Chapter 38 Knox
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
KNOX
Knox and I argued this afternoon. He's been trying to convince me for the past couple of months that his destiny is to go to art school. While of course, I think of the arts as being important, I want more for him. I see the life he has now—the life Melissa and I can provide for him—and it isn’t enough.
Yes, as a university professor I made enough money to keep me quite comfortable after my tenure, but in this economy, it isn’t enough for me to give the two of them the life they deserve.
Especially not after having paid Melissa’s medical bills. Or most of them.
I’m scared for Knox. And can’t help but wonder what the hell he’s thinking about wanting to take this path after the way he and his mother struggled financially for so long.
Becoming a successful artist… One who can support themselves, let alone a family, is so rare. A one in a million shot. And he’s just going to jump into it head first?
I admire his confidence and I am proud that photography—something that was our thing, something I taught him—is his passion. But can’t he pick something more stable?
I tried to reason with him, but it was impossible. And once he started raising his voice, calling me all these names, insulting me… I realized the resentment he still felt for me after all these years. It runs deep.
I don’t blame him for it. I know that it’s Melissa who fed him the lies. But like I’ve said many times, he already has a broken relationship with one parent—I’m not breaking the only one he still has.
I’m a disappointment to him. Someone who could never come through. I’m someone who doesn’t support him.
It crushed me, to see him like this. To hear what he really thinks of me.
Which is why I said what I said. Those horrible words I wish I could take back.
“I wish your mother had never told me about you.”
But it wasn’t about him. God, never about him. Knox is brilliant and so talented. All I meant is that maybe, if I had never known about him, he could’ve maintained this nebulous, vague idea of who I was. Without having evidence to how awful of a father I am.
I hate that I’ve been this monumental let down. I hate that he will forever think of me as this awful man who abandoned his mother in her time of need, who never wanted him, who is disappointed in him and unsupportive.
I wish I could tell him how much I love him, how happy I am he exists, how proud of him
I am. But he’ll never believe me.
Maybe once he cools down—once we both do—we can get through this.
I am just utterly terrified that I’ve ruined everything. That he hates me more now that he knows me. That maybe he’d liked me better if I had stayed away.
After I finish reading the passage aloud, neither my mother nor I speak a word for a good moment.
There’s… so much information to process, my head is spinning with it.
His relationship with my mother, for one.
The fact that he never expected our argument to last ten years.
How proud of me he truly was. His concern for my future.
But more importantly, what the last words I ever heard him speak truly meant.
I don’t know what to say to my mother, so I go with the first thing that pops into my head: “He helped pay for your medical bills?”
She sniffles, and it’s only then that I realize she’s crying. “Yeah. He… He didn’t want me to have any debt hanging over our heads.”
I nod, my eyes still on the pages, running my index finger over his handwriting, feeling the indentations in the paper. “Did you love him?”
She clears her throat. “Yes… And no. Not the same way he loved me.”
So we’re both winners in that regard. Walter spent his whole life loving a woman who wouldn’t love him back—the same destiny that waits for me now. What other similarities do we share other than heartbreak?
“I wish I had. But I realized that maybe I was looking for something different in our relationship. A protector. I was never really sure whether I loved him as much as he loved me. I didn’t trust my feelings.”
“Right.”
“I… You can’t help how you feel, Knox. Or how you don’t.”
I laugh once, humorlessly. “You’d get along so well with someone I know.”
I flip through the journal, words jumping out at me, calling to be read. But I need a minute before I move on.
“Thank you.” My mother kisses my cheek. “For making me listen to this. It’s… incredibly difficult because I did really care for your father. But I appreciate it. I needed to hear this.”
I swallow once, shrugging. “Yeah.”
“How about I make us some breakfast so we can keep reading together? I’ll take the day off from work.”
We spend the time flipping through journals, picking out random years and months, going as far back as the day he met my mother.
It’s wild to me, how he was able to record his entire life in these journals without missing a single day, the oldest one dating back to his first year of teaching.
By the end of the day, we still have years and years to go through, but I feel like I’ve gotten one step closer to getting to know him.
“What do you know about his life in Scotland? About growing up there and his family?”
“Not much,” my mother admits between sniffles.
