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“Too old for gold-and-leopard print,” she points out.
“Touché.” I smile. “I do like him better in jeans.”
“I can’t go over to Maria’s house anymore,” she says sadly.
“Maybe that’s for the best,” I tell her, scooping her up into my arms and kissing the top of her head. “They’re the ones missing out, anyway. You are an amazing kid, and you have the best daddy in the whole, wide world. He loves you, Knox Rose. Don’t forget that.”
“When is he coming home?” she asks me.
“Soon, I hope. I miss him.”
“Me, too.”
***
“Daddy! I learned a new trick!” Knox exclaims, crashing into J.R. as he walks through the front door. She wraps her arms around his legs, and he drops everything in his arms to hug her back.
He seems to be surprised by Knox’s enthusiasm. “Nice to see you, too,” he says with a weird smile on his face as he looks at me with a questioning expression on his face. I shrug. I had no idea she learned a new trick or that it was something she was dying to show him.
“Come see my new trick!” Knox says, pulling his hand.
“Wait a second. Let me kiss my bride.” J.R. leans into me and kisses me. “I missed you.”
“I missed you.” I smile, but I can’t ignore his smell. It’s probably been days since he’s had a decent shower, and I think his pores are bleeding alcohol.
J.R. looks down at Amia in my arms, and he gives her a kiss on her cheek. Amia smiles up at him, and J.R. looks back up at me with surprise in his eyes. “She smiles now?”
I laugh. “She’s been smiling. She’s really good at it, too.”
“She looks bigger,” he points out.
“Babies grow.”
“Come on!” Knox says impatiently, pulling J.R.’s hand.
“All right, I’m coming.” Knox runs ahead of us down the hall.
“What is that?” J.R. asks me in reference to Knox’s enthusiasm.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I kind of talked to her the other day about how you play a character on stage and that the video she saw of you was just you acting. It seemed to help, but she hasn’t stopped playing piano since. Maybe she taught herself a new song.” Now that I say it out loud, I realize that maybe I should have been watching her a little closer.
Knox takes her place on the piano bench. Her long, dark, curly hair hangs down her back; and before she begins, she turns toward us to flash us a big smile. There’s something in her blue eyes that tells me she’s got something up her sleeve—something she has yet to share with me—and I’m not sure how I feel about whatever is coming next.
“Let’s see your trick,” J.R. says, motioning with his hand for her to begin.
Knox takes a moment to compose herself, and then she begins to play an old song of J.R.’s. It’s one with a quick tempo and a great piano riff. I’m surprised that she was able to teach herself how to play this particular tune without J.R.’s instruction. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. She’s talented. Just like her daddy.
J.R. and I both stand there with smiles on our faces, proud of our girl, until she begins to do something that we don’t expect. Knox begins to head bang. Her little head goes back and forth in a rapid motion consistent with the beat, the way J.R. does when he plays. Her long hair is flying back and forth, side to side; and just like J.R., she doesn’t miss a single note. Knox has the method down perfectly.
I’ve always felt that J.R’s head banging was unique. One would think that head banging is head banging until you’ve seen J.R. in a show. His head-banging technique is not quite as extreme as an ‘80s hair band would have been, but it is pretty fierce.Watching my daughter do the same is both frightening and entertaining. I’m undecided on whether or not I should be proud or disturbed.
My mouth is hanging open in shock, and J.R’s is, too. But then for the finish, Knox steals another one of J.R.’s signature moves—a backbend right over the piano bench. She hangs upside down, and her hair is dragging the floor. Her feet are hooked around the front legs of the piano bench so that she doesn’t flip over, and her blue eyes are glistening at us just as J.R’s shine when he’s playing. She smiles wide at us, and she waits for us to clap or cheer or do something to acknowledge her performance.
I’m not exactly sure what to say, and I can’t even bring myself to clap. My mouth still hangs open wide, and I shift my eyes to J.R. His eyes are wide but in a different way. He’s proud, and beneath his beard, I see a smile on his face.
Knox sits upright again and turns to face us on the piano bench. “I did what you do, Daddy,” Knox exclaims.
“Yes, you did,” J.R. gushes. “I’m impressed. How did you teach yourself to do that?”
