I signed my life away. I thought I got it back when I was discharged from the Marines, but I see now, it was a forever commitment.
24
Melody must feellike she’s looking at a stranger in the house. We’re both sitting on the couch, facing each other, but I have said very little because Parker is brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed.
“I’ll be right back. I’m going to go check on Parker,” I say.
I catch her as she is stepping out of the bathroom across the hall from her bedroom. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says. “Are you okay?”
“I will be.” I hope I’m not telling her a lie.
“Does Melody know about the bad dreams you used to have? Or about that time at the parade in town?”
I shake my head, feeling as though I’m scolded by a parent rather than my nine-year-old. “I’ll talk to her in a few minutes.”
“Grandma told you to see a doctor. I heard her. Why won’t you?”
“It’s hard to explain,” I say.
“Dad, please. This isn’t your fault.” Parker doesn’t understand what she’s saying. At least, I don’t think she does. I’m afraid to know what she’s learned or read about. I’m afraid she's using Google for reasons other than her homework. Her mother died overseas. I have to assume she wonders about more than she lets on.
“I was wrong tonight. I’ll go see a doctor, okay?”
“I want to go with you.”
“Let’s talk about this more tomorrow. Are you sure you don’t want any more of your grilled cheese?” Parker ate her to-go food in the car on the way home, but she only had a few bites.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you too, Dad. I’m just going to say goodnight to Mel.”
Parker stops at the stairwell, and I hear her say goodnight to Melody, receiving her “Sweet Dreams, sweetie,” in return.
I tuck Parker in, kiss her forehead, and make my way back downstairs to face a conversation I have dreaded for a very long time.
Melody looks distraught, stiff, unsure, and pale. “Can I start with an apology?” I ask.
“No,” she says.
“I knowI have some explaining to do.”
Melody tilts her head to the side and studies me with intensity. “Brett, do you think I married a man I know nothing about?”
I wasn’t expecting the conversation to begin this way. I hate that I feel as though I should answer her question with a yes.
“I don’t know how to answer your question.”
Melody presses her lips together and shakes her head. “When we watch the news, and someone is bleeding on the side of the road, you turn white. Your eyes open wide. You stare through the TV as if it's glass. I ask you if you’re okay, and you don’t respond.”
“What?” I don’t know what she’s referring to.
“At night, when you’re in a deep sleep, you shout to take cover. You make comments that you’re out of ammo. You sometimes call out for backup.”
I know I used to have nightmares, but I don’t think I’ve had any in a long time. None that she would be aware of, anyway. “When?”
