Savage Daughter

It's interesting how stories can morph and change during the writing process. This was supposed to be a nice little short story, but I decided I wanted a song to help solidify things just a bit. What I didn't expect was finding 'Mother's Savage Daughter' and the way it so perfectly fit into what I envisioned. Well, that and the way it impacted the story line, giving it a whole new life, bringing an entirely new depth of emotion. This one made me cry a few times, and still does when I read it. I hope it touches you.

As always, please leave me a comment when you're done. I hope you enjoy my little story.

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It should have been innocuous enough. We'd barely walked in the door. Coming home from a sort of impromptu party that had happened when my dad, stepmom and I had run into some old friends at the barbecue place we liked.

I'd just graduated college, and we'd spent most of the day moving me back home. Beth didn't feel like cooking. After loading and driving and unloading all day, why would she? So, we went out, running into another family we knew that had spent the day doing the same thing. I'd gone to school with their daughter Kimberly since first grade, so we all sat together and swapped stories.

"So, when are you going to cut your hair?" Kimberly had said it. She'd been saying it for as long as I'd known her. No big deal. It was a running joke between us that, one day, I'd get it cut so she could have a wig made and we could be twins. We both laughed. Innocuous, right?

Yeah, except, or until it wasn't.

"You know, Sam. Kim was right." And it started. I'd heard it all before, and so had Beth, but I guess I had graduated. I was an adult. That made things different.

Back and forth, the same old tired argument. Until she drew the line in the sand.

"Because you're my son, and this is my house! No son of mine is going to look like a girl! That's why!"

"No, Beth, I'm not 'your son'. You'll never be my mother! You're not even an acceptable cheap imitation." I wasn't yelling. My words were cold and calculated.

That's what started it, or ended it, I should say. My stepmom Beth was adamant I get my hair cut if I was going to stay in her house.

It was just hair. I knew it. She knew it. My dad knew it. I had even compromised and gotten my hair trimmed for their wedding, but hadn't had more than a slight trim since. My deep auburn locks hung down to the middle of my back, almost touching my belt when it was wet. Dry, it hung in soft curls just below my shoulder blades.

Every girl I knew was jealous of my full, luscious strands. Well, except my stepmom, Beth. For some reason, she saw it as the bane of her existence, and therefore, mine.

I told myself the only reason I didn't get it cut was to piss Beth off. I knew the actual reasons, too. They just lived in a place I had been too afraid to go. The memories of my real mom hurt too much.

"Sam, it's just hair." My dad heard us arguing.

"Yeah, dad. My hair." I shot back. Honestly, I think we all knew we weren't fighting about my hair, but none of us wanted to admit it.

My dad knew what I was going through, how much I was struggling with Beth's domineering, controlling personality. I didn't understand why he put up with it. I was just stubborn, or angry enough that I thought I didn't have to. Perhaps it was the sense of order she brought into his life. Maybe she was just a beast in bed. For a woman her age, she was still an absolute fox.

My mom had taken care of all the details for years. When she died, things kind of fell apart. That sense of order had held my dad's life together. Mine too, I guess. With Beth, though, it didn't feel like there was any compassion behind it. My dad disagreed, but to me, it felt like it was all about control. My mom, my real mom, would never have cared about something as stupid as my hair. In fact, she had liked it.

For Beth, it was a hill worth dying on. I guess for me, too.

Me standing up to Beth, especially what I said; 'not even an acceptable cheap imitation' was brutal. She tried. I knew she did. She just wasn't my mom, and that was her greatest sin.

It had gotten ugly fast. What I said crossed the line. I hit her in the one place I knew it would do the most damage.

From the looks on their faces, I also knew I needed some place else to be and was totally unprepared to be in that situation.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I just can't do this." I pulled my jacket on and slung my backpack over my shoulder, and just left.

My dad didn't try to stop me. Fuck, this was bad.

Fighting back tears, I climbed on my bike and just rode. When I got tired, I stopped at a cheap no-name motel and crashed, praying I didn't get bedbugs, abducted, or worse. Stops only for gas, snacks, and to stretch my legs; I rode straight through. Until I found myself at my uncle Rick's door.

I knocked. There was no answer. Just like my dad, he was a cop. There was no telling where he was or what he was doing. I dropped my pack and leaned up against the wall to just wait.

