Backseat Secrets with My Stepdad

Scarlett

“Daddy, it’s coming!” I excitedly tugged at my stepfather’s hand and pointed into the distance when the trailer came into my view.

“Yes, after 2–hour waiting.” Mom mumbled, standing on the grass and swatting furiously at the mosquitoes biting her skin. Then she glanced at Alexander, “Agreeing to go camping with you was the worst decision I’ve ever made.”

I rolled my eyes, I swear this was the fifth time she’d complained today. Alexander loves camping and finally convinced Mom to join us, but who knew the car would break down halfway? And just like that, Mom was complaining that Alexander hadn’t checked the car properly before we left, while Alexander just stayed silent and solved the problem like usual.

“Mom come on, it’s not Daddy’s fault.” I adjusted the slightly crooked round–framed glasses on my nose and pouted.

She stared at me, arms folded, “You’re always his little defender!” I quickly ducked behind Alexander, my hands clutching the hem of his white t-shirt.

“Easy Scarlett, your mom’s not gonna eat you alive.” Alexander turned around, chuckled and ruffled my hair.

He was always this gentle, even when facing Mom’s anger.

I’d be lying if I was never jealous of my mom having such a charming man. As a basketball coach, Alexander was already 34, still looked young and handsome. Standing beside him felt safe, maybe it was because he has been the father figure for me since I turned six when he married mom.

He was too perfect.

When I was 7, he wiped my tears and stopped the bullies I was getting for having no father before he came.

When I was rejected by a bad boy I had gathered my courage to confess to, he held me in his arms and consoled me “Pretty girls don’t cry” and told me what was the true love.

He never skipped even one parent–teacher meeting.

He’d sit next to me for homework, patiently explaining the same stupid math problem three times without getting annoyed once.

And Mom… she was just always so busy.

Working as a nurse took up pretty much her whole life. She’d come home looking dead tired. Then she’d start complaining nonstop: her boss was awful, my room was a disaster, Dad’s food wasn’t even that good anyway.

That was pretty much every day.

“Hey,” Mom’s voice snapped me back, she greeted the trucker diver as he got down from the truck.

Alexander took my hand and led me over to greet the driver. The tow truck driver was a burly middle- aged guy. He walked up to us, politely tipped his cap and introduced himself as Benjamin from the tow truck company.

Alexander shook his hand, then confirmed with him about the current situation with our car and where we wanted to go.

Then within 10 minutes, Benjamin got our car secured on the flatbed. He gave everything one last check, gave his hands a satisfied clap, and nodded at us. “All set, car’s locked down tight. I can take you to the repair shop near your house.”

“Cool, then let’s go!” Mom said happily.

But Benjamin glanced at us, shrugging apologetically. “Sorry, my truck only seats three. Got a big toolbox taking up most of the back.”

I followed his gaze to the rear seat. Sure enough, the already cramped bench was dominated by a huge metal toolbox laid across it, crammed alongside a jumble of repair gear. It was jamed. The space left could barely fit one person.

“Scarlett can sit on Alexander’s lap in the back seat. It’s just less than three–hour journey after all” mom replied dismissively.

“Mom!”

“What?”

“Why can’t you hold me in the backseat while Daddy sits in the front?” I countered with a deep frown. Mom shot me a warning look and was about to nag me when Alexander stepped in.

“Scarlett is right. I’m tall anyway. I can take the front seat.” He was six feet two inches tall, really does need a seat all to himself.

Mom shook her head immediately, “No way. I get carsick in the back. I have to sit up front with the window open to get some fresh air.”

Alexander pursed his lips, giving me a helpless look. “Guess we’ll just have to tough it out, then?”