Chapter 2
Seth
A car whizzes by much too close to us. I’d cuss if not for two reasons. One, I have my daughter with me and she loves to try to repeat whatever I say. The other reason is that I don’t need any more negative press.
Not that any of it is my fault. It comes with the territory when you’re a professional basketball player for one of the most popular teams in the country. We swept the finals last year and made it to the first-round playoffs this year but got eliminated. With two of our best players injured and a new coach, we just couldn’t pull it off this season. That wasn’t because of me. I’ve played every game and average twenty-four points per game.
Hell, I was MVP when we won the finals. I’m still one of the best players on the team, but none of that seems to matter lately. Some overly enthusiastic fans” antics have gotten out of control. Lies are swirling that I have another child on the way, but that’s biologically impossible. I haven’t been with anyone since before Jasmine was born.
“Truck!” she yells while pointing at the UPS truck across the busy Manhattan street. She bounces in the baby carrier strapped to my body. She’s a tall baby and her head hits my chin.
When the light changes at the intersection of Lafayette and Leonard, I run across the street. A car honks, and when I turn around, a young woman is hanging out the passenger window with her tongue hanging out.
“I’m a certified Sethhead!” she yells. She puts her index and middle finger on each side of her mouth and sticks her tongue in between. I wave, but I don’t do it back like I normally would. That’s how some of my problems started.
It’s with relief that I step inside the New York County Family Court. I exhale and take a deep breath while I bask in the air-conditioned building. July in New York City is not for the faint of heart, especially when you have a fifteen-month-old strapped to your chest.
After that lecture by Mr. Valen, I left his Stamford Connecticut estate, drove home, and walked to the courthouse.
“It’s Seth Wakowski!” someone yells. It’s one of the security guards, and I wish he had a little more tact. Today is not about me. “All the Mischiefs are here today,” he says with way too much excitement for a Wednesday afternoon. “Holy fuck,” he says under his breath. I cover Jasmine’s ears and shake my head at the guard with disapproval. He grins sheepishly.
“O-M-G! Seth!” A woman from the other side of the security desk stands and does the obscene Sethhead movement. She takes it a step further and thrusts her hips three times. I give her a head nod and go through the security routine. I take Jasmine off my chest and put her hand in mine. She hops through the metal detectors, and I walk with her without incident.
“Take your first left, and they are in courtroom one,” one of the guards says. He subtly hands me a notebook and a pen. I scribble my signature and leave the gawking crowd behind. I pick up Jasmine and jog to the courtroom. It’s already full, and I spot my colleague, Colt Chastain, and his wife and kids sitting in the front. Their families as well as most of our team are here.
“Baba,” Jasmine says, pointing at my former coach and his wife. Other than me, Aiden Walsh is her favorite human. I’m glad I had the foresight to make him and his wife her godparents. Jasmine starts to kick her legs, and as soon as I put her down, she runs down the hall and practically climbs over two other people to get to her godfather. When he kisses her cheeks, she squeals in delight. Coach’s wife, Jeannie, reaches over and kisses Jasmine’s cheek too.
I follow my daughter and manage to squeeze into the same bench.
“You’re late,” Coach whispers in my ear. He might not be my coach anymore, but he still acts like it. I don’t mind. He’s the closest thing I have to a big brother and mentor. “I know Wayne summoned you today,” he says with a smirk. He also still knows everything that goes on with the team. I think Mr. Valen is trying to lure him back, but if he had asked me, I would have told him there’s no chance in hell Coach would come back. He’s happy to be at home with his wife every night. I know this because he tells me each time we see each other.
“He told me some old boomer bullshit,” I whisper.
“Pray tell,” Coach says.
“That I should find a wife to run my household. I’ve been running a household since I was a kid. I’m never going to be a simp like you and Chastain,” I whisper again.
I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone to go home to after a game, especially if that person cares about me, but I have no idea how to go about finding that.
“What do you mean by simp?” Coach asks. I don’t trust the question. He knows what a simp is. Coach is a lot of things but he’s neither dumb nor misinformed.
“You know how you and Chastain are always kissing your wife’s butts?” His eyebrows arch to his forehead. “I mean, I saw him holding Vickie’s purse the other day. And remember that time Jeannie called you because she slammed a drawer on her finger, and you ran off to console her? That stuff. That’s being a simp for your woman. You”re simp one, and Chastain is simp two.”
