Today I had
lunch with my ex-
stepdaughter, Iana. (Family relationships are so
complicated these days!) I hadn't seen her in
ages, even though she lives
only 6 or 7 blocks from my office. I'm trying to think... was it last
Christmas that I
saw her last? She moved out, and in with her
mom, in May of 1999. In October, 1999,
her
dad, my
husband of
nine years, left me. I still see him all the time.
Despite the fact that, truly,
he done me wrong, we are still close, but only in a
fellow traveller sort of sense. Iana has kept her distance.
I was afraid it would be awkward. I was afraid she would bring a friend, and use
her friend's presence as a way to avoid interacting with me. With dread, I saw her
walking up with her mom. I get along OK with her mom (after all, we're members of the
same club), but when she's around she controls the interaction.
Mom was just here for handoff. Whew!
I forked over the Christmas present -- Massive Attack's Mezzanine and a dramatic
little cloth purse I saw in St. John that I thought she would like.
We talked about friends, relationships, learning to drive; we ate pizza. It was
only 30 minutes, but it was just me and her, shooting the shit, not much awkwardness,
and even a fair amount of eye contact. More than you might expect from a 15-year-old.
I am glad to get to see her. I miss her. And it makes me happy to see that she is
doing well.