My phone died shortly after midnight, which was fine. I was sick of 'Bloons Tower Defense,' anyway. It wasn't long after that, I fell asleep. I just hoped he wasn't out of town and hadn't moved.

I almost thought I was at home when I woke up, except the bed was far too comfortable and the fight I had with Beth and my dad was too raw in my memory.

Yawning and stretching, I sat up and swung my legs off the bed. It hit me that whoever had put me here had undressed me, leaving me in an oversized T-shirt and nothing else. Someone had seen me naked.

"Rick." I called out. No answer. I needed to pee, so I looked around a bit, knowing I'd eventually find the bathroom.

The bedroom I was in had to be the master. It was nice sized, and the bed and dresser were both very masculine. It had to be Rick's.

The first door I tried was his closet, the second was the bathroom. I took care of business and caught myself in the mirror. I knew why Beth wanted me to cut my hair. The way it fell across my shoulders and framed my face. Especially with the smattering of freckles across my nose and cheeks, it made me look like a girl. Worse, it made me look like my mom, and, if I was right, that bothered her more than anything. Add staunch fundamentalist values to being a retired Army drill instructor, and yeah, it was an issue for Beth.

My mom liked it long. She used to brush it for me sometimes. That memory was part of the reason I was so adamant about not getting it cut.

My dad was too busy paying the bills, so he never cared. Maybe he thought I just missed my mom, and it helped with the pain. He wouldn't have been wrong.

He let me keep my hair long and didn't fuss too much until he got serious with Beth and realized it was an issue for her.

When I came home for Christmas the year he introduced me to Beth, we agreed to disagree. I was away at college most of the time, anyway. Then I graduated and came home for the summer to find a job and start my life. That's when it was something she had to deal with every day, but come on, it's just hair. After last night, well, it was probably a moot point.

Next, I needed to find my stuff so I could get dressed. There was a second bedroom just down the hall that Rick had turned into an office. It had a small daybed in the corner, covered in all kinds of stuff. I guess that was why I ended up in his bed. The apartment had a laundry nook embedded in the wall across from the office. The washer was running. Other than that, just the family room and the kitchen, with a dining area off to the side. On the table, I saw his note.

"Called your dad to let him know you're safe. Your clothes are in the wash. Make yourself at home. I put your name on my account at McAlister's if you want to get something to eat. Be back around 6. Rick."

I found a couple of eggs and some sandwich meat that was about to expire in the fridge, along with some American cheese slices. Digging out a frying pan, I tossed in the remains of the stick of butter I had found in the fridge and put together a decent omelet. No milk or juice; water was good enough.

Rick's sink was full of what had to be days' worth of dishes. What else did I have to do while I waited for the washer to finish its cycle? I started washing them. I found more in the living room, and a few more in his office. There was even a plate under his bed. What, was he in fricking high school, or something? Damn, he needed a girl in his life to take care of him. I laughed.

I had noticed it when I woke up. That distinct smell of old sweat and probably some stale sex, too. When the washer stopped, I moved my clothes to the dryer and stripped Rick's bed, throwing the sheets into the now empty washer.

I didn't stop there. I got the vacuum cleaner out of the laundry room and used it on all the carpets. Dusting what needed to be dusted, I finished by using the dust mop I had found next to the vacuum to take care of all the hardwood floors. The toilet and bathtub were in terrible shape, so I cleaned them, too. I even scrubbed out the fridge and did the best I could with the oven. By the time I was done, the apartment was spotless, and I was filthy.

I had just spent an hour cleaning Rick's bathroom, so I used the ensuite in his office to take a shower. There was shampoo and body wash in the tub. They both had a soft floral scent, but they were what was available, so I went with it.

The brushes and ponytail ties I found in the drawer in the vanity told me this had been a girl's bathroom at some point. On a whim, I looked under the sink. The blow dryer even had a defuser. Yup, Rick's office had been a girls' room.

I finished drying my hair and looked at myself in the mirror, smiling at the irony. Beth was right. My hair made me look like a girl and here I was in some strange girl's bathroom, using her stuff.

I picked up the ponytail tie to put my hair up. Fuck it. I liked the way I looked. I let my hair fall back down around my shoulders and pulled it back behind my ears.

