It Ends with Us

‘Daddy? My boyfriend hit me.’
What would you
say to her, Ryle?”
He pulls Emerson to his chest and buries his face against the top of her
blanket. “Stop, Lily,” he begs.
I push myself up straighter on the bed. I place my hand on Emerson’s
back and try to get Ryle to look me in the eyes. “What if she came to you
and said, 
‘Daddy? My husband pushed me down the stairs. He said it was an
accident. What should I do?’
”
His shoulders begin to shake, and for the first time since the day I met
him, he has tears. Real tears that rush down his cheeks as he holds his
daughter tightly against him. I’m crying, too, but I keep going. For 
her
sake.
“What if . . .” My voice breaks. “What if she came to you and said, 
‘My
husband tried to rape me, Daddy. He held me down while I begged him to stop. But
he swears he’ll never do it again. What should I do, Daddy?’
”
He’s kissing her forehead, over and over, tears spilling down his face.
“What would you say to her, Ryle? Tell me. I need to know what you
would say to our daughter if the man she loves with all her heart ever hurts
her.”
A sob breaks from his chest. He leans toward me and wraps an arm
around me. “I would beg her to leave him,” he says through his tears. His
lips press desperately against my forehead and I can feel some of his tears
as they fall onto my cheeks. He moves his mouth to my ear and cradles
both of us against him. “I would tell her that she is worth 
so
much more.
And I would 
beg
her not to go back, no matter how much he loves her.
She’s worth so much more.”

---

We become a sobbing mess of tears and broken hearts and shattered
dreams. We hold each other. We hold our daughter. And as hard as this
choice is, we break the pattern before the pattern breaks us.
He hands her back to me and wipes his eyes. He stands up, still crying.
Still trying to catch his breath. In the last fifteen minutes, he lost the love
of his life. In the last fifteen minutes, he became a father to a beautiful
little girl.
That’s what fifteen minutes can do to a person. It can destroy them.
It can save them.
He points toward the hallway, letting me know he needs to go gather
himself. He’s sadder than I’ve ever seen him as he walks toward the door.
But I know he’ll thank me for this one day. I know the day will come when
he’ll understand that I made the right choice by his daughter.
When the door closes behind him, I look down at her. I know I’m not
giving her the life I dreamed for her. A home where she lives with both
parents who can love her and raise her together. But I don’t want her to
live like I lived. I don’t want her to see her father at his worst. I don’t want
her to see him when he loses his temper with me to the point that she no
longer recognizes him as her father. Because no matter how many good
moments she might share with Ryle throughout her lifetime, I know from
experience that it would only be the worst ones that stuck with her.
Cycles exist because they are excruciating to break. It takes an
astronomical amount of pain and courage to disrupt a familiar pattern.
Sometimes it seems easier to just keep running in the same familiar circles,
rather than facing the fear of jumping and possibly not landing on your
feet.
My mother went through it.
I
went through it.
I’ll be damned if I allow my daughter to go through it.
I kiss her on the forehead and make her a promise. “It stops here. With
me and you. It ends with us.”

---