My New Wife and Her Four Kids Moved In—The Next Day, I Walked Into the House and Froze

One thing I assured my daughter was that things would not change with the entry of my new wife and her children. Yet with less than 24 hours of their arrival, I opened the front door, saw the face of my daughter… and everything froze. Somewhere along the line something had gone wrong. I guess I did not know how wrong until I dashed in.

I Johnny am 45 years old, and the one thing in this life that I am serious about is taking care of my daughter, Stephanie. Her mom passed away 10 years ago because of cancer, and I have been her dad, mom, and best friend.

Stephanie is 14; she has been staying in one of the two large rooms in this house with an attached bathroom since she was seven. It has a sunny bay window, the Boho curtains her mother always liked are still on the window, and it has the only other private bath except mine.

I was promising my daughter that room was her own, as long as she wanted it… and that some day, the entire house would belong to her, also.

When, therefore, I became engaged to Ella, my three-year girlfriend, and she told me that her landlord had increased the rent, the relocation became sensible. Well, kind of. She has four children, two daughters, one of whom is 13, and the other is 10, and two sons, one of whom is 11, and the other is 9.

I believe we could work it out. I floated the arrangement past Stephanie first, informed her that she would retain her room, that she would have a lock on the door, and that she would have complete control of her living area.

…as long as I have my room, my bath, and they do not mess with my toaster oven… I am cool, my daughter nodded smilingly.

I believe we were good. But Ella, when I put it to her, hesitated a moment too long.

That… that is not quite fair, Johnny. And do you not think it ought to be a common house and not a shrine?

“Shrine? It’s the room of my daughter, Ella. She had been there ahead of you. And nor is she going away.”

Ella huffed. It seems to me just common sense that my girls should have the larger room… with the bath. It is two of them. It is only… space math.”

It is not math. It’s respect. The girls are receiving an upgrade already. Stephanie sacrificed her studio to them.

basement. “She can do art down here.

I shrugged my head. It is not a negotiation. She is given her room. She receives her lock. She also receives the car at 16 when I am not shifting goalposts.

Ella folded her arms. You are treating her like a rotten little princess.

I stared her right in the eye. Then I am her royal guard. And you know, if you move in with me, there have to be a few boundaries… beginning with my daughter’s.

Ella made no resistance thenceforth. At least not openly.

Very well, she thought. plication: It is your house.

Now it is our house, Ella. I said, Corrected her.

And so last night, at seven oclock punctually, she appeared, in a moving van, with four bleary-eyed children following her like ducklings. Ella was gorgeous in that carefree way that some women over 35 had mastered; blonde hair that was always artfully dishevelled and clothes that were expensive-looking, though perhaps not actually expensive.

“Johnny!” She embraced me and I smelt the perfume she wore.

The children were all huddled around us–Mia and Grace, 13 and ten, both with the pale skin of their mother; and then the boys, Tyler and Sam, eleven and nine, both dark-haired and diffident.

Stephanie stood in the door way holding the door as if it were a suit of armor.

“Evening!” she saluted gently.

“Oh, Stephanie!” Ella spoke in a higher tone. We will have such a good time living together. Just as a great big family!”

The children did not say a word. Stephanie nodded her head in a polite way and I saw the flash of doubt in her eyes.

Why not you give everybody a tour around as the movers commence their work? I suggested.

In fact, Ella broke in, I believe I had better do the room assignment. She knows the needs of her children better.”

I curlled up my stomach. Well, wew talked about it, Ella. Stephanie will have her room, the girls will have the studio, and the boys will have the old room of my son.”

Right, naturally. However her smile failed to enter her eyes. “Silly me.”

At night the boxes were heaped in every passage. The children circled about like guests in a hotel, all not quite knowing where to be. Stephanie excused herself and went to her room early, said she had homework.

I said to Ella as we fell on the couch, “This will need some getting used to.”

“Mmm.” She was scrolling through her phone and was hardly listening. Johnny, regards the room situation…

What of it?

