Nine years ago, after Leo had died, people said to me, “I never knew he was your stepfather.” You see, I never called him that. At first, he was no one special in my life. Then he became my friend. In time, I felt he was my father too.
Leo married my mother when I was 11; two years later we moved into a house in a new suburban2 development. At first, our lawn was just a mud pile with a few untidy clumps3 of grass, but Leo saw bright possibilities. “Your mother wants flowers; she can plant them here, where there's lots of sun,” he said, “We'll plant trees over there, to give us shade. And in the backyard, I'd like a barbecue4.” Then he smiled. “After so many years of apartment living, now we can have cookouts!”
For years Leo had lived in an apartment by himself, and now he was putting down roots in the suburb. At first our split-level5 house resembled6 all the others, but then it began to change. Little touches—my mother's flower garden, Leo's trees—made our house unique. More important, a real family was forming within this house, with its own special traditions. Leo was becoming a full-time parent, and I was learning what it meant to have a father.
Weekday mornings when the weather was bad, Leo often drove me to school. Having a father drop you off may have been taken for granted, but I always thought it was wonderful. Saturday mornings, we went to the hardware store7, then browsed8 in the five-and-ten9, buying a sports magazine for my brother and something for me. Later, during dinner, Leo would tell us stories about his job and we'd talk about our friendship and schoolwork. “If you need any help, just ask me,” he would say. “But I doubt that you need it. You two are awfully smart.”
Some people might think that doing errands10 and eating meals together are nothing special, but I, who had previously11 spent my childhood watching other families do these everyday activities, savored12 them now with intense delight. Looking back, I realize that Leo gave me what I needed most—the experience of doing ordinary things together as a family.
One day, we learned that my “real” father—who hadn't seen or supported my brother or me for more than five years—wanted to see us again, on a regular basis. We remembered too well the early years we had spent with him. He had been angry and cruel, violent and unloving. Since my brother was then 17 years old, he didn't have to follow family-court stipulations13. But because I was still a “minor”, I had to meet with the judge.
When Leo, my mother, and I entered the courtroom, my “real” father was already present. I avoided his glance and told the judge I was part of a new family now, and that Leo taught me how to make things, that he always listened to me and never raised his voice. I said I didn't want to see my “real” father any more because he had never shown any love for me or even much attention.
The judge looked at Leo. “How are things going?” he asked.
“They couldn't be better, ”Leo answered. “I'm a lucky man to have such a family.”
My “real” father's visitation14 request was denied that day; he was out of my life, and I was deeply relieved. I also knew Leo had become my dearest friend.
Aren't the best parents also good friends to their children, accepting them without reservation15 and telling them they can be counted on16? Step families aren't bound17 by traditional ties, so the love and friendship they develop is extremely precious18. Was Leo “perfect”? He'd deny it if I said so. And that's one reason why he was so “perfect” to me.
Sometimes, during the first years my new family lived together, I'd look out my bedroom window on warm summer night and see Leo and my mother in front of our house. Together they'd walk. My parents, I would think. I actually have two parents.
Soon after we moved to the suburb, one of our new neighbors introduced herself to me. She had already met my mother and Leo. “You know,” she remarked, “you look just like your father.”
I knew she was just making conversation—but even so...
“Thank you,” I said.
Why tell her anything different?
当利奥、妈妈和我走进法庭时，我那“亲”爸爸已经在那里了。我避开了他的目光，告诉法官说我已经是新家庭的一员了。我说，利奥教我怎样制作东西，带我看电影，帮我做作业。他总是顺从我的意思，连跟我说话都从没粗声过。我告诉法官我不想再见到我的“亲”爸爸，因为他从未关爱过我，甚至从未注意过我。
法官望着利奥，问，“这是怎么回事？”
“我们现在过着最幸福的生活，”利奥回答说，“有这么一个家，我觉得很幸运。”
那天我的“亲”爸爸没有达到要求，他离开了我的生活，我感到极大的轻松。同时我也感到利奥就是我最亲爱的朋友。
最好的父母难道不能成为孩子们的好朋友，毫无保留地接受他们并且告诉他们父母是可以依赖的吗？重组家庭因为不是按旧有方式联结的，因而家庭成员之间所建立的友爱和情谊就显得分外珍贵。利奥是个“完人”吗？我这么说时，他总是否认。这正是他在我心中总是那么“完美”的原因之一。
在新家庭成员生活在一起的头几年里，我有时在夏夜透过卧室的窗子，看到利奥和我的妈妈一起在房子前面散步。我总是暗想：我有父母亲。我确实生活在双亲家庭里。
我们搬到郊区不久，我的一个新邻居自我介绍，说她已经见过我妈妈和利奥。“你看，”她评论说，“你看上去就像你的父亲。”
我知道她只不过是想搭话——但即使这样……
“谢谢你，”我说。
我何必去解释（继父与生父）有什么不同呢？
1． stepfather继父
2． suburban a．郊区的
3． clump n．土块
4． barbecue n．吃烧烤肉的野餐
5． split－level adj．错层式的（房子）
6． resemble v．像，类似
7． hardware store五金店
8． browse [brauz] v．浏览
9． five－and－ten杂货店， 源自five－and－ten－cent－store
10．errand n．差使，跑腿
11．previously adv．先前，以前
12．savor v．尝到（闻到）
13．stipulation n．条款
14．visitation n．访问，探望
15．reservation n．保留
16．count on指望，依赖
17．bound [baund]为bind [baind]（绑，束缚）之过去分词
18．precious a．贵重的，珍爱的