10. Seth
Istand outside the door of her apartment, shuffling from foot to foot. I didn’t dress up. I didn’t bring a flower or chocolate. I didn’t bring anything, because this is not a date. This is not a date. This is not a date.
I lift my hand and knock.
The door opens so quickly that I feel a draft almost suck me into the room. Gabby’s standing there in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with the school logo, and her damp hair is bound in a towel on top of her head. Her cheeks are rosy, and loose tendrils of damp hair have fallen out of her towel and are dripping on her shirt.
She holds up one finger, and I realize that she’s on the phone with someone on FaceTime. She ushers me in with an impatient move of her free hand. The other is holding the phone in front of her face.
“Come on in,” she mutters, and I brush past her.
“Who’s there?” a voice says from the phone’s speaker.
“It’s just Seth, Pop,” she says.
“Who’s Seth?” the voice asks.
She turns the phone toward me, and I see Mr. Jacobson, her step-grandfather. I met him when our family was at Lake Fisher. He’s a cantankerous older man with a grumpy streak that”s a mile wide. But he’s also intelligent, kind, and impossible not to like once you get past all the blustering.
“You remember Seth, Pop,” she says. ”He”s Matt and Sky Reed’s oldest son,” she explains. “Remember?”
“Of course, I remember. I’m not that old,” he grouses. I lift a hand and wave at him because I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. I really don’t want to put myself in his crosshairs if I don’t have to.
“I would beg to differ. You’re pretty damn old, Pop,” she quips. She laughs out loud, and that smile nearly stops my heart.
“Yeah, well, you’d differ with a tree if it would differ back,” he grumbles. “I’ll let you go,” he says quietly.
“Don’t go away mad, Pop. Just go away,” she says with a laugh.
Finally, the man chuckles. “Let me talk to that young man,” he says.
“No, Pop,” she says. “I’ll-talk-to-you-later-gotta-go-I-love-you-bye,” she rushes to say. Then she blows a kiss at the phone and hangs up on him. She looks up at me. “I’ll catch hell for that later.” She laughs and walks toward the bathroom. “Give me two minutes. Pop called just as I was getting out of the shower.”
I can see her standing in the doorway in front of the mirror as she takes the towel down, her dark hair falling in damp tendrils. She brushes through it and turns back to face me. “Are you ready?”
“Are you?” I ask.
She laughs. “This is as ready as I’m going to get. Let’s go.”
I’ve never been anywhere with a woman who has rosy cheeks, no makeup, and damp hair. “Let’s go,” I repeat.
She turns back when we get close to the door. “Hey, Seth,” she says quietly.
“Hey, Gabby,” I reply.
She smiles. “This isn’t a date, right?” she asks.
“This is not a date,” I affirm. Although I wish it were, it is most definitely not a date.
She blows out a relieved breath. “Thank you, baby Jesus,” she says. “I was worried.”
“About it being a date?”
She nods as she walks to the elevator. “Where are we going?” she asks.
“To get my hair braided,” I reply.
“Yeah, but where?”
I shrug. “Just a few miles away.”
Her stomach lets out a little complaint as the elevator descends. She lays a hand on her belly, and her cheeks get even more rosy. “Ignore that,” she says. “I didn’t eat yet. You said we could stop for hot dogs, so I was waiting.”
I laugh. “There are vendors all over the area where we’re going. Don’t worry. I’ll buy you a hot dog.”
She snorts. “I can buy my own hot dog, Seth.” She rolls her eyes.
I am beginning to think that this girl doesn’t need me for anything. At all. Not a damn thing.
We stop at a street vendor, and she orders a hot dog with chili and onions.
“No kissing for you later,” the vendor says with a grin.
She grins just before she takes a huge bite.
“I’d kiss her, onion breath or not,” a woman behind us says, and she winks at Gabby.
Gabby laughs out loud, nearly choking on her hot dog. “I like onion breath,” Gabby says with a shrug.
“Extra onions,” I say as he finishes making my hot dog.
“Smart man,” the woman says with a laugh.
I can’t get the stupid grin off my face as he hands me my hot dog and turns away.
We sit on a bench and finish our hot dogs and fries, which come in big cups.
“What do you want to do with your life, Gabby?” I suddenly ask.
She rocks her head back and forth. “I’m still deciding what specialty to pursue, but I want to be a doctor, Seth. I’ll get there,” she says with a nod. “It’ll just take time.”
