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from Chapter 41
Jobs had an aching desire to make it to his son’s graduation from high school in June 2010. “When I was diagnosed with cancer, I made my deal with God or whatever, which was that I really wanted to see Reed graduate, and that got me through 2009,” he said. As a senior, Reed looked eerily like his father at eighteen, with a knowing and slightly rebellious smile, intense eyes, and a shock of dark hair. But from his mother he had inherited a sweetness and painfully sensitive empathy that his father lacked. He was demonstrably affectionate and eager to please. Whenever his father was sitting sullenly at the kitchen table and staring at the floor, which happened often when he was ailing, the only thing sure to cause his eyes to brighten was Reed walking in.
Reed adored his father. Soon after I started working on this book, he dropped in to where I was staying and, as his father often did, suggested we take a walk. He told me, with an intensely earnest look, that his father was not a cold profit-seeking businessman but was motivated by a love of what he did and a pride in the products he was making.
One Saturday Reed was one of the four contestants on his school’s Quiz Kids team competing on a local TV station. Jobs drove his two-seat Mercedes SL55, taking Reed, while his wife followed in her own car with Erin. On the way home, she asked Erin why she thought her father refused to have a license plate on his car. “To be a rebel,” she answered. I later put the question to Jobs. “Because people follow me sometimes, and if I have a license plate, they can track down where I live,” he replied. “But that’s kind of getting obsolete now with Google Maps. So I guess, really, it’s just because I don’t.”
When his 2011 medical leave was announced, the situation seemed so dire that Lisa Brennan-Jobs got back in touch after more than a year and arranged to fly from New York the following week. Her relationship with her father had been built on layers of resentment. She was understandably scarred by having been pretty much abandoned by him for her first ten years. Making matters worse, she had inherited some of his prickliness and, he felt, some of her mother’s sense of grievance. “I told her many times that I wished I’d been a better dad when she was five, but now she should let things go rather than be angry the rest of her life,” he recalled just before Lisa arrived.
The visit went well. Jobs was beginning to feel a little better, and he was in a mood to mend fences and express his affection for those around him. At age thirty-two, Lisa was in a serious relationship for one of the first times in her life. Her boyfriend was a struggling young filmmaker from California, and Jobs went so far as to suggest she move back to Palo Alto if they got married. “Look, I don’t know how long I am for this world,” he told her. “The doctors can’t really tell me. If you want to see more of me, you’re going to have to move out here. Why don’t you consider it?” Even though Lisa did not move west, Jobs was pleased at how the reconciliation had worked out. “I hadn’t been sure I wanted her to visit, because I was sick and didn’t want other complications. But I’m very glad she came. It helped settle a lot of things in me.” |
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