Knox
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll tell you about my dad.”
“It’s fine if you don’t want to. I get it,” Sylvie says.
“First off, he’s not around anymore, which is why it’s not my favorite topic.”
“Like . . . ran off, or—”
“Passed away.”
“Oh, Knox.” Sylvie’s face is tender.
I look away and pick at the ground. “It happened when I was young.”
Sylvie puts her hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry for making you talk about this.”
“It actually feels kinda good to open up.”
“But still.”
“He loved my mom and me. He liked video games and movies and was a big Lord of the Rings fan. It’s why our dog was named Bilbo. My memories of him are fading.”
“Got any pictures of him?”
I meet Sylvie’s eyes and give her a melancholy smile and point to my face. “Just the one I carry around.”