“Oh, right. Gotcha,” he says with an eye roll.
“Yeah. I’m never going to be like that.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, sounding unconvinced. “But you see, I get to go home to this every night.” He reaches over and kisses his wife’s cheek. ”Chastain gets to go home to his wife.” Then he gets close to me and whispers, “Every. Single. Night. Who do you go home to?”
“Jasmine. Duh,” I say, and he grins.
“Seth, what the hell?” Jeannie asks as she gestures at Jasmine. “I showed you color combinations and put a bunch of outfits together for you a few days ago,” she says. “Why the hell is she dressed like this?”
“Yeah, but she got into the drawers and pulled everything out. This isn’t too bad,” I tell her. Jasmine is dressed in pink leggings and a pink tutu. It’s paired with a Mischiefs jersey that has the signature gold and magenta colors. She has a green headband on top of her curly hair because green is her favorite color, and I matched that with her favorite orange high tops.
“Text me pictures of her clothes before you leave the house from now on,” Jeannie whispers. “This is ridiculous.” I shrug, unsure about what her issue is with how Jasmine is dressed.
Coach elbows me in the ribs and says, “Did you hear my wife?”
“Yeah, and I will, but I don’t get why,” I whisper back. “She looks good.” She’s dressed a lot better than I was dressed as a kid. All of her clothes are high-end, unlike the thrift store shit I had. I take my time and pick out her clothes myself. From the time I was eleven, I had to go to the thrift store alone to pick out my own shit.
Coach looks down at Jasmine and back at me. I shrug again, and he shakes his head as if I’m a lost cause. Jasmine stands on Coach’s lap and looks around the room.
“Zohnny,” she yells. She points to the front of the room. Johnny Chastain, my teammate’s one-year-old son must hear his name. He stands on the lap of his uncle and points at Jasmine. They’re barely a month apart and are best friends. Whenever we’re not on the road for a game, we arrange playdates. Vickie Chastain, Johnny’s mother, was a godsend when Jasmine came to live with me full-time. She volunteered to watch her for me whenever I had an away game. Between Vickie and Jeannie and Coach, I didn’t have to worry too much about my daughter.
I never thought I’d be a father at age twenty-one. Then at age twenty-two, I became a single father when Jasmine’s mother left her with me and never returned. After a couple of weeks, Jasmine’s maternal grandmother, Barbara Poynette, showed up at my door, demanding that I hand over Jasmine so she could take her home.
I knew immediately that something was wrong, though she would not admit it. She claimed she was there on behalf of her daughter to pick up Jasmine, but I hadn’t heard from Charlotte since she dropped our daughter off.
Something was wrong with her mother, and I refused to give her my daughter. I knew in my gut she wasn’t right. I know the signs. I’ve dealt with a father who has had mental health issues all my life.
I finally kicked her out when she made a scene in my apartment and threatened to call the police so they could make me give her my child. I called her bluff and dared her to before I lifted her off her feet, put her outside my door, and closed it in her face.
I got a call from Charlotte’s sister, Brandi, minutes later who told me that Charlotte died two weeks prior. They already had a funeral and no one bothered to tell me. No one would give me any details about what happened, and from that moment on, it was me and Jasmine.
I don’t regret anything when it comes to my child. I love my daughter. I’m ashamed to think about how many times I prayed to a higher power not to be her father, but Jasmine is the gift I didn’t know I needed despite juggling single fatherhood and a demanding career that takes me away for so much of the year. Unlike Chastain, who was once a single father too, I don’t have a family to help me.
The woman who raised me, who I thought was my mother, bailed when I was a teenager. I don’t blame her. My father hasn’t left the house in over a decade, and all my uncles are convicted felons. I’ve raised myself, and I’ve always been alone. I’ve never had family at a single one of my games. My team has become my family.
