Opium and Gardenias

My older sister Rina and I have had my Stepmom Dee Dee since I was wee; about four or five hears old, so that's over thirty years now.
I remember feeling a lot of mixed emotions about her. I was of course in a bit of a rivalry with her; seeing as she and her daughter, my new stepsister lived with my Dad, and I never had. If Rina and I wanted to just come over to spend time with Dad, it had to be well thought out and arranged in advance. When we tried to just call to see about an impromptu visit, it usually boiled down to whether Dee Dee had a a lot of papers to grade, or some other reason that always seemed to lead to her deciding if we'd have a fun day or weekend full of swimming in the pool, barbequing under the apartment stairs, seeing a movie, eating in a restaurant (El Coyote, The Old Spaghetti or Don the Beach Comber to name a few), playing endless games of "doggies look for food" "my kids are so lousy" or "help, the couch is eating me" with my stepsister - OR my sister and I staying in our apartment with my Mother and listening to her go on and on about how awful my Dad and Dee Dee were.

I can recall once going to the movies with them and Dad would need the aisle seat since he is a giant man of over six feet and needed the leg room. I jockeyed for the only seat next to him, and my Stepmom put the kabosh on that quick. She pointed out that with the hours he worked, she didn't see him very often either and took her place next to him. I pouted while I ate my flicks from a golden cylindar and elbow fought with my sisters for use of the armrests.

I was also fascinated by her. For many years she taught high school drama so once or twice a year there were exquisite shows that she directed to attend. We'd get dressed up in our ruffly Gunnie Sax dresses and Dad would drive us all the way out to Hacienda Heights in his yellow Toyota Corona for closing night. Because it was closing night, he'd remove from the refrigerator a beautiful and delicate gardenia corsage (Dee Dee's very favorite flower) in a clear plastic box that he'd place on the seat next to him. The box protected that gardenia from the warm air and our curious fingers; both of which he told us, would turn it brown.

Once we arrived at the little theater, we'd take our seats and get many smiles and were told by the student body how lucky we were to have Dee Dee as our Mom. The curtain would go up and I'd sit in my seat transfixed; drinking in the scent of the smoke machine and listening to the OLD high schoolers recite endless and fanciful lines from Dracula, Tartuffe, The Haunting of Hill House, Blythe Spirit and so many others. At the end of the show, after their bows, her cast would stand at the edge of the stage applauding her with their arms stretched out toward her in complete admiration and tribute.

Like the gardenias that Dee Dee loves, I remember her in those days being very fancy. One of my favorite things to do when I'd come visit on a pre-arranged weekend or holiday was spend time in her bathroom. It was simply magical in there and always had the lingering scent of the Opium spray that she used to perfume herself. On the walls there were Fiorucci ads in frames, pictures of faeries and an old timey red tray with an original coke ad on it.

Dee Dee had drawers and drawers packed with Chanel lipsticks and glosses, Yves Saint Laurent eye shadow kits in every frosty color of the rainbow (not to mention golds, bronzes and silvers), loads of makeup brushes and ornamental hair clips and combs. Dee Dee also had a packet of temporary tattoos that we girls would sneak into and apply to our arms, hands and faces. They were things like half moons, planets, stars and all things cosmic.

Once a year, for Halloween, we were able to get one-on-one makeup time with Dee Dee and her professional gear. One year I was thrilled to be transformed into a particularly effective Jellicale cat.

Dee Dee had a great sense of fashion too. If it was in style, she was wearing it; socks and heels, Norma Kamali, the "rags" look - all of it.
There was a period where she sewed too. My two sisters and I would reap the benefits of matching dresses (with handbags!) and gauze outifts with our spirit animal decaled onto the front. I think mine was a bird, Rina had a dolphin and my stepsister was assigned a penguin. I don't know why that was, but she did love to talk about Los Angeles Dodger Ron Cey (aka "The Penguin") more than your average 7 year old girl probably did.

Christmases were the best! Dee Dee would outfit us (of course) in lovely new dresses and make a delicious traditional dinner presented on elegant matching platters, serving dishes and plates that were cream colored with vines and plums painted on them.
We'd spend hours opening our presents. Each gift was carefully wrapped in assorted whimsical papers; all with matching tags signed by Santa, Mrs. Claus, Rudolph, The Sugar Plum Fairy, my stepsister's "Friend the Mouse", Jack Frost; the list goes on. Funny, the penmanship of all these holiday friends was the exact unmistakable style as Dee Dee's; which by the way could be sold as a computer font it's so beautiful.

For as much as I always saw her as a competitor for my father's attention, I realize now that during those years, she did in fact consider me a daughter. I on the other hand, used the word Stepmom whenever referring to her in conversation growing up. How else does a little girl whose parents have been divorced ever since she can remember refer to her Father's wife? Especially when her Mother remained imbittered over the demise of her marriage and all that that implicates?

A few years ago, my Mother and I became estranged for reasons that would take up way too much space and time to even begin in this blog entry, and yet through the years, I grew closer to Dee Dee. I began to really see that through it all, even during times that would alternate between being hard for me or for her, she had been a consistant figure in my life and loved me like I was her own. It became easy to talk with her, to have a great time buying her gifts that she might enjoy for Christmas or her Birthday, and looked forward to sharing good news with her when it happened, and be glad it was her who broke it to me when there was sad news to report, like when we lost my beloved Grandma Joyce.

...I had gone to Kauai by myself to see one of my best friends get married in October of 2003. It was just two months before my own wedding and I was busying myself looking through a bridal magazine on the plane ride home. It was a wonderful time for me for obvious reasons, but also a little melancholy because I hadn't spoken to my own Mother in a year at that point, and would be getting married without what one would expect to be the norm; both parents in attendance (even if they were seated across the room from one another as they were at my sister's wedding).

There was an older gal in the seat next to me who noticed that I was flipping through the magazine and said "Ohhhhhh, are you getting married honey?"
"Yes." I said and smiled at her. "Well! Your mother must be so excited."
My smile twitched slightly and my heart felt heavy and oddly damp; the way it does when your next breath might push some tears out of your eyes.
I took a breath, closed my eyes for just a moment, and pictured Dee Dee; so thrilled during this amazing time, and genuinely happy for me and my fiance.
I opened my eyes and said without another moment's pause,
"Yes. She sure is."

At my wedding there she was. In the front row. Smiling. Weeping. Beaming.
And all with a beautiful gardenia pinned next to her heart.