“Alex’s father left for good when he was eighteen months old. I...

“Alex’s father left for good when he was eighteen months old. I was doing the single mother stuff. Working at a daycare. Home all the time. Trying to be a really great mom while also trying to fix myself. I remember the first Christmas I spent alone. I was finally in a good place. I was still hurting, but I didn’t want him back anymore. And that New Year’s Eve was the first time I met Jose. He was a friend of my brother’s. We started talking every day. He’d come over for dinner. I think he was tentative around Alex at first. He’d get on the floor and try playing with him, but Alex couldn’t speak yet. So there wasn’t much of a bond. Then the ‘terrible twos’ came. And Alex would throw a lot of tantrums. Jose hadn’t been around kids before, and he didn’t want to overstep. I think he was unsure of his role. But after he decided to move in with us, I told him: ‘I want you to make more of an effort with Alex. He’s part of me.’ And that’s exactly what he did. He didn’t always know exactly what to do. But he brought home diapers and milk, even when nobody asked. He played cops and robbers, and nerf guns, and video games. He came to the parent teacher conferences. That year our whole family went to the Christmas play at Alex’s school. And after the performance, when everyone was taking pictures, a classmate asked Alex where his dad was. And he pointed at Jose. I was the only one who saw it. But when I told Jose later, I could tell that it affected him. Alex still believes that Jose is his dad. And I’m dreading when I have to tell him the truth. They’re so attached to each other. Jose is not the most emotional guy. But whenever Alex asks for a hug or a kiss, he’ll always give it to him. Even if it’s twenty times a day. He’s always saying: ‘I love you too, Papa.’ That’s just how he is. He reciprocates. He’s rarely the first one to express his emotions. But a few months ago we were having breakfast. And somehow Alex found a picture of me holding him at the hospital, right after he was born. He carried it over to Jose, and asked: ‘Where are you? Did you take this picture?’ Jose looked at it, and he started crying. Then he said: ‘Yes, Papa. I did.’”