most important year for college admissions. I want a perfect four-point-oh in all my classes. Volleyball will be good enough for athletic scholarships, but I need strong grades, too."

I shook my head in admiration. I never even got my high school diploma. I left home before I finished school, to get away from my mother. I finally ended up getting my GED certificate, but it wasn't easy for me.

"You're amazing, Tracie," I said, patting her on the shoulder. "I'm so proud of you."

Tracie looked back up at me. Her eyes were wide.

"What?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said curiously. "You just don't say things like that to me so much anymore. Thanks."

How long had it been since I stopped complimenting my daughter? I tried to hide the sadness welling up in me. I said, "Well that's my fault, not yours, honey. Don't let your old mama's problems bring you down. You are amazing. I don't know how you got so smart."

"How else?" she said. "From being like you, Mom." The emotion in her eyes hurt my heart.

I gave her a quick kiss on the top of her pretty young head, but before I could leave, Tracie grabbed my hand. She kissed it for a long moment, then held it to her cheek, as if wishing that I would get better.

My whole body was trembling. I had to get away before I broke down crying in front of my daughter. She deserved a strong, happy, supportive mom, not the pathetic thing I had become. I slipped my hand from her. I tried to say, "I love you, Tracie," but the words caught in my throat.

"I love you too, Mom."

All I could do was nod gratefully and hurry to my bedroom. I kept a rocks glass and a bottle hidden in there, and I needed them quick. I closed the door so Tracie wouldn't hear me cry.