Melody doesn’t realize she’s chewing her lip or glancing up at me with her sad puppy-dog eyes. It’s just the look she gives me when she feels bad about something. “Maybe remembering will help you come to terms with what happened then as opposed to what you’re thinking about now.”
“No, I don’t want to. Honestly, if I were going to do anything with those letters, I’d like to shove them up Ace’s ass. I was in combat, writing what could have been my last words and he had the goddamn nerve to hide them in a box so you wouldn’t find them.”
And there it is. My uncontrollable enragement about the stupid letters. She knows this conversation never ends the way she wants it to. I don’t understand why she continues to bring it up.
Melody tosses her head back into her pillow and groans. “He apologized. What else should I do?”
He apologized. My ass. He sent the box to us a week after we got married, with a note saying: “Sorry I never gave these to you.” That was it.
I wanted to call him myself and read him the riot act. Who does something like that? I didn’t know who the hell Ace was until Melody moved home. They weren’t even dating when I first started sending the letters. They were roommates or something.
The way our conversation is going is more or less the way our original argument started. Of course, I was far more heated when I found out this guy was stealing her mail for more than two years. He owes me an apology, a real one, not just to Melody. I know it’s a petty thing, but I want to ask the guy if he read all my letters before burying them somewhere. My heart was scattered in words throughout each page I wrote to her. I never expected a response since I didn’t get one after the first letter, but I at least thought she might be reading them
“Nothing,” I say.
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” she replies.
“I want to burn the letters and never think about them again,” I tell her. Through the heat of my anger, I remember the news she gave me last night about our baby, and I shouldn’t be upsetting her. I should be pampering her. Shit.
“Okay, let’s just put this conversation about the letters on hold. When I find a therapist, I’ll see what they think about re-reading them. Is that fair?”
“That’s fair,” she says, holding up her pinky. I wrap my pinky around hers. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“So, you don’t know how far along you are? I think it took a minute for everything to sink in last night, and by the time I came up with a million questions, you had already fallen asleep.”
“No, I just took the test yesterday while you were picking up Parker from school. I need to call and make an appointment today.”
“I can’t wait for every part of this—to do this with you.”
“Do you think Parker can keep this a secret until we know more?” Melody asks. I think she’s asking because she knows Parker can’t keep secrets, but she was planning to tell us last night, so I’m not sure if she’s rethinking things now.
I squint one eye closed. “I think we both know the answer to that question.”
“I think that’s why I put it off for so long during dinner last night. I was worried about telling her and having something happen, or—you know, if it doesn’t work out this time. I don’t want to hurt her.”
Those thoughts didn’t cross my mind. I didn’t have to think about this stuff when Abby was pregnant with Parker because I didn’t find out until I returned from my deployment, and Abby was already eight months pregnant.
“This is all new for me, despite what you think. I was gone during most of Abby’s pregnancy and didn’t see a whole lot, and I don’t think I paid attention in health class, so I might be a little ignorant about some of this,” I admit.
“It’s not like I have instructions either. I guess we’ll just go with the flow,” Melody says, clambering out of bed.
“Okay, so let’s see what the doctor says, then we’ll tell Parker.”
“Yes, that sounds like a plan,” Melody agrees.
Before Melody can take her next breath, there is a pounding on the door. “Tell me what?” Parker shouts.
“To get ready for school,” I reply in the same shouting tone.
“I have this weird feeling Parker sits outside our door to hear our secrets,” I whisper to Melody.
“You know, this could be hard on her too since neither of us are biological to her. I think we should try to do some special activities for Parker overt the next few months, so we make sure she knows this baby,” she whispers the word, “won’t change how much we love her.”
“How did I end up with you?” I ask, dragging myself out of bed.
“I believe it was some weird twist of fate,” she says, tying her robe together at her waist.
“We have four shipments going out today. There’s a water delivery, and the latter tun is making a weird noise, so I have someone coming in to check out the pressure sensor,” Melody spouts off.
