Knox
“Ah, Knox.” My father is sitting at the table in front of the panoramic windows, where I can get a glimpse of the sun rising slowly behind the Aspen Highlands. Seeing me come in, he opens his copy ofUSA Todayand puts it down between the bowl with the eggs and the pitcher with my protein shake. “Come over here and have a look.”
With one hand I pull the cap off my head, with the other I peel myself out of my down jacket. I bend over and look at the paper. Snow falls out of my hair onto the table. “Firefighters Free Man from Chastity Belt.” I frown. “With an angle grinder? What kind of…”
“Not that!” He points to the other article. “Here, read this!”
With every line I scan, the furrows in my forehead grow deeper.
“Oh,” I say.
My father raises his eyebrows so high they almost reach his hairline. A considerable achievement. “Oh?” he repeats, flicking the article with a finger. “That’s all you’ve got to say? That’s a catastrophe, Knox! Jason Hawk is your biggest rival and pulled off a frontside double-kick 1260° in the first twenty seconds of his ride on the Revolution Tour! In the first twenty seconds, Knox! Do you knowwhat that means?”
I let myself fall into the chair across from him and pour my protein shake into my glass. “Yeah.” The corner of my mouth twitches. “He pulled it off in less time than I need to peel this egg. I could ask him if we could make a new routine out of it.” I pretend to be playfully casual, as if blowing my nonexistent bangs out of my face, and lean onto the back of the chair next to me with my elbows. “Hey, Jason. Up for a challenge? You and your snowboard against me and my egg. The winner gets…” I think for a second, then suggestively jiggle my eyebrows twice in a row. “The egg.”
“That’s not funny, Knox.”
No? I think so.
My father’s face is grim, his lips pressed into a thin line. He loosens his tie. “Your show on the pipe is today. You’ve got to top that.”
“Dad.” I laugh softly while peeling off the last bits of shell and putting my egg on a roll. “It’s just a show.”
“It’s got to do with your attitude,” he replies. His eyes become tiny slits. He hasn’t touched the roll on his plate. He is staring at me like a wild lion that wants to fill its stomach with a helpless antelope instead. “Every ride is important. If you see the show as no big deal, you’ll stay behind at the X Games, too. You need to be more ambitious, son!”
“What I need is coffee. And pronto,” I say. Running into that figure skater on the slope yesterday just won’t leave me alone. I lay awake in bed half the night, reproaching myself for the way I acted before reproaching myself for thinking about her at all. By the time I finally fell asleep, I was racked by nightmares. Images that I have desperately tried to keep down for years. It was still early when the ever-repeating scream in my head woke me up. Glaring. Bloodcurdling.
Captivating.
My whole body was covered in goose bumps. I felt uneasy. Panicky. The longer I stayed in bed thinking about the images, theworse my breathing got.
So I went for a walk. And, without thinking about it at all, my legs took me to Silver Lake. The only place that allows my thoughts to grow louder while at the same time quieting them down.
My father ignores my reply. He’s long been absorbed in his phone, typing away with a concentrated air. “I wanted to show you this, too.” He takes a quick gulp of coffee, without looking away from his phone. Showing me his phone, the brown liquid slips over the side and decorates his roll with a few dark drops.
A quick glance is enough to recognize what he means.
Instagram.
I roll my eyes and reach for the coffeepot.
“Don’t roll your eyes, Knox. This is serious.”
“Oh, wow. I didn’t know that Jason was prone to fucking his underage followers.”
“What?” My father pulls his phone back and stares with abnormal longing at Jason’s profile before looking back at me. “What are you talking about, Knox?”
Cool as a cucumber I take a bite of my roll and lean back. “Nowthatwould be serious, Dad.”
The veins in his temples begin to pulse. My father is an investor and real-estate agent. Almost every ski resort in Aspen belongs to him. Normally, nothing upsets him that quickly. But I can declare with pride that I have a natural talent for doing so.
“Over the last few weeks, he gained over fifteen thousand new followers. Almost twice as many as you. You’re neglecting your online presence.”
“I’m neglecting this coffee.”
“Don’t be an ass, Knox.” Now my father’s the one rolling his eyes. “You’ve got to hang out there more. Let your followers into your day-to-day more. You need the press on your side; your name has to be on everybody’s lips. That’s the only way you’re going to be successful.” He locks his phone and tosses it onto the table moreforcefully than intended. “I mean, when are you finally going to understand that? If you want to get any further, a few things make the difference. Not just your snowboard. Your last post was two weeks ago.”
Behind my temples a pulsating pressure is starting to build. It’s not the first time this week that my father has been on my ass with this Instagram crap.
