Page 158 of Demo
Again, it’s not huge. It’s not some industrial kitchen you would find in a restaurant. It’s a kitchen you cook Christmas dinner for your family in. I say nothing as I follow Knox through the open space to a modest oval dining table that rests in front of a sliding glass door. I run my hand over the light wood as I walk over and glance out the back doors, to find a back porch with two red Adirondack chairs and a grill. Further out in the yard, I see a fire pit.
Knox clears his throat, and I look at him. “Uh, so, it’s not too far from the kitchen to the porch, so when you’re grilling and you need more seasoning or a knife or whatever … you know, it’s right there. And the porch is under an overhang, so you can still sit out there when it’s raining.”
I nod. I know my muteness is making Knox nervous, and that’s not my intention. I just don’t even know what to say. It’s perfect.
We come around to a living room large enough to comfortably house a full-size couch, loveseat and recliner, all nestled around a coffee table and facing a large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall adjacent to the bay window. Between the back sliding doors and the large front window, the space is filled with natural light, so bright and warm.
The floors are still the light-colored hardwood, but a huge, salmon-colored rug stretches throughout the living room, making it feel even more cozy.
I crouch down and run my fingers through the shag, then look up at Knox. “Didn’t peg you for a guy who would pick a pink rug,” I joke as I stand.
“It’s peach!” he barks out. “The lady at the store said it’s trendy right now, and it would go well with the floor and the cool tones of the color palette or some shit.” He’s laughing by the time he finishes his sentence. “And you know what? It kinda grew on me, OK? I kinda like it.”
I’m laughing now, too. “I like it too, Knox. I like it a lot. Really, this is all just—”
“Come on,” he says, steering me by my elbow toward the open stairs. We climb to the top and he tells me to head right into the master bedroom. This, however, is not as I pictured it would be. A queen-size bed rests against the far wall, and is neatly made with big fluffy pillows arranged on top. The two windows have poofy curtains drawn back with lacy ties. It’s beautiful, but very feminine. Veryme.
I can’t help but wonder how long it took him to make the bed so neatly this morning, seeing as he never made his bed in the mornings all the years we were married.
“The closet,” he pulls me out of my thoughts, “is huge. There are two rows of racks so you can hang pants on the bottom and shirts on the top, and then shoes or whatever on the shelves up top.” He hinges open the door as he says this, and I notice there’s hardly anything in there, but I guess that’s typical, since Knox lives in his work clothes anyway. They are probably all shoved in a dresser drawer.
“And, as requested, you can access the master bath from here.” Knox turns around a little corner and I find him standing in a big bathroom with “his and hers” sinks in front of a large mirror. The vanity is white, and the hardware is silver. A large walk-in tub with a shower attachment rests behind a frosted-glass door, and a toilet is nestled in the corner. A painting of an abandoned boat on a shore is hung on the wall, and is a nice touch.
“This is fantastic,” I say, looking around and then catching Knox’s eyes in the mirror. We stare at each other until he finally breaks it, running a hand through his short hair.
“Then, this door leads to the hallway, where the other rooms are.”
Again, I follow him into the hallway. He just points into the first room we pass, which has a desk, and boxes piled up on the floor. “I figured this could be your home office. So maybe you could come home and finish some of your stories, instead of staying late at the office and coming home in the dark.”
“Myoffice?” I ask.
But Knox just keeps talking. “I didn’t know how you wanted it arranged. Anyway, the spare bedroom is over here.”
I follow him to the next room at the end of the hallway. Inside is an unmade bed. It has a simple headboard, with matching nightstand and dresser. This room has one smaller window with a cute valance with small daisies on it.
“I guess some things never change,” Knox says as he walks over and starts to haphazardly straighten the bedsheets. “I fucking hate making the bed.”
Slightly perplexed, I put my hands on my hips. I look behind me, as if I can look through the walls to the rest of the house, then back at Knox making the bed, and he stiffens.
“What?” he asks. “What is it? Do you hate it? We can change anything, Lizzie. Is it the wall color? The layout? That’s a little harder to change. We stuck to the layout we talked about, but we could still make adjustments.”
I shake my head and put my hand up to stop him. “You’re sleeping in here?”
He nods, like he doesn’t understand why I’m asking.
“Why aren’t you sleeping in the master bedroom?”
Now he tries to look through the walls. Bringing his face back to mine, he shrugs. “This is your house, Lizzie. I always knew it would be. From the moment I saw the lot. I’ve just been keeping it occupied until you got here.”
Then, I see them—they must have slid out the top of his shirt when he leaned over to make the bed. My wedding band and engagement ring hang from a sleek silver chain around his neck.
I suck in a quick, sharp intake of air, and Knox must follow my line of sight because he quickly tucks the rings back under his T-shirt. “I, uh—” he starts, but I interrupt him.
“I wondered if you came back and got it. My ring. I looked for it when I packed up the apartment.” He nods, then brings his hand back up and fiddles with the chain. He blows out a shaky breath, and I continue, “I thought maybe you wanted to sell it.”
Knox’s eyes snap up to meet mine, and he shakes his head. “No one else will ever wear these rings, Lizzie. If they’re not on your finger, then they’re around my neck. No one else will live in this home. If you don’t want to live here, I get it. It’ll break my fucking heart to see it lay dormant, but I understand. But no one else will live here. Not even me, if you’re not here.”
We stare at each other for a moment, then he takes a few steps to come around the bed toward me. He takes my shoulders in his hands and leans down and kisses my forehead. “This is your home, Lizzie. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, and that will never change.”
