Bourbon Nights - Shari J. Ryan Page 0,18

sitting with my phone waiting for notifications to pop up, so I’ll accept the request a little later. Does this cat-and-mouse game end at any age, or do men and women continue to play hard to get until the chase is over? I don’t even know what the rules are anymore. God knows, I’d be known as a social creep if I accepted a request within thirty seconds, but I’d be a jerk if I let it go a full day too.

I shouldn’t be concerned about a friend request of all things, yet, here I am, staring at Melody’s beautiful photo while Parker stands in front of me waiting for the snack I promised. “Who’s that?” Parker asks.

I hit the power button on my phone and drop it back into my pocket. “No one,” I tell her.

“Dad, who is she?”

“Parker,” I say with a laugh.

“She’s pretty. That’s all I wanted to say.” And with that, Parker twists around and heads for the kitchen with her nose in the air. At least I know my daughter is back to feeling like herself again.

6

I’m not sure if people plan their life out, assuming everything will happen in certain increments of time. If I had done that, I would have been better prepared when I had to take on responsibilities for another person. Then again, if I had planned out my life, I’m not sure I would have intended on becoming a father to a three-year-old at the age of twenty-four. I should have learned to take life’s unexpected twists and turns while being called for deployments with brief notice, but I’m not sure anyone is ever ready to be a parent, regardless of how it happens.

Yet, here I am, four years later, sitting in the hallway outside of Parker’s bedroom, waiting for her to fall asleep. God knows, I’m probably doing part of this wrong, but I hope I’m doing most of it right.

When I moved back home to Vermont, Parker was almost six. She understood enough to realize how drastically her life would change for the second time in two years. My eight years in the Marine Corps were up, and I needed family around to help me navigate this parenting life.

Parker has had a fear of the dark since she was four, old enough to imagine shadows moving across the walls at night, or dolls shifting around. I would lie in bed with her until she fell asleep each night, knowing I would have to stop before the habit became too hard for her to break.

I tried many times to leave a nightlight or the hall light on, but Parker would panic if I wasn’t nearby. Over the last year, I’ve moved one foot farther away from her bed every month, and hearing no complaints when I took a seat against the wall in the hallway where she can still see me, but I’m not so sure she needs me at my post anymore. For myself, I find comfort in the half-hour of sitting here, watching her fall asleep, knowing I’m doing everything possible to give her a peaceful night of sleep. There’s nowhere else to move now except away from her bedroom.

I’ll sit here until she closes the door in my face. After watching Brody with my niece, Hannah, his pre-teen daughter, I’m sure the day will come.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, finding the friend notification sitting right where I left it a few hours ago. I click accept and place the phone down onto my lap. I wonder what Melody will think when she finds out I have a daughter, or what she’ll assume. She might not care at all because I’m nothing more than a stranger passing through her life, but I have an inkling that might not be the case.

Then again, the last time I thought I was headed for more with Melody, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Seven Years Ago

She asked me to hold her hand when it was time. Abby wasn’t afraid of much, but the idea of an epidural and labor scared her more than the thought of a deployment to a combat zone. I can’t imagine how someone could go through childbirth alone without a hand to hold, so I agreed without a second thought.

Abby was in the most compromising, vulnerable position she would ever be in, and her hand was in mine. All I wanted to do was take the pain away. I was numb to the sights