Lily was coloring on her placemat, trying to pretend she couldn’t hear the adults talking about her daddy. But her little shoulders were tense.
“Her father – my brother in everything but blood – came home broken,” Bear continued. “PTSD. Traumatic brain injury from an IED. He tried to fight it for three years. His wife left, couldn’t handle the nightmares, the anger. Took Lily. He spiraled hard.”
“Robbed a bank with an unloaded weapon. Wanted to get caught. Figured Lily was better off with him locked up than watching him fall apart. Fifteen-year sentence.” Bear’s voice cracked slightly. “Before they took him, he begged me to make sure Lily knew she was loved. That her daddy didn’t abandon her.”
“And the mother?” the officer asked.
“New husband doesn’t like reminders of her past. They moved here to get away from the military community, from anyone who knew them before. But the court gave me visitation rights. Two hours, every Saturday. McDonald’s was the only public place she’d agree to.”
One of the customers, an older woman who’d complained about Bear just last week, covered her mouth with her hand.
Bear pulled out his phone, showing the officer dozens of photos. Him and another Marine in combat gear, arms around each other’s shoulders, covered in Afghan dust. The same Marine holding a baby – Lily as an infant. Wedding photos where Bear stood as best man. And then harder photos – the Marine in a hospital bed, head bandaged, Bear beside him. Court photos. Prison visiting room photos.
“Every week, I tell her stories about her dad from before he got hurt,” Bear said. “Show her pictures of him as a hero, not as the broken man her mother wants her to forget. I’m the only link she has to who her father really was.”
Lily looked up from her coloring. “Uncle Bear was there when I was born. Daddy said he cried like a baby.”
“Did not,” Bear protested with fake gruffness. “Had something in my eye.”
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