My Step-Dad Glen - Part 5
As I've mentioned, the first year my mom and Glen were married was the "adjustment period." I had been used to getting my way for years, and I was not used to sharing my mom with anyone, so we had a few rocky moments now and then.
It was the last week of my grounding for accidentally setting Peter's garage on fire, and my track coach had arranged for our whole team to spend a long weekend at his wife's company's beachfront condo. The problem was, my grounding didn't officially end until Sunday, and everyone was caravanning down Friday night. I begged and pleaded with my parents to let me go, but they wouldn't budge. I had always been able to get around this kind of thing with my mom, so I was sure it was Glen behind my not being able to go and I was furious with him.
When Friday night came around I was feeling very sullen and picked on, and I didn't see what the big deal would be ending my grounding just a couple of days short. At dinner my dad warned me to sit up straight and change my attitude, and I guess later that night when we were watching TV in the livingroom I should have known that I was asking for it when my mom nicely asked me if I wanted her to make us all popcorn and I responded with some flip remark.
"That's it" said my dad, standing up and pulling me to my feet by my upper arm.
"What?" I said. "What did I do now?"
"I'm sick of your attitude, young man" he said as he dragged me to the diningroom. He pulled out a chair and faced it toward the wall opposite the livingroom, and then pushed me into it hard. I HATED this particular punishment ("time in the chair"), and he knew it. "You just sit there until you're ready to behave like a gentleman" he said, and walked into the kitchen to help my mom.
I crossed my arms angrily and slouched in the chair. I was determined to wait him out, and I was pretty sure that if I ignored them when they walked back out to the livingroom they'd start to feel bad for me. They did finally walk out with popcorn and sodas, and they had the gall to actually laugh at whatever was happening on the TV. The longer I sat there, the more I realized it was a losing battle. The show we had been watching ended and the next started.
Now I wanted to get up and apologize, but I felt it was so humiliating and I couldn't bring myself to do it. The longest he had ever made we stay like that was for two hours, but I have to be honest and say that it really was my decision to sit there and stubbornly sulk.
When I heard the ending credits for the next show they were watching I realized it must have been close to an hour and I didn't feel like sitting there anymore and my impatience started to override my angst about apologizing.
I forced myself to get up and I stood in the archway between the livingroom and diningroom. "Did somebody say you could get up?" asked my dad without looking at me.
"I want to behave now" I said, quietly.
My dad muted the television, looked up at me and said, "What?"
"I want to behave now" I said again, louder, and I had to sniff hard though I managed to keep my eyes from spilling over.
"Well I'm glad to hear that" said my dad, raising his arm in a gesture that I knew meant for me to come sit under it. I did, and he let his arm drape across my shoulders.
I sighed and put my head on his chest, working to keep my voice calm. "It's not fair, dad" I managed to say. "I really want to go."
He kissed my forehead and said, "It's fair, kid. We love you" he said, hugging me tightly for a second, "but we're not shortening your grounding. You could have burnt down their whole house, son. Can you imagine if that happened to us? Where would we go? How could we replace everything in the house, especially things like wedding photos and baby pictures and stuff that can't --"
"I know, dad, okay? I know" I said, interrupting him. I pushed my head hard into his chest as I spoke, and he stopped talking and gently scratched my head.
"I don't think a grounding is too much punishment for that kind of error" he finally said.
"I got spanked, too" I said, maybe a little too belligerently.
"You want another one?" he said, tapping my head with his finger.
"No, sir" I said, and put my leg over his.
I felt my mother's hand on my back then, and I heard her say, "What was that beach you told me about honey? Where you used to camp as a kid."
"McGrath?" said my dad.
"Yeah" said my mom. "Maybe we should all go there next weekend."
"That sounds great!" said my dad.
"What's McGrath?" I asked, sitting up.
"It's a beach we used to camp on when I was in college. There's campsites and picnic tables and toilets and even hot showers. That sounds like a lot of fun!" he said, and he was positively beaming at my mom.
"Would you like that?" he asked me, and I suddenly brightened.
"Sure!" I said.
"Well, I'll make reservations then" he said, and a week later we piled into the car and were headed up PCH toward McGrath Beach.
It was summer, so there were a lot of people there. Many had campers, but we had brought tents; a two-man for me and a three-man for my mom and dad (one-man tents are literally big enough to hold one very large adolescent and that's it). The campsites were set way back from the beach, at least a couple of thousand yards, but the walk was short and it was a lot of fun camping on a beach like that. I had never done it before, and neither had my mom. We all played in the ocean together and tossed a frisbee around, and laid out tanning in the hot sun. It was a really good time.
My mom went back to camp ahead of us to take a shower, and when we got back she was already making dinner on a small coleman stove. "You two hurry up with your showers" she said, "and don't forget those" she said, pointing to an opened roll of quarters. The showers ran cold water for free, but you had to put quarters in a slot for hot water. We grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the showers in our swimming trunks and sandals, our clean clothes thrown over our shoulders.
