Gabby_ A Story of Courage and Hope - Alison Hanson [71]
Gabby understood their reluctance about building a relationship with her. She was the stepmother, arriving in the girls’ lives after their mom and I had divorced. The divorce was amicable, but the girls didn’t need or want another mother figure. It’s a familiar story, of course, after a parent remarries.
I understood how everyone was feeling. It was hard for Gabby. It was hard for Claudia and Claire. It was hard for me.
I’d let the girls know that Gabby truly wanted to reach out to them. She was determined. “There’s nobody on the planet who asks about you more than Gabby does,” I’d tell them. “She asks about your school-work, your friends, your activities. She’s always asking.”
The girls would just shrug when I said that.
As they saw it, Gabby was busy with her career. She didn’t live in Houston or visit very often. How truly interested in their lives could she be? And because I’d travel to Tucson or Washington to be with Gabby, she was responsible for taking me away from the girls, who split their time between me and my ex.
The events on January 8 changed everything.
The girls were shaken up by the sheer violence of that day: six people dead, thirteen injured. It pained them to see me so distraught and emotional, especially early on. And they also felt great regret about their dealings with Gabby. They desperately wished they’d been more willing to give her a chance, but she was in a coma, unable to understand or acknowledge their apologies.
Once Gabby started to heal and was more aware of her surroundings, the positive changes in the girls’ interactions with her were so pronounced that Gabby didn’t know what to make of them. She couldn’t articulate her thoughts, but sometimes she and I would make eye contact. Her look said it all, as if she had stepped into an alternate stepdaughter universe.
As Gabby improved, she recognized that Claudia, sixteen, and Claire, fourteen, were trying hard to make up for lost time. But Gabby was in a different place, unable to talk to them about much of anything, feeling vulnerable and helpless, struggling with so many emotions. She still yearned for a child of her own, and knew that dream was now unlikely, given her injuries. She wondered if my kids had changed only because they felt sorry for her. In truth, their newfound affection and empathy made her uncomfortable. I sometimes had to ask the kids to back off, and that request, though carefully delivered, was hurtful to them.
Meanwhile, through it all, Claudia kept in her purse a folded-up piece of paper that she read to herself several times a day. She wondered if she’d ever find the right moment, or the courage, to read it aloud to Gabby.
Just as some employees at El Campo Tire didn’t know what to make of Gabby’s cheerful personality, neither did my kids. Claudia was especially suspicious.
She used to keep her thoughts to herself. But after January 8, she talked through her feelings. “I always thought Gabby was fake,” she admitted. “She was so animated. No matter what you’d tell her, she’d have this warm smile on her face the entire time. I never knew if it was real.”
As Claudia reached her teens, she almost never initiated a conversation with Gabby. If Gabby asked her something, she’d give a short, basic reply. Otherwise, she kept her stepmother at arm’s length.
The girls were busy with school, friends, sports, and cheerleading. Gabby would ask them questions about their activities. Often it seemed they were answering only out of obligation.
But Gabby was always looking for common ground. When Claudia said she was considering a run for student council president in eighth grade, Gabby lit up and immediately offered advice for the campaign.
“You should run,” Gabby said. “You’d be great!”
“I don’t know,” Claudia answered.
“You’ll need to get your name out there. Tell everyone