time, I’d been happy, too.
I flipped to the next photo and saw that it was one she took of
herself from arms-length away. It looked like it was taken ten or fifteen years
earlier, but the date wasn’t on the back so I couldn’t be sure. In it, her
mouth was smiling but her eyes looked sad and she was pointing to a tree trunk
beside her that had freshly carved words in it. It said I love you, Kate .
I felt a lump in my throat and tried to swallow it.
This whole time I’d been wondering how she could give me away,
how she could give up part of herself. But it wasn’t like that. She just didn’t
want us to hold each other back. So she made sure I would have what I needed like
any good mom would do. Then she did what she needed to do for herself.
And even when we were apart, she took me with her. Not physically,
of course. But in the only way she knew how.
Chapter
20: Dawn
Dear Kate,
You must be wondering about what kind of guy your real father was.
And if you’re not, maybe you will be someday, and you’ll be glad you have this.
I wish I could tell you what he’s like now, but I can’t. All I
know is that he moved to Texas years ago. Last I heard he was married and
working at a local news channel. So you can probably find him if you want to. I
wouldn’t necessarily encourage it, though, because I don’t want you to hurt any
more than you already do. Plus, it’s hard for me to believe that he would
exceed even the low expectations you would justifiably have for him.
However, I do understand that you might be curious to know more
about him. The best I can do is tell you who he was and what he was like when
he was with me.
I met Scott in my twenties through a mutual friend of ours who
was in a band. The night I met him, he was wearing a touch of eyeliner and
jeans so tight that nowadays I’m pretty sure they’re only legal in Europe.
Anyway, I thought he was the only groupie that wasn’t plastered, but he was
just really good at holding his drink. Which is something that I always admired
in people.
He did an obvious double take when he first saw me, and I
remember vividly how that made me feel. Not only because I was flattered, but
because he was the most attractive man I’d ever seen. He asked me if I wanted a
whiskey and I said sure, and when he reached for a glass, I reached for the
bottle. He was impressed. Love at first swig I guess.
We were pretty much inseparable after that first night. His
sense of humor was filthy and he often made me laugh so hard I would get cramps
in my side, and I’d have to beg him to stop. He also swore like a truck driver
and pretended- like most guys- to be a lot tougher than he was.
For example, his favorite food was strawberries. And he was
really interested in motorcycles even though he didn’t have one or know how to
ride one. He was athletic though. And he was proud of the fact that he could do
a perfect belly flop, the kind of belly flop that would make everyone on the
pool deck squeal and cringe. Afterwards, his stomach would be bright red for
hours, but he loved the attention more than he hated the pain.
We moved in together into a small studio apartment where our
only expenses were rent and alcohol and drugs (back when they weren’t nearly as
dangerous as they are today, fyi). I remember that time fondly, especially when
I consider all the new things he introduced me to. Like Wagner’s music and
Franz Marc’s paintings. But he always hid the fact that he was smart from other
people.
I don’t know why. I guess it made him feel vulnerable somehow if
people knew he wasn’t an idiot. Plus, he liked people to be comfortable around
him, and they were. He could win over anybody. Even guys who were obviously
intimidated by his looks.
Cause I’m telling you, he was handsome enough to be a movie
star. It’s no surprise to me that he went on to work in television. He could
even do accents really well which he often did when he was telling
I flipped to the next photo and saw that it was one she took of
herself from arms-length away. It looked like it was taken ten or fifteen years
earlier, but the date wasn’t on the back so I couldn’t be sure. In it, her
mouth was smiling but her eyes looked sad and she was pointing to a tree trunk
beside her that had freshly carved words in it. It said I love you, Kate .
I felt a lump in my throat and tried to swallow it.
This whole time I’d been wondering how she could give me away,
how she could give up part of herself. But it wasn’t like that. She just didn’t
want us to hold each other back. So she made sure I would have what I needed like
any good mom would do. Then she did what she needed to do for herself.
And even when we were apart, she took me with her. Not physically,
of course. But in the only way she knew how.
Chapter
20: Dawn
Dear Kate,
You must be wondering about what kind of guy your real father was.
And if you’re not, maybe you will be someday, and you’ll be glad you have this.
I wish I could tell you what he’s like now, but I can’t. All I
know is that he moved to Texas years ago. Last I heard he was married and
working at a local news channel. So you can probably find him if you want to. I
wouldn’t necessarily encourage it, though, because I don’t want you to hurt any
more than you already do. Plus, it’s hard for me to believe that he would
exceed even the low expectations you would justifiably have for him.
However, I do understand that you might be curious to know more
about him. The best I can do is tell you who he was and what he was like when
he was with me.
I met Scott in my twenties through a mutual friend of ours who
was in a band. The night I met him, he was wearing a touch of eyeliner and
jeans so tight that nowadays I’m pretty sure they’re only legal in Europe.
Anyway, I thought he was the only groupie that wasn’t plastered, but he was
just really good at holding his drink. Which is something that I always admired
in people.
He did an obvious double take when he first saw me, and I
remember vividly how that made me feel. Not only because I was flattered, but
because he was the most attractive man I’d ever seen. He asked me if I wanted a
whiskey and I said sure, and when he reached for a glass, I reached for the
bottle. He was impressed. Love at first swig I guess.
We were pretty much inseparable after that first night. His
sense of humor was filthy and he often made me laugh so hard I would get cramps
in my side, and I’d have to beg him to stop. He also swore like a truck driver
and pretended- like most guys- to be a lot tougher than he was.
For example, his favorite food was strawberries. And he was
really interested in motorcycles even though he didn’t have one or know how to
ride one. He was athletic though. And he was proud of the fact that he could do
a perfect belly flop, the kind of belly flop that would make everyone on the
pool deck squeal and cringe. Afterwards, his stomach would be bright red for
hours, but he loved the attention more than he hated the pain.
We moved in together into a small studio apartment where our
only expenses were rent and alcohol and drugs (back when they weren’t nearly as
dangerous as they are today, fyi). I remember that time fondly, especially when
I consider all the new things he introduced me to. Like Wagner’s music and
Franz Marc’s paintings. But he always hid the fact that he was smart from other
people.
I don’t know why. I guess it made him feel vulnerable somehow if
people knew he wasn’t an idiot. Plus, he liked people to be comfortable around
him, and they were. He could win over anybody. Even guys who were obviously
intimidated by his looks.
Cause I’m telling you, he was handsome enough to be a movie
star. It’s no surprise to me that he went on to work in television. He could
even do accents really well which he often did when he was telling
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