It was very crowded in the men's bathroom. There were only four stalls, three urinals, and five showers, and there was a line for the showers. There was a long bench along one wall, and sitting on it was a heavy set man holding a boy about 11 by his wrist.
"What did I tell you?" said the man to his son.
"Come on!" said the boy, trying to pull free of his dad's grip.
"That's it" said his father, and I involuntarily grabbed my own dad's wrist when the man on the bench pulled his son over his lap and yanked his swimming trunks down and off right there in front of the whole room full of guys waiting for the showers.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! His hand rained down on the poor kid's butt. The whole room shifted uneasily, but some of the younger kids were watching with their mouths hanging open. Just as I saw one father of a kid a little younger than me grab his son's shoulder and turn him away from the scene I felt my own dad's hand on my shoulder turning me to face him instead of the boy being spanked.
I looked up at my dad, and he grimaced and gently punched/tapped my nose. I could hear the boy bawling behind me now, and as we stepped forward in line I glanced back and saw him holding his swimming trunks up in front of himself and bawling like a baby. I was really embarrassed for him.
Just then two showers came free and the man in line ahead of us, "Why don't you two take that one, and we'll take this one?" and he put his hand on his son's shoulder and pushed him forward. I laughed nervously. The other kid with his dad was maybe 11 or 12, but I was 14! I didn't want to get in the same shower stall with my dad, but as my dad opened the door I saw that the shower stall had two parts. There was the shower itself, and then a little area about the same size just before the shower that the door opened on to where you could hang your clothes and put your things on a squat bench.
"Come on" said my dad, tugging at my arm, and I followed him in. My dad fumbled with the quarters in the little change box on the wall and I slipped off my sandals and trunks. Just as I was about to step over to the shower my dad pulled off his trunks and stepped in ahead of me.
"Okay, you go first" I said.
He looked at my feet and said, "Keep your sandals on, son" and grimaced at the floor. I slipped them back on my feet, and the next thing I knew my dad had me by the upper arm and was pulling me under the hot stream of water.
"Hey!" I said, feeling very self conscious as I wiped the water out of my eyes. When my vision cleared my dad was smiling at me and was opening a bottle of shampoo. He put some into his hand and then instead of reaching up to his own head he slapped it down on my own and started rubbing it into my hair.
"Dad" I whispered, exasperated.
"What? Your own dad can't wash your hair?" and I was suddenly aware of the sounds around us. The younger boy and his father in the stall next to us were obviously bathing together, the one spanked boy was still bawling his head off, and there was a lot of noise and chatter in the room in addition to the sounds of the five showers.
I laughed and gave in and let him wash my hair. I put my hand on his chest for balance, and as my hand rested there I wondered if I would have hair on my chest like him when I got older.
"What?" he said, noticing the way I was staring at him.
"Will I have this?" I said, tugging at his chest hair.
"Ow!" he said, slapping my hand away and smiling. He poked me hard in the chest, making me giggle. "Maybe" he said. "Won't know until it happens."
"If I was really your son would I for sure?" I asked.
It was an innocent question, but he scowled and tapped his lower lip in his "gimme kiss" gesture. Without thinking I kissed him, then quickly pulled away embarrassed as he said, "How many naked men do you kiss in the shower?"
"Dad!" I said, chagrined.
"I AM 'really' your dad, kid, you got that?" and he gently tapped my nose.
"Yes, sir" I said, smiling back at him. "I didn't mean it like that, though."
"All right" he said, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me under the water. We had brought liquid body soap and we each squeezed some into our hands and started lathering up all over. I looked at the dark shadow on his chin and said, "I want to shave every day like you." As it was I had to shave off a few little hairs maybe once a week.
He laughed and said, "No, you don't."
"What do you mean?" I said, turning into the water to rinse off.
"Trust me, Ryan" I heard him say from behind me. "It looks like fun now, but it's a real pain in the butt when you get older." His arm reached around from behind me and I felt his finger graze my chin. "I'd go back to this in a minute if I could."
"Would not!" I said, stepping out of the way so that he could rinse himself.
"Yeah, I think I would" he said, stretching and bending as he rinsed under the shower. We finished just as the water started to get cold. My dad stepped into the other area and handed me a towel and dried off there as I dried off in the shower.
He wrapped his towel around his waist, and when I had pulled up my sweats he opened the door and we stepped out and let the next man in. I ducked out quickly, kind of embarrassed, but as I did that the stall at the end of the row opened and a guy about my age stepped out with his dad, also looking very awkward.
The guy my age had a towel around his waist, and he pulled his trunks up underneath his towel and then took the towel off. I had wondered if my dad was going to change out there in front of everybody (he wasn't the least bit modest) but after we combed our hair he headed straight for the door.