“I know the name of his hometown and a bit about his childhood, but I never met any family members of his. Never knew him to be too open about them. I did know he missed Scotland quite often. He’d visit at least once a year, but I never went with him, obviously.
He invited me several times, but… I never agreed for some reason. It didn’t feel right.”
“Do you know when he moved to the US?”
“Right after he finished his doctorate in Cambridge. He chose to pursue teaching in an American university. Said it was his way of doing charity work for illiterate populations.” She smirks, as if getting caught in a memory.
I laugh softly. “What an ass.”
“Yeah.” Mom sighs deeply, wistful. “But I think he always planned on going back.”
I nod. “He had told his friends the same. Except that he didn’t want to leave me behind.
We weren’t even talking, and he stayed here, just in case I chose to forgive him.”
Guilt doesn’t even begin to describe the depth of my emotions now. The regret. The despair.
“Ma. You certainly were the origin of this… this misunderstanding. But all three of us are at fault, here. He could’ve cleared things up and asked to come see me—especially when he found out he was sick.
He should’ve talked to me and told me the truth.
And I could’ve grown the fuck up and tried to talk to him, too.
I could’ve sat down and let him explain everything to me.
Forgive him. And now he died the way he did, alone. ”
She gasps. “He was alone?”
“Not literally. Not the moment it happened. Lottie. She… She was one of his employees. She was there.” Just saying her name makes me wince—another slice, another ache.
“But what I mean is, he got sick and went through all that alone. He didn’t tell anyone.
He knew he was dying and chose to keep it quiet. ”
“Oh.”
“All I’m saying is, you’re not the only one who should feel guilt. There’s enough blame to go around.”
“Still, I’m sorry for the role I played in this. You deserved better.”
I exhale, pushing my fingers through my hair. I lean back against the couch and stare up at the ceiling. “God. How did everything get so messed up?”
“Well, what you just said. With—”
I shake my head and put my face in my hands. “Not just us. With… other people, too.”
“You mean with that girl you’ve been seeing? Is it the one you just mentioned?”
“How did you… How did you know I was seeing someone?”
“You haven’t stayed in one place for more than a couple of weeks since art school. In the past, you would’ve been there to help, but there’s no way you would’ve been able to stay there for longer than a month without taking an impromptu trip to some desolate place or something.”
“I went to a B&B in Vermont for a weekend away. Does that count?”
She snorts. “No. It sounds more like a romantic getaway, not a Knox getaway.”
I snort. “You’re not wrong.”
“So, what’s up with this girl? Is she still in that town?”
“No. She’s gone.” I can’t bear to look at my mother, to see the look in her face. So I keep my eyes on my feet.
“And you two…?”
“Are done. She broke up with me.”
“Then she’s an idiot.”
I laugh and shoot her a look.
“What?”
“It’s just, I keep comparing my situation with Lottie to that of yours and Walter’s. The whole unrequited love of it all. So, in a way, you just called yourself an idiot.”
She laughs too. “I feel like we already established that, though. I agreed.”
“True.”
“So what’s next for you?”
“I was planning on taking this assignment. It’s in Kenya—an amazing opportunity to be with the Masai for three months. But.” I sigh.
“But?”
“But I want to learn more about Dad. I want to… I think I want to head over to Scotland. Find his family. Learn more about him. I think I owe it to him and to myself. And it sucks, because I will never get to have a relationship with him, but… This way I can finish getting to know him. I think I need this.”
“I think you need this, too. I think it’s a fantastic idea, hon’.”
“Yeah. It’ll piss off my agent, though. I literally just agreed to this other assignment yesterday.” But I honestly couldn’t care less. It’s time I got to know this mysterious man who’d only revealed himself to me in death. It’s time I dug deeper. For him and for myself.
“Your mental health is more important than any of that, Knox.” And I know she’s right.
“How long would you be gone for?”
“I don’t know, Ma. As long as it takes to get to know him better? To find answers to questions I didn’t even know I had?”
She nods, serious. “I have some money saved up, if you need it. You can—”
“I don’t need anything. I have enough money saved up until the cash from the store and apartment sales come through.”
“But if you—”
I take her hands in mine. “Thank you. I know you’re just trying to make it right—do your part. But this is the part I do need to do by myself.”