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“I guess I was just afraid,” I tell her. “It seems silly to me now, but back then… I was a big, ol’ scaredy cat.”
“Were you afraid of my dad?” she asks.
“No, baby. Your dad is the greatest human in the world. I think I was more afraid of myself. It’s complicated.”
“I hope he likes me,” she says.
“Better than that, Knox. He will love you. I promise.”
When we arrive, J.R. is waiting for us. He’s pacing in front of the house, his hands wringing together. He’s nervous, which isn’t something I see J.R. often being.
Knox is asleep in the backseat, so I put the car in park and slide out quietly. J.R. is watching me as I approach him, his eyes soft, his expression denotes a hint of anxiety. I want to take his hands in mine and ease his nerves, but I don’t. I shove my hands in my pockets instead.
“She’s asleep, so I thought I would take the opportunity to answer any questions you may have.”
“Is she okay? With meeting me, I mean.”
“Yeah. She’s nervous, I think, but excited, too.” I glance back at the car and then to J.R. again. “Do you want to help me get her out of the car? She’s getting too big for me to carry.” That last part is mostly a lie, but I want J.R. to feel as though he has his first job as a father.
“Uh, yeah. I can do that.” He sounds excited to have already been given a job.
“She sleeps like you, so there’s no chance of you waking her up,” I joke.
J.R. opens the car door gently, and then he stands there for a moment. Observing her. Seeing her in person for the first time, asleep or not, beats seeing her in a picture. I think I see tears in his eyes as his expression goes soft, and I know that he loves her already. It’s instant. The kind of love that only a parent would understand.
J.R. reaches into the car, and he pulls her out gently. He holds Knox against his chest, her head on his shoulder, her legs dangling at his sides. I fight back my own tears, and I’ve never regretted my decisions more than I do right now in this moment. He hasn’t even said two words to her yet, but already, he loves her. He holds her so gently, so naturally.
I remember faking sleep as a child just so my dad would carry me into the house. I remember never feeling as safe anywhere else, except in the warmth and strength of my dad’s arms.
I hurry ahead of J.R. to the front door to open it for him, and then I follow them inside. J.R. carries Knox down the hall and into the spare bedroom. Her bedroom.
I’m surprised when I walk in behind him at the efforts he has made in this room for her. Everything from the ruffled, gray bed covers to the sweet, sheer curtains on the windows. J.R. has been busy since we saw each other yesterday, and he’s left nothing undone.
He lays Knox on the bed and pulls a throw blanket over her, pausing briefly to look at her again. He stands over her, gazing at Knox as though she is the most beautiful human he’s ever seen. I feel a tear run down my cheek, but I wipe it away quickly as I turn to leave the room. J.R. follows me, closing the bedroom door behind him. He meets me in the kitchen, but I’m turned away from him. My heart is aching, and I can’t control my tears. I sob, clutching the edge of the countertops, my head sunk into my shoulders.
J.R. doesn’t say anything at first. We just stand there on opposite sides of the kitchen with years of silence between us.
Finally, J.R. breaks the quiet. “She’s beautiful, Rach.”
I nod, still not willing to face him. I’m trying to suppress my sobbing, but instead, I sound like a dying bird. My hands cover my face, and then I remember that this isn’t the first time I’ve cried in this kitchen. This isn’t my first dark moment here. I don’t want to talk to him. Not right now. But then I think that maybe if I had just talked to him back then, things would be different now.
I finally feel like I have enough control over myself to face him, and when I do, I’m surprised to see his eyes red and wet with his own tears. He leans against the kitchen counter, too, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes cast to the floor. I move closer to him, my hands out to touch him, but I don’t. I’m not even sure what to say or what I want to say. What is there to say?
J.R. looks up at me, and I can’t tell if he’s angry, broken, or confused. Maybe he is all those things. “Since you left, did you… Were there…”
I know what he’s asking. Have I been with anyone else? No. I’ve never even thought about being with anyone else. I step closer to him. I’m only inches away now, and I look up at him.
“It’s always been you, J.R. I’ve never been with anyone else.”
“Then, why did you go?” he asks softly.
14
January 2006
I was sure that I had never felt more alone in my life. J.R. had been on the road since Christmas, and I hadn’t seen Kelley since October. I had been alone in our beautiful home on Tybee for weeks now. I hadn’t ventured out to try and make friends or to find something to do. I already had a friend, and I didn’t want anything to do. Perhaps I was depressed.
I knew that this was what I got for being with an up-and-coming musician. I was happy for him. Really. Music was J.R.’s dream, and I never wanted to take that away from him. In my defense, though, when we first got together, he was just a bar singer. I hadn’t expected him to soar to popularity so quickly. I never would have guessed how often he would be gone. He was gone for weeks on end, and each time he left, it felt like the weeks got longer. Of course, none of that changed anything. I still loved him.