"Dad!" I said, looking at the towel around his waist.
"Who's to know I don't have trunks on underneath?" and he smiled and walked out. I followed.
We made our way back to our little campsite, and I did see another guy a little older than me with a towel around his waist walking passed us. As he neared I looked carefully at his waist (trying not to be obvious about it) and I was sure I caught a glimpse of red swimming trunks underneath. From a distance, though, he had looked like he only had the towel on, and no one seemed to pay any attention to my dad.
When we got back to our campsite my mom kissed us both and I blurted out, "That's all he's got on" and she said, "Glen!" sort of reprimandingly.
"Sarah!" he said, mimicking her manner. As he turned toward their tent she quickly stepped over and yanked his towel down and off and he yelled, "Hey!" as he dove for the inside of the tent. I thought I was going to bust a gut.
She turned to me and said, "You want to go running around naked, too?" but she was smiling.
"No, ma'am" I said, still laughing hard.
A minute later my dad came out wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. We all ate together, and as I looked at both of them gently knock their heads together and giggle quietly I was so happy and I loved them both so much.
"Mom?" I ventured.
She looked at me and when I didn't say anything she said, "What?"
"I'm glad you married dad" I said, feeling very awkward. "You're -- you're prettier now, you know, since you got together." I blushed, not quite sure what I was trying to say, but meaning every word.
She tapped her lower lip in a mock gesture of my dad and said, "Maybe I can get a kiss in public now and then" and I immediately leaned across the table and kissed her. My dad leaned over and kissed her cheek, and she suddenly stood up and said, "All right. All right. You're going to get me going" and she wiped at her eyes and laughed. Another thing I noticed but didn't point out just then was that she seemed to cry more easily since Glen came into our lives, but in a good way; not sadly.
We went for a walk after dinner. We made our way through the campground a bit so that we could explore the other side of the beach. As we strolled down the main path I heard, SMACK "ow!" SMACK "ow!" over and over again. Rounding a corner I came to a halt as I could see a guy a lot older than me getting paddled by his dad. He was wearing swimming trunks and a t-shirt, but he was getting it in front of what looked to be his mom and grandparents. Tears were streaming down his face, and I thought to myself how horrible to be paddled like that out in the open in front of your whole family and strangers passing by.
Just then my parents caught up with me, and my dad poked me in the ribs to get moving when he saw what I was watching. My mom put her hand on my back and I whispered, "That's awful!"
"We don't know what he did" she said.
"Oh, come on! I'd hate you guys if you ever did that to me."
"What?" asked my dad, startled.
"You know" I said. "Paddled me like that in front of a bunch of other people -- and out in the open where anyone walking by could see."
"Well" said my dad. "Like your mother says, we don't know what he did."
"Nothing could be that bad" I said, and I looked at them both angrily.
"Hey, what's with the mean looks?" my dad said, pulling me closer and putting his arm over my shoulder as we walked.
"I just think that's really awful" I said. They clearly didn't understand. "Oh, my God!" I whispered fiercely and pointed for both of them to look. Much farther ahead of us was a young boy -- it was hard to tell how old from that distance -- completely naked and being spanked over his mom's knee.
"Jesus Christ!" I said. "What is it, Beat the Children Day or something?"
"Now that's wrong" said my mom, frowning at the boy ahead of us.
"I don't know" said my dad, turning us both in another direction so that we wouldn't walk near the boy being spanked. "I think it might do Ryan some good if we took him out into the middle of the campground and whacked his bare bottom while everyone watched; instill a little respect into this kid" and he ruffled my hair.
"That's NOT funny, dad" I said as he grinned at me.
"Oh, come on" he said, and tried to pull me to him again but I yanked my arm angrily away from him.
He came to a stop and said, "I'm only kidding, son. You know that."
I suddenly felt very indignant and I was ashamed and embarrassed at the way my eyes watered up. "Well why do you guys get to do that anyway? I mean, ever?" and I had to shut up then in order to keep my emotions in check.
"Oh, honey -- " my mom started, but I turned angrily away from them and kept walking.
"Ryan?" my dad called as they followed me. They quickly caught up, and when I felt one of them touch my arm I again angrily yanked my arm away and then I heard my dad say, "Ryan, halt" in that tone he had that expected to be obeyed.
I stopped and turned around, angrily crossing my arms. I looked everywhere but right at them because I was trying not to cry.
"Hey" said my dad. "We were having such a nice time. What just happened?"
"I just don't think it's right is all" I said, looking up into the nearest tree. "It's not fair."
"Please look at me when you talk to me, son" he said, and I forced myself to look at him and had to wipe angrily at my eyes.
"Let me tell you some things, okay?" he said, and put his hands on my sides. I looked away again, and he said, "Ryan? Can I tell you some things, son?"