I have no doubt she will. I’ve seen her in the treatment room. She’s good at what she does. “Orthopedics?” I ask. She has evaluated so many sports injuries.
“I waffle between ortho and neuro. I’ve seen a lot of you guys get head injuries. I’m still thinking about that.”
I had a concussion last year after getting hit in the temple with an elbow during a match. Concussion protocol is important.
“What about you?” she asks.
“Peds,” I say. “Pediatric medicine.”
“You want to be a doctor too?” she asks, setting the fry cup down.
I nod. “I always have. Originally, I wanted to cure cancer so I could help people like my mom.”
“Your mom died of cancer,” she says softly. “I keep forgetting that.”
“She fought long and hard. On the day she died, I told Aunt Sky that I would become a doctor so I could help people beat cancer.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“The Reeds volunteer at the downtown family clinic, and they took me with them a few times. It’s a no-cost clinic for people who don’t have insurance. A lot of kids come in with treatable medical conditions if only their parents had options. I’d like to be one of those options.”
“You like kids?” she asks.
“Some of them,” I say with a laugh. “Some of them are little shits.” I eat the last bite of my hot dog. “Speaking of little shits, we had better go, or we’re going to be late for my appointment,” I say as I chew.
I get up, and she follows me around the corner. We stop in front of an apartment building. “You get your hair done at someone’s apartment?” she asks as we go up in the elevator.
I nod. I haven’t told her where we’re going yet, and I can only hope she’s not too mad when she finds out.
We walk down the hallway, and I can hear the noise in the apartment through the closed door. “Is this a daycare?” she asks, taking a step back.
I haul in a breath. “Something like that.”
I turn the knob, open the door, and chaos ensues. Bodies rush at me. Small, medium, and large kids rush forward screaming, “Seth!” I grab the smallest two, one on each hip, and stand up as the rest of them attach to other parts of me.
Matt leans out of the kitchen. “What’s going on out here?” he calls.
He realizes it’s me, and he works to usher the kids away from me. I see that there are more than just Matt’s kids here. There always are.
“Sorry!” I yell at Gabby over the noise. “I probably should have warned you! Welcome to the land of the little shits!”
The littlest one in my arms sings out, “Little shits!”
Gabby snorts out a laugh.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” I say quietly.
“Little shits,” the littlest of Matt and Sky’s kids says.
“That’s nothing,” Matt says. “Last week, Sam called me a p-u-s-s-y face, and we had to hear that for a few days.” He makes sure to spell the word in a whisper. “It finally wore off, so don’t even think about saying it,” he says in warning. He takes the little one from me after I blow a raspberry on his neck. He giggles and reaches for me. Matt sets the kid down, and he toddles away. “What are you doing here?” he finally asks.
“Hair appointment,” my sister replies as she walks over. “And you’re late. That’ll be a five-dollar late fee.” She holds out her hand. I reach into my pocket and take out the twenty-dollar bill I was going to give her, no matter what. “You can waive the fee since I brought company.” I lean my head toward Gabby and open my eyes really wide.
“Hi, Joey,” Gabby says.
Gabby met all the kids at the lake. She took us all to learn to skip rocks, but I really didn’t expect her to remember their names.
“I did not sign up to do more than one head of hair today,” she says, her hands on her hips.
“Oh, I don’t need to have my hair done,” Gabby starts. She pulls her hair over her shoulder. It falls almost to her waist.
“I can do it,” Mellie says from behind her, where she’s just walking out of the bathroom. “I’m as good at braids as Joey is.”
“You are not,” Joey replies.
“I am too,” Mellie retorts.
“Girls!” someone calls from the kitchen. They turn, looking suddenly like they’re going to bolt. “Cut it out!”
Sky sticks her head around the door and stops short.
“Gabby,” she says. She looks at Seth. “Seth, you didn’t tell me Gabby was coming.”
“Last minute thing, Aunt Sky,” I reply.
“Well, you had better get started. I want the girls to be in bed by nine. Mama needs a glass of wine.”
Then she disappears back into the kitchen.
“Are you okay with this?” Seth asks. “I’m starting to think this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“Best birth control method ever,” Gabby says so low that only I can hear it.
I nearly choke on my own spit.
“There are just so many of them,” Gabby says with mock wonder.
“And they’re always here,” I warn. “Day. Night. Middle of the afternoon. It’s always like this.”
“Can we get started now?” Joey says impatiently.
I follow her to the sofa, where she sits down. I sit on the floor in front of her and lean back.
