When I was nine, if I had dared raise my hand to another adult, I'm certain I would have been knocked into the middle of next week. But my dear spouse just sat there, lowered his head, and looked guilty. Somehow, we diffused the situation and all was reasonably well until the kids left. That was the one and only time I ever saw them in person. I'm still angry about that physical slap and all the rest of the disrespectful figurative slaps that have come my husband's way since then...
There were the little slaps when he would try to call his daughters, attempting to stay involved in their lives. They would refuse to answer the phone. Or when they did pick up, they had nothing to say... their minds full of the warped bullshit spewed by their sick mother. There was the hateful shove the youngest girl gave my husband when he tried to connect with her when he last saw her in person and she refused to speak to him. There was the vicious kick to the balls that little shit delivered when she sent my husband a hateful letter just in time for his birthday, demanding that he sign adoption papers so that her mother's worthless and workless third husband could legally adopt her and her sister.
You know... I almost wish he had just signed those papers. She and her sister do not deserve the man who is their biological father. He is leagues better than they are. He is kind and decent and treats other people with respect instead of smug superiority. He is loving and faithful and loyal... He doesn't turn his back on other people. His daughters have turned out to be just as horrible as their mother is. Underneath their sweet, modest, chaste facade, my husband's daughters are full of blackness.
My husband still watches his daughters from afar. They have no idea how much he loves and cares about both of them. They think he just left them. Maybe if he had just left them, this would all be less painful.
I know my husband's daughter is 17 and brainwashed... but I still want to scratch her eyes out. And I can't help but hope that karma delivers to her the same kind of pain she's delivered to her father. I hope someday she has hateful, vindictive children who disown her and reject her with the same callousness. Maybe it's wrong for me to say and think these things... after all, I am technically her stepmother. But I'm also a human being. I love my husband more than anything... but, God help me, I hate his kids almost as much as I hate their crazy mother.