As hard as it was for her in the beginning, Stacy Stanford never blamed her mother for remarrying.
Stewart was a nice guy, and he seemed to make her mother very happy. He was nice, made plenty of money, and he was always happy to skirt the line between lenient potential father-figure while also minding the boundaries set by being the step-father in this shaky new family dynamic. He was open to bribery, was willing to stoop to respectfully mild levels in hopes of being “the cool boyfriend” and he had, at one point, taken the rap for a joint that Stacy had smuggled into the house during her sophomore year of high school. Her mother hadn’t been exactly mad about it, but it was the thought behind it that had eventually warmed her up to the thought of him being the new man of the house.
Aside from the ungodly amount St alliteration of their hyphenated names (they were now, say it together, Stewart and Stella Stanford-Sterns) Stacy had never had much reason to dislike the man—aside from the fact that he was sliding into the position left by her deceased father.
He seemed good for her mother, in more ways than one. Stella Stanford had become somewhat rigid before he came along, and his presence meant that her mother was smiling again. Going out on dates, telling stories, and not just holing up in her office as soon as she got off work. It was nice to have a normal mom again!
They had gotten married when Stacy was a Sophomore, and for about another year after that things were normal. Happy dinners, helping with homework, family nights every now and then, friends over, the whole package.
It was around the middle of her Junior year when they asked if they could talk to her—together—in the living room. All jazzed up for Prom season and feeling particularly romantic because of her new relationship (that would ultimately prove to be a typical high school heartbreak), she had been expecting to be greeted with the news that she was going to be getting a new baby brother or sister. Instead she was greeted with a different discussion entirely.
“So, honey…”
“What your mother wants to, uh… to say is that people… parents, uh…”
“Parents are people too, and people have needs and one of those needs is…”
The two of them fumbled step after step of the conversation, barely able to get a word in edgewise with Stacy remaining completely silent. Confident that she’d figured out the subject of the night’s impromptu family meeting, she was content to let them do most of the talking.
That had proved to be a mistake.
“I am going to go through… some changes…” her mother continued tentatively after mixing up several metaphors, “…very soon. And, I just want you to know that we are both very—”
“Very.”
“Excited about it.” Her smile turned somewhat sheepish with her husband’s enthusiastic addendum, “You see, Stewart and I—”
It was here, however that she decided to cut them off. That had proved to be an even bigger mistake.
“Don’t tell me—you’re pregnant.”
She had said it finally, unable to keep her conclusion to herself any longer. In her enthusiasm, the blank stares and stalled expression shared between them was lost on her. Teenaged confidence overcame her ability to read the room, and she blustered onwards.
“It’s no big deal you guys, I’m so ready to be a big sister!” she said with a wide, beaming smile, “And I’ll be a senior soon, so with the car that’s definitely coming for my eighteenth birthday I’ll be able to help out so much with the baby!”
“Um…” Stewart bit his bottom lip and turned to his wife, “That’s not… it’s not, right?”
“Honey, sit down.” Stacy’s mother said in a calm voice
“Already sitting, but okay.”
It was around this time that they doubled down on the whole “parents’ needs” thing. They went into detail about how important it was for two people who are very much in love to feel sexually accepted, with their wants and needs heard. This segued into a small lecture on the importance of waiting for sex until she was certain that it was the right person, which came just a bit too late. But ultimately, all it did was confuse poor Stacy—who was still not entirely unconvinced that she wasn’t going to be a big sister until her mother took a deep breath, puffed out her chest, and just cut through the crap.
“Stacy, I’m going to get fat.” She capped off her single-breath speech sternly and powerfully (with a disconcertingly sexual little shiver at the end), “Your mother is going to get very… very fat.”
And that had taken literally all of the air out of her daughter, who was left flabbergasted at the strange turn the conversation she hadn’t been listening too had taken. However, it had the opposite effect on both of the parents in the room. It clearly felt very good to say it.
“It’s been… a secret, shameful… kink of mine.” Her mother winced as the word ‘kink’ dropped out of her mouth like a spoon on the kitchen floor, “And, thanks to Stewart, I’ve decided to finally just… let go and become the big, fat woman that I was always meant to be.”
Stacy just sort of sat there, her mouth hanging open. So they continued.
“This is… probably a lot.” Her step-father stepped in, resituating on the couch as he leaned into the conversation, “We wanted to include you on this because… well, you’re going to be seeing a lot of changes. New furniture, new clothes—”
“A whole new mom!” Stella laughed headily, patting her flat stomach with laughter
“And we just wanted to let you know that everyone’s still very happy, and this… this doesn’t affect you at all. We still love you, we still love each other.” He said in a very warm, trustworthy voice, “There’s just going to be…”
“Oh God don’t say it.” Stacy cringed
“A whole lot more to love.”
Stewart chuckled to himself, wrapping his arms around his wife and kissing her brightly on the cheek.
On the upside to this upsetting turn of events, his Dad Jokes were improving.
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