Bourbon Nights - Shari J. Ryan Page 0,46

have it any other way.”

“Thank you,” Abby utters.

“Hey, we’re going to see you later, okay? No more tears. This isn’t goodbye,” I say. I’m not sure if I’m giving her peace of mind or trying to convince myself nothing will happen to her. I know better.

Abby breaks our stare and rests her cheek on Parker’s head. “You are a part of me, and I’m a part of you,” she says.

The other Marines are boarding the bus, and I know our time is up. Abby glances over her shoulder, knowing her job is calling. She pries Parker’s grip from her upper body and hands her over to me. Parker, who is normally the best behaved child I’ve ever seen, breaks into a tantrum, screaming, crying, kicking, and hitting. I’m holding her tightly, trying to soothe her so Abby doesn’t have to leave knowing how upset Parker is, but nothing I do seems to work.

“It’s okay,” Abby says. “She feels something she doesn’t understand, and the only way to cope is to cry. Don’t worry, she’ll be okay.”

Abby kisses Parker’s bobbing head once more and swings her pack onto her back, turning away quickly as a hitch bellows from her throat. I turn Parker to face the parking lot rather than the bus. I don’t want her to watch Abby leave. As the bus pulls away, I watch Abby’s hand press against the window above her seat. I wave in return, then see Parker’s hand wave too. She twisted around just in time to watch the bus leave. “Bye, mama,” Parker says calmly as if her ten-minute tantrum never happened.

“She’ll be back,” I tell her.

“No,” Parker says. “No more, Mama.”

“Talk to me, Parker. What are you feeling?” I ask, staring her straight in the eyes as we remain on the street in front of Melody’s house.

“I don’t feel anything,” she says. “Are you okay?”

“I am fine. This isn’t about me, and I know it’s not always true when you say you’re okay.”

“Do you think Mom knew she wasn’t coming back?”

I’ve gotten this question from Parker before, but she has asked it in different ways. I sometimes think she wonders if Abby is just lost somewhere and not really gone. “No, I don’t think she thought that way.” Except, when I relive that day, I am certain that something in Abby’s heart knew it was the end and she wasn’t coming back.

“Do you think if she knew, she would have still left?” Parker continues.

“Your mom didn’t have a choice. I’ve told you this. When you enlist in the military, you do as you are told, and if you don’t, you can get into a lot of trouble. It’s against the law not to follow orders.”

“I think she knew,” Parker says. “I could hear it in her voice the day she left. I just didn’t understand why she sounded different.”

I run my hand down the side of my face, wishing I could take away just a portion of her pain, but without bringing Abby back, there is no way for me to make things better aside from carrying on and being her dad. “I’m sorry you walked in on that conversation between Melody and me,” I tell her.

“Melody asked,” Parker states. “You answered.”

“I know it hurts when you hear the answer, though, and I try to keep the explanation to a minimum around you.”

“You don’t have to, Dad. The more I hear about Mom, the better. She’s a superhero, and I’m proud of her, so it’s good to tell people.”

“Not when it causes you pain,” I explain.

Parker looks down at her fingers and intertwines her hands, resting them on her lap. “You aren’t causing me pain. I just miss her.”

“I understand.” Parker stands up on the passenger seat and climbs into the back, hopping into her booster chair. Miss Independent. She buckles her seatbelt and informs me the discussion is over by staring out the opposite window. Her therapist said it was a coping mechanism, and while everyone has different ways of handling emotions, Parker can apparently walk herself through the steps of pain and grief until she reaches a checkpoint. She then shuts the thoughts off and returns to the current moment, almost as if unscathed. Talking through her feelings isn’t something she enjoys, so I do my best to work around this, letting nothing slip out. By the time we’re home, and she’s settled in bed, Parker appears level-headed and stable. She asks about lunch for tomorrow and requests almond butter and