I swallowed passed the lump in my throat and said, "Yes, sir. Can we just keep walking, though?"
He kissed me and said, "Yes, sir" and it was so unexpected that he would call me sir that I was momentarily startled out of my bad feelings. Putting his hand on my back as we walked he said, "Look at it this way, son. Your mom and I have to work all day long, every day while you get to play with your friends and go to track meets and -- "
"That's not -- " I started to interrupt, but he said, "Let me finish, please."
"Yes, sir."
"We have to pay for the house, for the cars, for your food, for your clothes, for your bills and all you ever do is spend our money. That's kind of a mean way of saying it, but really, Ryan, what do you do that contributes other than taking out the trash and picking up the yard?"
"That's not the same, dad!" I said indignantly. "You're supposed to -- " I caught myself, suddenly seeing where this was going.
"Ha!" said my mom, and patted my back.
"Well..." I said.
"We're supposed to" she said. "You're right. And YOU'RE supposed to be the kid and do what we say."
"And sometimes" my dad said, "that means taking your punishment."
I couldn't think of how to argue around that. I mean, I agreed with what they were saying, but it still seemed unfair to kids somehow. The boy being spanked naked over his mom's knee popped into my head then and I told them that even they thought that was wrong.
"Well," said my dad, "out there in front of God and everybody, yes. And some parents are bad parents in general, I'll grant you that. But I think we do a pretty good job, and I'm more inclined to spank your bare butt than over your pants."
"See!" I said.
"Ryan" said my dad impatiently. "We love you. We're your parents, and you have to do what we say. Look at it this way son, you could have THAT mother" he nodded over his shoulder, "than the mom and dad you have, right?" When I slouched and looked up at him he continued, "There's a real easy way we can take care of this, son."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You don't want to be spanked anymore, is that it? Is that what you're telling us?"
"Yeah! I mean, yes sir" I said, hoping that he was going to come up with some alternate plan.
"Well that's easy" he said. "You know what's right and what's wrong, and all you have to do is not break any more rules."
I let out an exasperated whine, thinking he was teasing me, but he said, "What?"
"That's a big help, dad" I said. "That's real funny" but as I turned away from him he grabbed my arm and stopped me.
"I'm serious" he said. Just then a woman and her daughter walked by us and as the daughter glanced at me my dad say, "Hey, got your keys?" which made me suddenly want to cry.
When they had passed us my dad grabbed both of my arms and said, "When you and Peter were playing with cigarettes you KNEW what you were doing was wrong, right? Next time, STOP for heaven's sake. If you know what you're doing is wrong, just stop or don't do it in the first place and you'll always avoid being punished."
"Well it's not always that easy" I said in a tight, strangled voice.
"I know" he said, pulling me to him and hugging me. "That's why you've got us to step in when things go awry. But you know what? It will get easier the older you get, I promise." He held me like that for a little while, and I felt my mom stroke the back of my head and run her hand up and down my back.
I really did love them both so much. I didn't know why I was so on edge all of a sudden. I guess it was just seeing both those kids and the boy at the showers getting spanked that bothered me so much. I said all this, and I was startled when my mom pinched my butt and said that it was okay.
"You'd never spank me, would you?" I said to her.
"What makes you think that?" she said.
"You never used to" I said.
"I also used to feel guilty about some of the awful things you used to do, and I felt like a bad mom because I didn't know how to discipline you" she said, looking embarrassed.
"Get out!" I said. "Like when?"
She rolled her eyes and said, "Gee, let me pick something from the list. How about the time you let the air out of Mr. Parker's tires because you were mad at him?"
I laughed and said, "Oh, yeah. He was so mad."
"What about the time you broke grandma's china?" she said. I winced, because I still felt kind of bad about that. I had thrown a minor tantrum when I was about 10, and I had angrily smashed a very old cup and saucer and it made my grandmother cry.
"Whoa" said my dad, grabbing the front of my sweats. "It sounds to me like someone got away with a little too much" and he pulled out the drawstring to my sweats and started to undo them right there in the middle of the pathway.
"What are you doing?" I asked in a panic.
"Put your hands down" he said as he undid the knot in the drawstring. I obediently put my hands at my sides, but I said, "Dad, come on. You're not serious."
As he loosened my sweats around my waist I said quickly, "Dad! Please? Dad?" and he reached up with his right hand and patted my side while holding up my sweats with his left.
"See what a nice dad you have?" he said, reaching down and pulling the drawstring tight.
"I guess I could do worse" I said sarcastically.
He pulled my waistband lose again, and I grabbed his hands and said, "Sorry" and he smiled and handed me the drawstrings, which I pulled tight and tucked back into sweats. We began walking together again, me in the middle with my arms over both their shoulders.
"I liked it when you called me 'sir'" I said.
"Don't get used to it" said my dad, and I bumped into him playfully as we walked on.