she refuses to let me help in that way. She’s mentioned finding the biological father, hoping to get some assistance, but I was sure those thoughts were out of desperation, until she just confessed about finding the mystery man.
I wasn’t expecting this conversation, her tears, and disappointment. I’m still not sure how she found out who the guy was after not having a clue this whole time, but Abby can find just about anything when she puts her mind to it. We’ve determined she could have an amazing career in forensics once she’s out of the Marines.
“Anyway,” she says, falling back into the cushion of our couch. “He’s a jerk. He told me it was my fault for not finding him sooner, and he would have been against keeping her at all.”
A pit grows in my stomach, knowing another person could speak those words out loud. “I don’t know much about any of this, but I don’t think a one-night-stand-man could deny child support by saying he would have chosen to end the pregnancy or give the child away. You can take him to court, Abbs. Get a DNA test and start there.”
“He refused a DNA test. He said it was his right to say no. It’s not worth the fight. I’ll figure things out,” she says. Her words don’t match the look in her eyes. “The ironic part of all this is that he lives on base.”
“Here?” I ask. Jesus. I didn’t think he was a Marine, probably walking by us on a daily basis.
Abby shrugs and pulls an afghan around her shoulders. “You know, I was sitting here yesterday, thinking I’m going to have to delist in a couple of years because I can’t give Parker a sustainable life like this, but then I heard some talk today about a couple of upcoming deployments.” Abby had plans to retire from the Marines, but I understand why she’s thinking of alternatives now. Her eight years will be up two years before mine, which means she’ll need to make her decision within the next year. She’ll take Parker away and it will be like I never existed in either of their lives. I feel like we’re a family, minus the husband and wife part, and I continue falling deeper and deeper into this life, knowing there probably won’t be a good ending.
“Where did you hear about the deployments?”
“My Chief Warrant Officer. I’ll know more tomorrow. It’s not looking good, Brett. I haven’t gone anywhere since Parker was born. They aren’t going to skip over me forever.”
I can’t argue with the facts, and she won’t be able to argue with orders. Either of us or both of us could be called to go. Although, I just got back from a two-month stint eight months ago so I’m not sure where that puts me in line to be called.
We’ve discussed the possibility of deployments and what will happen with Parker, and Abby has a plan with her child-care provider to take Parker in full time, which means Carol, the caretaker, would more or less receive most of Abby’s deployment pay to care for Parker.
“I’m probably not going to be called. I haven’t heard anything,” I tell Abby. “If I don’t get called, Parker can stay with me if you have to go. I know we’ve talked about Carol and going that route, but I can find her if I end up having to deploy while you’re gone.”
“I’m not ready to leave Parker behind. The thought is killing me, Brett. If we both end up having to leave, it’ll be like she’s an orphan for God knows how long.”
“What’s the guy’s name, Abbs? Who is he … the biological—”
“Don’t call him anything,” she says, tightening the blanket around her shoulders as she rolls her head from side to side. “Dylan Stevens.”
“Okay,” I say, leaving it at that.
“Don’t go doing anything stupid, Brett.”
I hold my hands up in defense. “What could I do?” Other than choke him until he offers to assist in supporting Parker.
As if Parker heard me thinking of her name, a faint cry spills out of Abby’s bedroom where Parker sleeps. Abby closes her eyes for a moment, inhales sharply and pushes herself off the couch. “She’s got a cold. I saw it coming this morning.” Abby’s face is pale, her eyes have dark circles growing larger by the day and she has lost so much of her personality over the last few years. When I take note of how much