You can be mad at me, you can hit me, and you can take it out on me, but you cannot—and I will not let you—hold that mistake against me and what we have. I will not let you break up this relationship because of it.” His hands firmly held my arms, preventing me from turning away from him, preventing me from escaping the truth.
“My mom was raped, Brandon!” I screamed. I then gasped at my own admission.
“What?” Brandon’s grip on me loosened as he took in my words. “Why are you telling me this? Please, Emma. I don’t understand.”
My body shook— from the pain, from the grief over my mother, from the hatred over my father, and from the loss of Brandon. I knew there was no turning back now. I had to tell him everything.
“Can we please go back inside to talk about this ?”
I shook my head. “I need to tell you now before I change my mind.”
“Okay.” His worried eyes examined me as he guided me towards an awning in front of a closed shop. “Let’s get out of the rain at least.”
“ She was 19. He was a friend in college. My mom said that she was at a party of his and she had too much to drink. She had passed out at some point, and he raped her when she was unconscious. She never reported it because he said he would deny it. He threatened her. He said it would be a he-said-she-said, and he would smear her name and reputation in town if she said anything. Because he came from a prominent family in town, she knew he had the power to destroy her life and get away with it. I also think that she was ashamed to tell people—like somehow, it was her fault. Anyway, a few months later, my mom found out that she was pregnant.”
I paused and looked at Brandon. He was silent as he listened. Then I saw the look of understanding flash in his eyes.
“She kept the baby,” he whispered.
I nodded as I avoided his gaze.
“And that baby was you.”
“Yes,” I said somberly. This was the first time I’ve ever told anyone about my past—about the deep secret I was ashamed of. “I was the product of a rape,” I whispered.
Brandon looked stunned and unable to speak. I could tell he wasn’t sure how to react or what to say. I reached for his hands and held them, and he reacted by pulling me into his arms and held me protectively.
“I’m so sorry, Emma.”
I felt fresh , hot tears roll down my cheeks as I buried myself his hard chest. He felt warm and safe, and I felt the pang of losing him to Desiree—to the child.
I pulled away to look up at him. Although the shame of my past twisted inside me, a part of me felt a sense of freedom that my secret was out, and that it was Brandon who I told. He gave me a reassuring smile.
“My mom told the guy about being pregnant. He had promised to support us and to be there for me. But by the time I was born, he was in a serious relationship with another woman. He skipped town and denied being my father. My mom was devastated. Not because she love my father, but because she knew that she would need help raising me. And during most of her pregnancy, my father had promised her that money would not be an issue. So she was not prepared financially when I was born. She had to drop out of college to work two jobs to provide for us.”
I looked at Brandon. There was no pity on his face, just unadulterated concern and sadness, and I felt my feelings for this man deepen.
“I’ve never met my father,” I continued. “I don’t even know his name or what he looks like. I took my mom’s maiden name. My mom didn’t tell me what happened until I was 13. All my life before that point, I loved a father that I thought had passed away before I was born. When I found out the truth, I hated him. I hated him for abandoning my mom and me, I hated him for breaking his promise to support us. I told myself I would never allow someone to do that to another child if I had the power to prevent it.” My voice shook as I told my story, and I wiped the tears from my eyes.
I saw
“My mom was raped, Brandon!” I screamed. I then gasped at my own admission.
“What?” Brandon’s grip on me loosened as he took in my words. “Why are you telling me this? Please, Emma. I don’t understand.”
My body shook— from the pain, from the grief over my mother, from the hatred over my father, and from the loss of Brandon. I knew there was no turning back now. I had to tell him everything.
“Can we please go back inside to talk about this ?”
I shook my head. “I need to tell you now before I change my mind.”
“Okay.” His worried eyes examined me as he guided me towards an awning in front of a closed shop. “Let’s get out of the rain at least.”
“ She was 19. He was a friend in college. My mom said that she was at a party of his and she had too much to drink. She had passed out at some point, and he raped her when she was unconscious. She never reported it because he said he would deny it. He threatened her. He said it would be a he-said-she-said, and he would smear her name and reputation in town if she said anything. Because he came from a prominent family in town, she knew he had the power to destroy her life and get away with it. I also think that she was ashamed to tell people—like somehow, it was her fault. Anyway, a few months later, my mom found out that she was pregnant.”
I paused and looked at Brandon. He was silent as he listened. Then I saw the look of understanding flash in his eyes.
“She kept the baby,” he whispered.
I nodded as I avoided his gaze.
“And that baby was you.”
“Yes,” I said somberly. This was the first time I’ve ever told anyone about my past—about the deep secret I was ashamed of. “I was the product of a rape,” I whispered.
Brandon looked stunned and unable to speak. I could tell he wasn’t sure how to react or what to say. I reached for his hands and held them, and he reacted by pulling me into his arms and held me protectively.
“I’m so sorry, Emma.”
I felt fresh , hot tears roll down my cheeks as I buried myself his hard chest. He felt warm and safe, and I felt the pang of losing him to Desiree—to the child.
I pulled away to look up at him. Although the shame of my past twisted inside me, a part of me felt a sense of freedom that my secret was out, and that it was Brandon who I told. He gave me a reassuring smile.
“My mom told the guy about being pregnant. He had promised to support us and to be there for me. But by the time I was born, he was in a serious relationship with another woman. He skipped town and denied being my father. My mom was devastated. Not because she love my father, but because she knew that she would need help raising me. And during most of her pregnancy, my father had promised her that money would not be an issue. So she was not prepared financially when I was born. She had to drop out of college to work two jobs to provide for us.”
I looked at Brandon. There was no pity on his face, just unadulterated concern and sadness, and I felt my feelings for this man deepen.
“I’ve never met my father,” I continued. “I don’t even know his name or what he looks like. I took my mom’s maiden name. My mom didn’t tell me what happened until I was 13. All my life before that point, I loved a father that I thought had passed away before I was born. When I found out the truth, I hated him. I hated him for abandoning my mom and me, I hated him for breaking his promise to support us. I told myself I would never allow someone to do that to another child if I had the power to prevent it.” My voice shook as I told my story, and I wiped the tears from my eyes.
I saw
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