Vignette #110: Ian

He was finally asleep. Ian found himself just sitting by the boy’s bedside a lot, just watching him breathe. He seemed to be doing fine, but Ian knew how easy it was to convince people of that. Ian pulled the comforter up around Ronnie’s shoulders and kissed his forehead. He double-checked to make sure the cat was curled up with him and shut the bedroom door.

The doctors assured Ian that Ronnie was doing well. Examinations and private sessions had led to the conclusion that the sexual abuse had not been re-current. Other than the one trauma, Ronnie had a happy, healthy childhood. When the doctors told Ian that, he burst into tears of relief.

It had been hard enough for Ian to live with himself knowing he’d given his son away. The thought that he’d condemned him to a childhood of perverted abuse would have been more than he could have handled. He’d already lived it. Having had his son repeat history would have broken him completely.

But why just then? Why would Kyle Osbourne suddenly, for no apparent reason, turn like that? Especially knowing that he would be caught any moment? It didn’t make sense. Was it Ian’s sudden presence?

Ian couldn’t shake the questions out of his head, and it was really the last thing he needed to concentrate on. Maybe he should call Sparky, and get her to do a little private investigating for him. Then maybe he could lose the feeling there was something he was missing and concentrate solely on his son.

His son. He still wasn’t used to even letting himself think that. He was a father now, and not just in his head, in his heart. It was a physical fact.

Ronnie would come pouncing on his bed at the crack of dawn. He’d smile and chat and giggle all through breakfast, kiss and hug him before he went to work and be a subconscious vision of comfort knowing that when he opened up the door, Ronnie would still be there, the word “Papa” falling constantly from his lips.

But Ian knew Ronnie had a secret. Ian kept so many, he knew when someone had one they couldn’t bear to share. Ronnie, for lack of a better term, hadn’t landed yet. He was faking it well.

They’d made it easy; a big house, lots of people spinning around him distracting him with a brand new happy life. Ronnie hadn’t had a chance to be sad. He hadn’t mourned. He went straight from terror to peace, with no natural progression.

There was nothing left of what he lost to help him. The child had nothing left of it, but that stupid cat and a pair of underpants. The rest had gone up in smoke or was blown to tiny unrecognizable fragments.

Ian hoped that when Reese arrived tomorrow, they had found a few things, even if just trinkets. He knew how important that was for a man who was once a child who had nothing, not even love. Ian knew it was essential to a child who had had it all simply because he was loved and then had it all go kaboom.

He chided himself. He had to stop thinking that he was never loved as a child. He’d had a session with a doctor himself. He didn’t know that it was going to open the door to eternal ya ya, but it would if nothing else make him feel like he was trying.

It wasn’t fair to say he had never been loved. There was Taylor, Taylor with whom he made that beautiful, perfect little energy ball finally unplugged for the night in his room. There was Jude, the man who made him feel safe, encouraged him and made sure he knew that there was more to life than kicks in the stomach, taunts from bullies and trembling in fear.

And Aunt Hil…Ian smiled sadly. Hilary Johnston, the one person in the world that made him live, sometimes even if it was just a good swift lick in the rump. Whether it was making sure he could feed himself, to making sure the bones weren’t broken and the cuts didn’t get infected, to grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him until he took a breath, ready to fight again.

She was gone. It hurt in so many ways. Much like Ronnie, he had gone from burying the woman who kept him struggling to breathe to being a father with no natural progression. He needed her now, more than ever. How was he going to be able to do this without her? Who was going to lovingly knock the fight back into him when he was ready to give up?

The irony of it all wasn’t wasted on him. He’d begged for so long for his past to disappear. Now that he buried it with Hilary Johnston, he wasn’t sure how to even get through the day. It made him want to laugh until he choked to death with tears.

“Hey, Baby Doll.” Tippy said quietly.

Ian was suddenly found himself sitting on the balcony staring at the stars.

“Didn’t mean to startle you. I saw you sitting there and thought I’d just sit with you. Is that okay?”

Ian nodded his head and started to put out his cigarette. Tippy grabbed his hand. “Go ahead.”

He smiled. “I thought you went home.”

“I did.”

“You forget something?”

She shook her head. “Just checking on ya.”

“Ronnie’s fine, sleeping away.”

“I know, darlin’.” Tippy smiled, then took his hand and held it. “He’s not the only boy in the world that needs some one to peek in on him once and a while.”

She turned and looked at the same stars Ian was looking at. She looked at the sky and squeezed his hand, just let to him know the tears now falling silently down his face were all part of the natural progression.