Mr. Knight/A Jordan Knight Fanfic ✔️

11

11. cacophony

I don't end up at the library; I can't be on campus right now. Where he is. Instead, I put on sneakers and my knee brace for added support and walk outside. Clouds boil overhead in warning, but the rain isn't supposed to start until tonight.

So I walk, my muscles slowly warming, my damp hair tucked under a beanie and hood. I don't stop for several miles, and then only because my phone vibrates in my pocket.

Pulling it out, I read the Caller ID and quickly answer. During the school term, my mother and I rarely speak outside our Sunday morning calls.

"Mom? What's wrong?"

She's quiet for a few moments; my stomach drops. "I don't know how to say this, baby. So I'm just going to tell you. Your father died today."

The first, strongest emotion is apathy. "Okay."

Another pause. "Would you like to know what happened?"

"He had a heart attack while banging a twenty-year-old?" I ask sharply, then blanch. "Jesus, mom. I'm sorry."

She sighs. "No, it's all right. It was a heart attack, actually. During a seminar on campus."

Nebulous thoughts bounce through me, oddly linked. Stanford campus, where he's been a professor for thirty years.

Never slept with his students, at least.

Knight sleeps with students.

Dad preferred waitresses, I recall.

Why did I never see the connection?

Charming philanderers.

Is this the Freudian Electra complex?

Yuck, yuck. Quadruple Yuck.

"Darcy?" asks my mom.

"I'm here," I say, then clear my throat. "Are you going to the memorial? I'm assuming there will be one."

"Yes, I think so."

My father did love my mother—deeply. Anyone who's read his poetry knows that. But love wasn't enough for him to keep it in his pants. Haunted by the unnamed need to find his next great inspiration, he turned his back on her and on his children.

He never did find another muse.

Mom finally left him when Derrick and I were old enough to understand. We unanimously agreed with the divorce. In the final years, he was rarely home anyway, opting to live in an apartment near campus.

"Would you like to fly down and come with me?" she asks.

I take a breath. "Let me think about it, okay? My workload is pretty intense this quarter."

It's a weak excuse, but beneath my shell of apathy stirs old resentment. Why should I show up for his funeral when he couldn't show up for even one of my dance recitals?

"Of course, baby. When I get the details, I'll email them to you."

"Thanks, mom." I hesitate. "I'm sorry."

She makes a small sound. "Me, too. I wish he'd lived a happier life."

"Yeah," I say vaguely.

"I love you, Darcy."

"Love you, too, mom. Bye."

I tuck my phone back in my pocket and stare at the sky, now darkening to ominous pewter. Turning stiffly, I begin the long walk home. The brace on my knee is a lifesaver on the steady uphill grade, but I'm still in pain by the time I reach my building. It's raining lightly now, and the ground is slick.