She’s squeezing Kelley’s fingers so hard, she’s surprised his fingers don’t break. Please let Bart be okay! Not on that convoy! Her most recent memory of Bart is from eighteen months previous, when Bart’s senior class came to New York City. Margaret offered the class a guided tour of CBS studios, with herself, “Bart’s stepmother,” as their guide. Bart texted her before the class arrived, saying, “I told everyone you were my stepmom, okay? Hashtag avoidconfusion.”
Margaret laughed and laughed at this. She is something of a reverse stepmother to Bart, the first wife of his father, the mother to his half siblings. Why isn’t there a term for this relationship? Surely, there must be thousands of instances. Maybe because an actual relationship between a woman and the child of her ex-husband is so rare?
Margaret has always been fond of Bart. He has characteristics of Kelley’s that her own kids do not—Kelley’s aquiline nose, his golden hair, his sense of mischief. Bart got in a lot of trouble growing up. But then, so did Kelley.
The day Bart came into the studio, Margaret was as motherly as possible; she kissed him hello, she tousled his shaggy hair (all shaved off now, she supposes), she teased him about his excellent grades, or lack thereof. He had glowed from all her attentions, and at the end he hugged her and said, “Thanks, Mmmmmm.” She hadn’t been sure if he meant to call her Margaret or Mom.
“For you,” she said. “Anything, anytime, always and forever.”
His grin, both sweet and wicked, was all Kelley.
She misses him, she who honestly barely knows him. How must everyone else feel?