WHEN MY DAD DIED, I THOUGHT THE WORST HAD ALREADY HAPPENED. I HAD NO IDEA THAT MY STEPMOTHER AND HER ADULT CHILDREN WERE ABOUT TO MAKE MY PAIN MUCH WORSE, AND THEN MY MOM SHOWED UP WITH THE ONE THING THEY NEVER EXPECTED.
After my parents divorced, I stayed with my dad. Not because I didn’t love my mom. I did. But she was moving out of state, and I didn’t want to leave my school, my friends, or the room I had grown up in. Both my parents understood that.
When dad married Sharon, I tried to make it work. She didn’t.
She barely tolerated me. Her smiles seemed fake, and her tone was always sharp.
Like when she’d say, “You left the plate in the sink again,” but with that sweet, sugary voice that screamed, “You’re not wanted here.”
Her adult children, Mark and Lisa, were just as bad. They’d come in like they owned the place, eat my dad’s food, turn up the TV, and look at me like I was a stray dog they hadn’t kicked out yet.
But dad had my back.
He never let them boss me around. If Sharon got cheeky, he’d step in. If Mark, my stepbrother, started with sarcastic remarks, dad would shut him down immediately. He was the buffer between them and me. And that made it bearable. That made it feel like home.
Just like that. A heart attack on an ordinary Tuesday. I was still in shock when we held the funeral. I felt like I was floating, completely spaced out.
Everyone said the usual things: He was a good man. He loved you so much. He’s in a better place now. I wanted to scream at them.
After the mass, I didn’t want to go home. There were too many memories. Too much tension. So, I stayed the night at my best friend Maddy’s house, a few blocks away.
Her family understood I needed time to clear my head.
The next morning, I walked back home.
I should’ve known something was wrong. The entryway was empty, but the porch… was full.
With all my stuff. My clothes, my books, the picture of my dad and me fishing when I was eight, and many other things were packed in cardboard boxes like they were trash.
A sweater I thought I had lost hung halfway out of one of the boxes.
I blinked, confused. “What…?”
I dropped my purse and ran to the door.
I shook the doorknob, knocked, knocked harder. That’s when the door opened, and Sharon was standing there, arms crossed, a smug expression on her face.
Behind her, Mark was leaning against the hallway wall, smiling smugly. Lisa, his sister, was sitting on the stairs, looking at her phone and barely glancing up.
“You didn’t really think you’d be staying here, did you?” Sharon said, tilting her head. “This house is for the family.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“This was your dad’s house,” she continued. “And now he’s gone, so as his wife, it’s mine, and it’s time for my family to move on. I suggest you do the same.”
My heart shattered. And I was homeless. Just days after burying my dad.
I whispered, “Are you kicking me out?”
Lisa snickered quietly, finally looking up from her phone and giving me a mocking smile. Mark smiled in the same way.
“You have no right,” I said, my voice cracking.
Sharon let out a little laugh. “Oh, sweetie. Yes, I do. Now, please take your things and leave. If you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to call the police.”
And she slammed the door in my face. I knew she’d follow through with her threat, so I hurried to grab what I could: my backpack, a bag full of clothes, and the framed photo of my dad and me.
My fingers were shaking so badly that I dropped it once. I was still on the porch when I felt eyes on me. Our neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, was standing on her porch, watching.
She quietly walked up to me and said, “If you need a place to go, I have a free couch.”
An older woman walking along a path | Source: Midjourney
I probably should have gone back to Maddy’s house, but I was so shaken that I could barely nod and thank the kind elderly woman.
That night, I sat on her couch, hugging my knees to my chest, with the porch light barely coming through the living room window.
I felt small. Lost. As if everything solid in my life had cracked apart.
And then I took out my phone. I didn’t want to do it.
Someone holding a phone | Source: Midjourney
My mom hadn’t been able to take time off work to come to Dad’s funeral to support me. But I didn’t know what else to do.
“Mom?” My voice cracked, and she immediately got worried. “No, I’m fine. I mean… well, actually no. It’s Sharon… She changed the locks. She said the house is for the family and kicked me out.”
