Candy. To me,
Candy was a woman in five inch stilettos wearing blue tassels on her nipples as
she danced around the stripper pole. I thought Candace was a beautiful name,
but I had once overheard her tell someone that Candace made her sound old.
Ever since that day, she was Candace to me. I couldn’t overtly disparage her
without hurting daddy, so I had come to enjoy the little things I could
silently do to bother her.
He must have been sitting within hearing
distance, because her feigned excitement and bubbly questions were certainly
not a performance she would put on for just me. Dad and I talked about
Thanksgiving, one of his service buddies retiring and Coy, my golden
retriever. I told Dad that I met someone and was considering asking him to
come home with me for Thanksgiving, and he gave me the third degree, but
sounded pleased. I didn’t mention that he lived in Chicago and we had been
traveling back and forth, I knew it would only make him worry more.
Dad and I had been through a lot together
since my mom died in a car accident so many years ago. We both protected each
other from things that would worry the other as much as we could. That was why
I never told him about how Candace treated me after he found about her affair.
I was 15 the day that I saw Candace walking
with the young football coach from his car into a house on Maiden Lane. She
saw me too, but I didn’t realize it at the time. I was young, innocent and
trusting, so the thought never crossed my mind that she could be doing anything
wrong. I guess I just assumed she was discussing something about cheerleading,
since both of her girls were hoping to make the cheer squad and follow in their
mother’s footsteps from cheer captain to beauty queen.
Dad didn’t flinch when I mentioned I saw
Candace with Coach Fitzsimmons that afternoon, and it wouldn’t be until two
months later that I’d learn the truth while I eavesdropped on their argument
one night. All of the years in the service had trained Dad well. He knew
when to dig around when something didn’t sit right with him. After my innocent
comment, Dad had begun to follow Candace and found out she was having an affair
with the young high school football coach.
For months after that, they fought a lot.
But in the end, they decided to stay together and work it out. She blamed him
for working too much and not giving her the attention she needed. He blamed
her for breaking their vows and climbing into another man’s bed. I didn’t
think any one man had the time or strength to give Candace the attention she
thought she needed. But Dad had been through enough and who was I to judge.
After a year or so, they went back to normal
and the fights about Coach seemed fewer and further between. Dad had begun to
forgive her, but I’d already realized that Candace would never forgive me. I
know down deep he forgave Candace because he didn’t want to be alone again. He
didn’t want to experience the loss he felt when mom died. But Candace blamed
me for their problems, because I was the one who first told Dad about the
affair. She never believed that I acted innocently; she thought I wanted to
sabotage her marriage. Life became hell for me at home at 15.
Candace had always favored her two
daughters, but she was polite and friendly before. After the Coach incident,
she began her verbal assaults on me. Her brand of cruelty may not have been
physical, but it was no less scaring. At a time when girls needed their mother
most, I was inflicted with relentless assaults of how ugly and unwanted I was
and that I would never find a man.
I didn’t tell dad and she didn’t do it in
front
Candy was a woman in five inch stilettos wearing blue tassels on her nipples as
she danced around the stripper pole. I thought Candace was a beautiful name,
but I had once overheard her tell someone that Candace made her sound old.
Ever since that day, she was Candace to me. I couldn’t overtly disparage her
without hurting daddy, so I had come to enjoy the little things I could
silently do to bother her.
He must have been sitting within hearing
distance, because her feigned excitement and bubbly questions were certainly
not a performance she would put on for just me. Dad and I talked about
Thanksgiving, one of his service buddies retiring and Coy, my golden
retriever. I told Dad that I met someone and was considering asking him to
come home with me for Thanksgiving, and he gave me the third degree, but
sounded pleased. I didn’t mention that he lived in Chicago and we had been
traveling back and forth, I knew it would only make him worry more.
Dad and I had been through a lot together
since my mom died in a car accident so many years ago. We both protected each
other from things that would worry the other as much as we could. That was why
I never told him about how Candace treated me after he found about her affair.
I was 15 the day that I saw Candace walking
with the young football coach from his car into a house on Maiden Lane. She
saw me too, but I didn’t realize it at the time. I was young, innocent and
trusting, so the thought never crossed my mind that she could be doing anything
wrong. I guess I just assumed she was discussing something about cheerleading,
since both of her girls were hoping to make the cheer squad and follow in their
mother’s footsteps from cheer captain to beauty queen.
Dad didn’t flinch when I mentioned I saw
Candace with Coach Fitzsimmons that afternoon, and it wouldn’t be until two
months later that I’d learn the truth while I eavesdropped on their argument
one night. All of the years in the service had trained Dad well. He knew
when to dig around when something didn’t sit right with him. After my innocent
comment, Dad had begun to follow Candace and found out she was having an affair
with the young high school football coach.
For months after that, they fought a lot.
But in the end, they decided to stay together and work it out. She blamed him
for working too much and not giving her the attention she needed. He blamed
her for breaking their vows and climbing into another man’s bed. I didn’t
think any one man had the time or strength to give Candace the attention she
thought she needed. But Dad had been through enough and who was I to judge.
After a year or so, they went back to normal
and the fights about Coach seemed fewer and further between. Dad had begun to
forgive her, but I’d already realized that Candace would never forgive me. I
know down deep he forgave Candace because he didn’t want to be alone again. He
didn’t want to experience the loss he felt when mom died. But Candace blamed
me for their problems, because I was the one who first told Dad about the
affair. She never believed that I acted innocently; she thought I wanted to
sabotage her marriage. Life became hell for me at home at 15.
Candace had always favored her two
daughters, but she was polite and friendly before. After the Coach incident,
she began her verbal assaults on me. Her brand of cruelty may not have been
physical, but it was no less scaring. At a time when girls needed their mother
most, I was inflicted with relentless assaults of how ugly and unwanted I was
and that I would never find a man.
I didn’t tell dad and she didn’t do it in
front
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