THE PHONE WOKE ME FROM A JUMBLE OF DISCONNECTED dream fragments. Ryan and I eating pasta. Ruben waving from a bus. Ollie shouting words I couldn’t understand. Tank snapping at a raven dive-bombing his head.

“Brennan.”

“Hi, Mom.”

I was thrilled to hear Katy’s voice. My happiness lasted about thirty seconds.

“How are you, sweetheart?”

“You sound sleepy. Oh my God. I forgot. It’s only seven out there.”

“I was just getting up. Have you talked to your dad? Is Birdie OK?”

“He’s great.”

Though sun filled the room, frost bordered the edges of the window glass. I closed my eyes and lay back.

“Are you sitting down?”

“Mmm.”

“I joined the army.”

“You won’t believe what I thought you just said.” Yawning.

“You heard right. I enlisted.”

My lids flew open. I sat straight up. “You what?”

“I report to Fort Jackson on July fifteenth.”

I was speechless. Katy was the little girl who liked pink and wore tutus to the dentist.

“Are you there?”

“I’m here.”

“Surprised?”

“Stunned. When did you sign up?”

“Last week.”

“Do the recruiters allow a grace period? Time to reconsider?”

“Like buyer’s remorse?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going through with this, Mom. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Are you doing this for Coop?”

Webster Aaron Cooperton was Katy’s boyfriend. The previous spring he’d been killed while serving as an aid worker in Afghanistan.

“Not for him. He’s dead.”

“Because of him?”

“In part. Coop lived to help people. I don’t do shit.”

“And the other part?”

“I hate my job. The army will allow me to make new friends. To travel.”

To places where people get blown up and shot. I swallowed.

“Coop wasn’t in the military,” I said.

“But I will be.” Resolute.

“Oh, Katy.”

“Please don’t fight me on this.”

“Of course I won’t.”

“It will be an adventure.”

“Just tell me you won’t do anything crazy, like volunteering for combat.”

“Women can’t go into combat.”

True. Officially. But I could think of too many ways that women ended up on the front lines. Fighter pilots. MPs. The Marine Corps Lioness program.

“You know what I mean,” I said.

“I love you, Mom.”

“Katy?”

“Gotta go.”

“I love you, sweetheart.”

I sat with the phone pressed to my chest, a million images swirling in my head. Katy at her singalong birthday party when she turned two. At a dance recital dressed as an elf. Going to prom in a wrist corsage twice the size of her arm.

I felt—what? Dubious that she’d survive boot camp? Fit in to military life? Anxious that she would? Betrayed that she hadn’t discussed her decision with me? Terrified that she’d be sent to a war zone?

All of that. But more.