Gabby sits next to me on the carpet, so close that our knees are touching. One of the smaller kids toddles over and falls into her lap. She sits him up, pulls him close, and wraps one arm around him.
“God, I miss this when I’m not at home,” she says, her eyes closed as she takes in the smell of purple shampoo and baby powder. “Our house is always full of kids.”
I settle back while Gabby plays with the babies. Occasionally, her eyes catch mine, but we don’t talk much. Instead, I watch her with my family, and I see how she fits in, like she was made to be here.
A couple of times, Aunt Sky rushes through the room, taking care of one thing or another, and her eyes meet mine with a smile. And Matt gives me a thumbs-up. The house starts to clear out as people come and get their kids, and then it’s just Matt and Sky’s family here. The noise level decreases, and it suddenly feels cozy and intimate.
I nudge Gabby’s knee with mine. “You doing okay?” I ask.
She’s playing a card game called War with Mellie on the carpet. “I’m fine,” she replies absently.
Suddenly, Sky appears from the kitchen. “Bedtime!” she calls out. She’s holding one kid who is still slippery with bubbles, and Matt is chasing another who is naked across the room.
“Don’t go anywhere, Seth!” Sky calls. “We’ll be right back.”
Joey and Mellie are the only two kids left in the room.
“Can I do your hair now?” Mellie asks quietly.
“She doesn’t want braids, Mel,” I say. I reach up and touch the tight rows on the top of my head.
“Maybe two braids,” Gabby suggests. She hurries over toward the couch. “One on each side.”
Mellie’s face lights up as she realizes that someone is going to let her work on her hair.
“Mellie thinks she’s grown,” Joey mutters to me.
“Are you tender-headed?” Mellie asks her. Our mom used to call her tender-headed, even though she was too young when Mom died to remember any of it. But I told her the story when she was a little older, and it’s become a thing.
Gabby shakes her head. “My sister does French braids for me all the time.”
I watch as Mellie sections her hair and starts to braid it.
Matt comes out of the room, his eyebrows going up as he takes in the scene. “Brave soul,” he says.
Gabby winces as Mellie tugs a little too hard, working through a snarl of her own making. Joey goes to help her. A few minutes later, Gabby has matching braids, one on each side.
I reach out and tug one of her braids. “You look like Pippi Wrongstocking,” I chide.
She shushes me with a shove to my shoulder. “I think she did a great job.”
If crooked and messy make for a good job, then she did.
“We need a picture,” Gabby says. She climbs onto the couch next to me, and the girls settle on each side of us. She presses against my side, getting close, and nothing ever felt quite so right. She holds her phone out, snaps a picture of the four of us, and tucks her phone back into her pocket. I haven’t seen her take it out and stare at it once the whole time we’ve been here.
“How are your parents doing, Gabby?” Matt asks. Sky comes back into the room and sits on the arm of the chair he’s in. He wraps one arm around her, and she leans into him.
“Oh, they’re fine. Pop keeps them in line when I’m not at home.” She laughs.
Matt chuckles. “I can imagine.”
“I don’t know what you’re imagining,” Sky says. “Nothing stays in line around here. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She gets up and tells the girls it’s bedtime. Mellie turns to face Gabby, and she holds out her hand.
“How much do I owe you?” Gabby asks, reaching for her purse.
“No,” Matt says. But Gabby is serious about this. She pulls five dollars from her purse and hands it to Mellie, who beams.
“It’s worth it,” Gabby says.
Suddenly, a kid sticks his head around the corner from the hallway and yells, “Pussy face!”
“I’m going to kill your brother,” Sky announces. “Dead.”
“Get in line,” Matt says. “Let’s go, girls,” he says as he ushers Joey and Mellie toward their room, too. “Sorry about that, Gabby,” he says.
Gabby laughs. “Tonight was fun. Thanks for letting me hang out.”
Sky kisses me on the forehead, and Matt gives me a fist bump. “Good night, Gabby,” he says.
Gabby is quiet on the way back to her apartment. She barely says a word.
But when we get to her door, she steps inside, turns, blocks my entrance, and hangs on the doorframe. “Thank you for taking me tonight,” she says. “I had fun.” Her voice is quiet and soft, and it makes me want to come inside so badly. Then she says, “Good night, pussy face.” She grins. And she closes the door in my face. I can hear her laughing from the other side of the door. The bolt shoots home. I can hear it clearly.
I take a deep breath, and then I go back to my apartment. Alone.
My phone pings with a text. It’s a picture of the four of us at Sky and Matt’s—the best picture ever.