There was a more immediate problem, anyway. I had spent all morning cleaning the apartment. I was hungry and there was no food in the fridge, and the stupid dryer was still running. Naked and hungry wasn't a brilliant combination.

"Maybe." A thought crossed my mind. I went to the closet and opened the door all the way, turning on the light. Just like the bathroom, this was a girl's closet.

"Jeans and a shirt. That's all I need." I started exploring. All the standard stuff. Dresses and tops, drawers full of panties and bras and other 'unmentionables.' I finally found what I was looking for. On a shelf, half a dozen pairs of jeans and what looked like five times that many T-shirts.

I found a pair of jeans I could squiggle into. They rode low on my hips, but I could deal with that. What I needed to figure out was the problem with 'junior and the twins.' What the hell, I dug out some simple cotton panties and pulled them on first. Problem resolved. The soft material actually felt nice on my crotch.

The T-shirts were an adventure. Whoever this girl was, she was obviously a teenager and very prissy. Cropped T's, all with stuff on them. Sayings like 'Daddy's little girl' and 'Princess', lots of glitter and sparkles and 'Hello Kitty.' I wondered just what Rick had gotten into since I'd seen him last, but common sense told me he'd never go there. There had to be a more logical, less disturbing explanation than daddy/sissy stuff.

I finally found one with a Hawaii logo on it and pulled it on. Dammit, there was about six inches between the bottom of the shirt and the top of the jeans. I had a nice flat tummy, even a bit of a six-pack, so it wasn't gross. It just wasn't masculine at all. Honestly, the way it teased with exposing my belly button was kind of cute.

I laughed. None of this was masculine. I was wearing panties with girls' jeans.

"I wonder..."

Back to the bathroom, I almost didn't want to look in the mirror. Dammit, I was cute. The outfit was adorable, sexy even. Turning and looking over my shoulder, fuck, I had a nice ass, too. I caught myself imagining what the girl in the mirror would look like with a little bangle in her belly button. All she really needs is boobs. Nothing big, just enough... No, that was too far. It also occurred to me that this was exactly what Beth was afraid of.

I borrowed a pair of socks and some plain white sneakers, too. It wasn't until I picked up my keys and my wallet that I realized I was going to need one more thing. I chose the small purse with the long shoulder strap.

All my nerves fired at once and my hand trembled as I opened the purse. What choice did I have? I dropped my stuff inside, took a massive breath, and stepped out the door to go find some food.

***

"Can you tell me how to get to McAlister's?" I took advantage of the guy I passed in the lobby, stopping to check me out.

"Um, sure. McAllister's. That's easy. Just down the street and around the corner." He may have been flustered, but I was terrified. This was ridiculous. Me; dressed like this, going out on the street in a neighborhood I didn't know.

"Left, or right?" Clenching my fists, digging my nails into my palms, trying to control the rising panic. Shit, I smiled at him.

"Um, yeah, sorry, yeah, left, then two blocks, then right. You can't miss it."

"Thanks. Maybe I'll see you again sometime." I turned and left him there. It took everything I had to not break into a full run back up the stairs and lock myself in Rick's apartment. I'd been hungry before. It wasn't going to kill me.

Why were my feet heading toward the door out to the street, and why was the smile still on my face?

"Hey." I hadn't even made it to the bottom of the stairs when he caught up with me. "I'm Mike. I'd like that. If we saw each other again." His face was beet red.

"Nice to meet you, Mike." I paused for a few seconds and it just came to me. "I'm Sophie."

Sophie? Who the hell is Sophie? Where did that come from?

I could feel Mike watching as I made my way to the bottom of the stairs. I even did the hopscotch squares some little girls had probably drawn on the sidewalk. That damned smile was still there.

I bought a lot more than I thought I would. Thankfully, McAllister's had a delivery service. I paid the extra ten bucks, or Rick did. It was his account, and headed back to the apartment, noshing on the sandwich I had picked up in their deli.

When I got back to the apartment, my clothes still weren't dry. I checked the filter. I checked the breakers in the apartment. Finally, I double checked the settings on the dryer. Dammit, 'Fluff no heat.' I had done all this to myself. I added the sheets from the bed and started it over again. What the hell?

There were just enough clothes in Rick's laundry basket to start another load, so I did that, too.