Is it not so much unfair that Stephanie has the largest room to herself with the attached bathroom? My girls have been sharing small rooms since they were born.”

the same old familiar knot in my chest. At this we discussed. That was the bargain.

But you went and struck the bargain without me. I must be able to influence the life of my children.”

It is my house, Ella. Here is the house of Stephanie. I guess we want to accommodate your family, yet the fundamental arrangement is not subject to discussion.”

She fell silent, then, though I could feel the heat of her anger through the cushions between us.

In this place she plays at being a princess, eh?

Last night we were too tired to unpack or quarrel. Ella replied we would take it up in the morning. I had an early client meeting and was going to take the second half of the day off to assist. I even got a cake to celebrate on my way home.

However, as soon as I opened the door, I noticed that something was wrong.

Stephanie was sitting on the couch with her knees up to her face and her face was blotchy. She stared up at me with those eyes as though she was five years old, when she scraped her knee falling off her bike.

The cake box fell out of my hands. “Steph?” I hurried up. what Wild thing, what happened?

She was gazing up at me with these brown eyes so like her mother in every way, only now flooded with a pain I had not seen since the funeral of her mother. Dad, she turned me. she had my things all February down in the basement.”

I froze. “WHAT??”

I just got back from piano lesson and Mia and grace are in my room. Dad, they had my clothes on. My jewelry. They were jumping on the quilt of Mom. So much noise were they making.”

I hurryed down to the basement and turned sick. The belongings of Stephanie were all over the place. Her art supplies, her books, even the lamp she had created with her mom had been thrown in a heap as though they were not important… as though she was not important.

I dashed up stairs. The door of the room where Stephanie was staying was open and within the room, there was a chaos. Strange garments tumbled out of the dressing-drawers. I did not know what to call the makeup that was scattered over the old vanity that belonged to her mother.

The bay window seat where Stephanie again loved to read was lost beneath weird pillows and stuffed animals.

What in the devil is this?

Mia and Grace gasped in the middle of their giggle when they realized they were not alone. Mia, the elder, chin-up in defiance.

Mom explained that this was our room. She said, Stephanie must share.”

I went to the kitchen to find Ella cleaning the dishes as though nothing was wrong.

“Ella. We got to talk. Now.”

She did not even raise her eyes. Stephanie, I have already told you, in case it is about the rooms. My girls should have a good place as well. That is not right that one child should have everything and the other children get nothing.”

You have just moved the stuff of my daughter to the basement without my permission.

Yes; I took them to her new room. The room there is quite sufficient.”

“Adequate? You threw her art materials away as rubbish. The jewelry box of her mother is lying on the concrete floor beside the water heater.”

Your daughter has to be taught that she is no longer the center of the universe. We are a blended family now and that involves compromises.”😊😊

The family room became crowded – the four kids of Ella gathered around her as though she were the one who needed protection. Stephanie was sitting aside and quietly crying.

Sit down, I said, to everybody. We will straighten this out.

Ella started, “Johnny, you are overreacting.”

“Am I? As it appears to me that you waited until you saw me come out, and then you scared my daughter in her own house.

I did not do so. I just did room assignments that are more practical to all.”

“Room arrangements? Is that what you term as throwing a dead mother of my daughter stuff on a floor in the basement?

Ella flushed violently. How can you mention that? I lost my husband as well. I recognize the appearance of grief.”

And how can you be so mean then?

Suddenly the 11-year-old kid, Tyler, piped up. but, Mom, you said we would be fair to everyone.

We are being reasonable, baby. However, equality is not always fair.”

It does, in this house! I snapped.

What followed was like an implosion of the life of another person to watch. Ella began to cry — great theatrical tears that were really more of an act than agony.

I can not believe that you are going to HER instead of me! Over us! We are meant to be a family!

We should have been. But this is not how families treat each other.

I went over to the mantel-piece and took the engagement-ring off my finger — one of those hurried romantic symptoms which had seemed so large at the time. I held it out to her, gold beautiful in the afternoon light.