Itlan part two (i didnt write this...the ending is the best part)
She was crying. Her tears started your own. “No, no, it’s not your fault. It’s m…” “It’s his,” she said sharply, “And don’t you think anything else. You’re a perfectly lovely woman, I’m sure, it was pure chance that this awful thing happened to you, and you’re going to rise above it.” “Is that what happened to you?” You asked her, trying to wipe your tears away while they still flowed. “Yes, honey, that’s what happened to me.” “And… and…” You struggled to ask the question that you had called to ask. “And if you had a chance to do it all over again, would you…?” “Would I keep the baby?” You could hear her deciding what to say. “Yes, honey, I would. I know it’s not the answer you want to hear because you think he turned out awful, but I don’t think I could have gotten through it without him. He was the perfect child until…” “Thank you Ms. Johnson,”
you said, knowing now what you would do. “Honey, wait, don’t hang up just yet,” she said, and you paused. “If you think you want to, I’d love to talk to you anytime. We can have lunch or anything, if you want. Although I understand if it’s too much for you to…” “No, that’s a lovely offer, Ms. Johnson,” you say. “I… I’ll think it over.” And so started your unlikely friendship with the rapist’s mother. She helped you through everything - getting over the guilt, the pregnancy, the trial - at the end of which, Ilan was sentenced to only two years in prison because he admitted guilt - the birth of your baby boy, Addison, and raising him. “We’re going to raise this one the right way,” Marie said every time he came over, and you knew what she meant was that she was going to try to make up for
her son’s failures. But she was right in one respect - Addison did help you get through it. He was the sunshine of your day, the reason you got up in the morning. And the reason Marie got up too, as she was probably as badly wounded from the rape as you were. So you brought him over to her house at least five days a week over the course of his first two years of life. So it was just like any other day when you brought Addison over to the Johnson household, except today…
today you heard Marie yelling. Your first thought was that she was being robbed, so you didn’t knock, but instead tried the handle and let the door swing open. And once again found yourself frozen in the doorway. The reason for the yelling was apparent - Marie, face red with anger, was mid-way through yelling at her son, who was seated, looking at his hands, taking it all. Both of their heads turned to you as you opened the door, but you only saw one. His eyes still had that same torment that you had seen when your hand had flown to your stomach so long ago. And his eyes shifted slowly to the son he’d never met. The room was silent for felt like ages before he stood up. “I guess I’ll just go then,” he muttered, turning towards the back door so he didn’t have to pass you. “No, wait,” you said, not sure what was possessing you to say it. He turned to look at you again and your breath caught. “Daddy?” Addison mumbled from his place in your arms. You stared at Ilan for a moment longer before placing your son on the ground.
“Yeah, that’s Daddy,” you said quietly. And Ilan kept his eyes on you, wonderingly, until Addison hugged his leg, at which point he bent down as if being a father was the natural thing for him to do. “Are you crazy?” Marie whispered, pulling you aside. “He should not be…” “In my life, I know,” you whispered back. “But what if it was the father figure that was missing from his life that made him… What I’m saying is, if anything’s going to keep Addison from… it’s going to be him.” The older woman stared at you for the longest time, before shrugging and saying, “Well, he’s your kid. I hope you know what you’re doing.” And as you looked over at where Addison was happily glomping his dad, you had a feeling that you knew exactly what you were doing. But it wasn’t smooth sailing at first. Every time Ilan was around, you relived that awful day in your head. But the more time you spent around him
and the more Addison asked for him, the more comfortable you got. In fact, when Addison was four, you even decided to forgive Ilan, realizing that he had paid for what he had done, not only in jail time, but with the psychological torture he had endured ever since. You, Ilan and Addison were around each other constantly because, frankly, Addison wasn’t happy without his Dad around. So you and Ilan became tentative, if somewhat uncomfortable, friends, which slowly blossomed into a normal friendship. You refused to let Addison see Ilan for a few weeks when you realized that you had developed a crush on him, but when he came begging at your house to see his son again, you relented. But you didn’t think the relationship would go anywhere until the day Addison came home from a day in first grade and asked, “Dad? Why aren’t you and Mom married like other kid’s parents?” As Ilan struggled with how to answer that question, you couldn’t resist looking over at him and saying, “Yes, why aren’t we?” He looked at you and shock before that rarely seen smile that you had come to adore slowly spread over his face. “I don’t know… But we could fix that…?” You looked at him, weighing the pros and cons in your head.
“All right,” you finally said. And as you leaned into your first ever kiss with him, while your son eww-ed and Marie cheered from the other room, you couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps your path hadn’t been the smoothest, but it had ended up leading to the happy ending anyway.
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