Quickly scanning the apartment, I smiled to myself. It felt good knowing what I had done. My mom would be proud. So would Beth. Maybe a little of Beth had rubbed off on me, somehow. It didn't even occur to me I had put my clothes away, too. Changing into them had never crossed my mind.

When did I get so domestic? My apartment at college had looked a lot like Rick's before I started cleaning. With the laundry all folded and put away, and Rick's bed made, I went to the kitchen and started on dinner. Rick was going to be home at 6. I wanted it to be ready when he got here. Never having been one to cook more than I had to, I was going to need some help. I pulled a well-worn binder of recipes from the pantry, picked one, and started cooking.

***

"Sam, you here?"

"In the kitchen. You want a beer? I went to McAllister's."

"Yeah, thanks. Damn, you were busy today. I brought Chinese."

"And I made some pork chops with cream gravy, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Your call." I came out of the kitchen and tried to hand him his beer. The look on his face was priceless.

"Um, you, you're wearing Tony's clothes."

"Had a minor argument with the dryer. It won. I needed something to wear to the store. This is what I could find that fit. So, you want this beer, or not?" I offered it to him again.

"You look, um... Sam, you look, well, I mean... Dammit Sam. You look hot as hell in those jeans and that top."

"Thanks. Going to the store was interesting. Some guy I saw in the lobby thinks my name is Sophie." I laughed. "I think I have a stalker."

"If you walked to McAlister's in that, probably more than one. Damn, I'm serious. If you had boobs, I'd..."

"If I had boobs, what? You'd what, fuck me? That's all I need." I laughed again. "I'm self-conscious enough already. So, you want Chinese or pork chops?"

The Chinese food went into the refrigerator.

"This, um, this is really good." Something was bothering Rick. "Where'd you get the recipe?"

"There was a recipe book in the pantry. It looked well used, so I thought I'd try something from it. I like pork chops. Why?"

"My ex, Paula. This was her favorite recipe to make. Those clothes are her daughter Tony's."

"Can I ask what happened?"

"Wrong place, wrong time. Drug deal gone bad or some bullshit like that. Random bullet caught Paula. She died on the way to the hospital. Tony recognized the shooter. Paula and I weren't married and there were cartel connections, so she's in witness protection. I lost everything that night."

"Rick, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'd never..."

"Sam, stop. It's ok. You cooking this recipe, you wearing Tony's clothes. It brings back all the best memories. I have to warn you, though. If you plan on wearing any more of Tony's stuff, well, she was not a shy girl. Drove her mom and me crazy; most of the boys in the neighborhood, too." The tears were there, but so was the smile. At least they were happy tears.

It didn't even click that me wearing his ex-girlfriend's daughter's clothes didn't bother him.

We ate in silence for a while. Rick got to clear the table and do the dishes. While he did that, I went and found something a little more comfortable. I didn't know where this was going, but I liked the way people treated me today, the way they looked at me. Something deep inside felt normal, like it was just right. It was that same feeling that didn't want me to cut my hair.

Besides, if wearing Tony's clothes gave Rick even a glimmer of happiness, it would be worth it. I had one pair of jeans, one T-shirt, one pair of boxers, a pair of socks, and my riding jacket and boots. It wasn't like I had a lot of options.

I kept the T-shirt, but traded the jeans for some loose-fitting floral print pants that hung down to my feet, kind of like very thin sweatpants. They hung on my hips, exposing even more of my tummy. What the hell, they were comfortable and wearing them was better than wearing just my boxers or the panties I still had on from earlier.

"So, what's your plan?" Rick was on the couch watching the Rangers and the Phillies slug it out. They were, too. The score was 13-11 in the fifth inning.

"It was to work my network back home and find a job. I guess I'll have to refactor a bit. The only person I know up here is you."

"I don't know. There may be alumni clubs up here. You went to a pretty decent school, after all. And maybe some of your contacts have contacts up here. Or you could just lie low for a while. Let whatever happened with your dad and Beth cool down. Then you could go home and work on your original plan."

"He didn't say anything when you called him?"

"Nope. I told him you were here. He said thanks and hug up."

"He didn't even try to stop me. Rick, I think I fucked up bad." All I could do was lean over on his shoulder and cry. I let it all out, sobbing uncontrollably until there were just no tears left.

"Beth and her damned rules. I'm not six. I'm an adult. Dammit, it's not just her house. It's mine, too. Or it used to be."