“I know you couldn’t come because of work, but I’m at Mrs. Jenkins’ house. I guess I could take a bus tomorrow…”
“No,” my mom cut me off. “Stay there. I’ll be there in a few hours.”
A woman using a phone | Source: Midjourney
And she hung up. She drove all night.
When I woke up around six the next morning, I heard her car pulling into Mrs. Jenkins’ house. I ran outside barefoot.
She stepped out, and I jumped into her arms.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
Then she pulled away and looked me in the eyes.
A middle-aged woman on a neighborhood sidewalk | Source: Midjourney
“Sweetheart, I need to tell you something. Something your father didn’t want you to know,” she said. “And there’s something else he didn’t want Sharon and her kids to know either.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
She took a deep breath. “Sweetheart, I didn’t go to your father’s funeral because… that’s why we separated. I cheated on him. He wouldn’t have wanted me there. We ended on horrible terms, but we hid it well. Neither of us wanted you to know the truth,” she confessed, without looking me in the eyes for a single second. “I was really ashamed too.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I murmured. This was not the time for such a bombshell.
A teenager standing on the grass in front of a house, shocked | Source: Midjourney
“I know. I was awful, but I’m telling you now because…” —she paused, swallowing hard— “I wanted to fix it somehow. So, after the divorce, I paid off the entire mortgage in one go. And even though the deed was in my name, I told your father it would always be his house and yours.”
I stepped away from her, shaking my head. “Dad let you do that? Even after…?”
“Yes, but he always intended to give it to you one day,” she continued.
A woman smiling slightly | Source: Midjourney
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Mom insisted. “But, Cynthia, that means Sharon doesn’t actually own that house, because your dad never did. And I brought the deed to prove it.”
At that moment, Mrs. Jenkins’ voice could be heard. “Why don’t you both come inside? Looks like you’ve got an eviction to sort out,” she said, glancing between us with her kind smile.
Finally, I smiled too. “Okay,” I sighed.
A teenager standing in front of a house, smiling softly | Source: Midjourney
We waited until the weekend. Sharon and her kids had gone somewhere.
Mom called a locksmith Saturday morning.
I stayed there while the guy changed the locks. I watched as Mom calmly ordered a moving company to carefully pack Sharon and her kids’ things and place it all on the lawn.
Movers with their van | Source: Pexels
Early Monday morning, I heard her car pull up.
I didn’t even have to look. I heard the scream.
“What the hell is this?” Sharon’s voice cut through the air like a siren.
I peeked out the window. She was wearing slippers and a travel sweatshirt, and her eyes were puffy. Mark was shouting behind her, and Lisa was crying.
“THIS IS OUR HOUSE!” Sharon screamed. “OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!”
A middle-aged woman in a front yard shouting | Source: Midjourney
Mom opened the door slowly, holding the deed in one hand. “Oh,” she said, as calm as always. “I think there’s been a little misunderstanding. This isn’t your house.”
Sharon stood there, speechless, staring at the paper. “What is that?”
“It’s the deed to the house,” Mom continued. “It’s mine. Do you see? My ex-husband never owned it. So, you illegally kicked out my daughter. I just corrected your mistake.”
Mark made a noise like an angry dog and tried to push her.
A young man frowning | Source: Midjourney
Mom stepped in his way. “If you come any closer, I’ll call the police.”
It went on for about ten minutes. Sharon was crying. Lisa collapsed onto a box, dramatically lamenting. And some other neighbor must have called the police because of the disturbance.
We had to explain everything while Sharon, Mark, and Lisa tried to play the victims to the officers. In the end, they had nothing to back them up.
The police told them to leave, and they were forced to gather their things and go. We watched it all from inside the house.
Police officers | Source: Pexels
When they left, we sat on the couch, and I felt like I could breathe again.
“Are you okay?” Mom asked.
I nodded. “Better.”
She smiled. “So, now that it’s all done, we’ll put the deed in your name once you turn eighteen. Just a few weeks left. I want you to have a future they can’t touch.”
I didn’t say anything right away. I just hugged her.
A teenager hugging her mom on a couch | Source: Midjourney
At that moment, I didn’t care what had happened in the past. That could wait.
For now, I could relax and take the time I needed to grieve my dad… safely, in our home.