A silver-haired older woman in a black robe comes into the courtroom. Instead of sitting behind the bench, she walks to Chastain and his family. She’s all smiles as she shakes hands with Vickie and Colt. She even takes Johnny in her arms and puts him on her hip. He’s so engrossed by the collar of her robe that he puts it in his mouth and starts to chew on it. The judge, who is old enough to be Johnny’s grandmother, laughs adoringly and runs her free hand over his head. That small gesture reminds me of everything my daughter is missing. She doesn’t have the love of grandparents, aunts or uncles. She has the love of her father. We’ve visited my dad, and while he enjoys spending time with her, he can’t come visit. Or he won’t. I don’t know which, but he’s never been there for me, so why would I expect him to be there for Jasmine?
I clear my throat and push those thoughts away. I’m going to give my daughter the best of everything. Everything money can buy. The best family that I can create for us. I’ve already given her the best godparents, and Johnny’s parents are my friends. They’re my family, and Jasmine doesn’t need what could have been with the people she’s related to by blood.
“And you must be Evan,” the judge says to Chastain’s older son. From my seat, I see Evan stand and shake the judge’s hand. “And I know your dad, Colton Chastain,” she says.
“And that’s my grandma and my Uncle Charlie,” Evan says. He speaks clearly and is articulate beyond his years. “My Uncle Alan is over there.” Evan points across the room, and Vickie’s twin brother waves. “That’s my grandpa next to him. I never had a grandpa before, and he’s the best. He builds forts with us in the living room so we can have sleepovers. I have three other grandmas, my aunt Tara and Uncle Ethan.”
“Big families are the best,” the judge says.
“And this is my mom, Vickie,” he says. “But I only call her Mom.” I can see him blush from here. I also notice he’s wearing a blue suit and white shirt like his dad. Johnny is dressed the same, and Vickie is in a dress in the same shade of blue. “And my cousin and best friend Vincent is over there.” He points to the other side of the room, and a little boy dressed in the same blue suit waves furiously at him.
“And you all make a beautiful family. How lucky am I to make her your official mom? And that’s all this is. This boring part is only making it legal, but she’s already your mom, okay? I’m sure she’s been doing all the things we moms love to do for our kids.” Evan nods in agreement, and I wish I knew what that was. I’ve resigned myself that I’ll never experience that, but what about my daughter? She deserves this type of family too.
“Is there anything else you want to say, Evan?” the judge asks. “The room is yours, and you can talk for as long as you want. Say whatever you want. This is your day, and this is all about you. Everyone in this room showed up here today because they love you.”
Evan looks around the room, but he doesn’t seem nervous. Even at only six, he has a certain confidence to him. Maybe it’s from always knowing that he’s been wanted and loved. He stands as tall as his six-year-old self can stand, and when he looks at his parents, they both nod at him adoringly. He clears his throat and begins.
“My mom is the best. She’s learning to knit with me, and we take a class together every week, but Johnny can’t yet because he’s too little. She lets him play with the yarn sometimes. We compete with my grandma even though she says she can beat our behinds when it comes to knitting.” The room erupts in laughter, and from my seat, I can see Chastain’s mother laughing while looking lovingly at her grandson. “My mom is really smart. She’s so smart that she writes books. And she teaches big kids at a high school. She planned my birthday party and I got to invite the entire class.” The entire room laughs as Evan goes on about how wonderful his mom is. “She lets me have sleepovers, and everyone in the school knows she throws the best ones. Even the girls want to come. She helps me with my homework, and she never gets mad when I get stuff wrong. She lets me help her in the kitchen and we cook together sometimes. She’s the best mom, and I love her a lot.”
“It sounds to me like you’re a very lucky little boy,” the judge says, and Evan nods in agreement. The judge talks for a few more minutes until she finally says, “I’m happy to announce that Victoria Renee Chastain is now the mother of Evan Colton Chastain. Evan, I’m going to let you bang the gavel, and it will be official.” She hands him the gavel and he hits it as hard as he can. Once he does, the entire courtroom stands and cheers. I start chanting Evan’s name, and everyone joins in.
Evan and Vickie hug, but she soon buries her face in Colt’s chest to hide her tears.
“Everyone, come to Sands Point for the party,” Colt says. “Judge McArthur, we’d love for you to come.” He hands the judge a card, and she takes it before reluctantly giving Johnny back. Once she does, she takes Vickie’s hand and the two have a conversation I can’t make out. Vickie wipes a few more tears, and the judge moves on, shaking hands and chatting with all the players.
“We need our favorite coach back,” she says when she gets to Aiden. “And you, young man.” She points in my face. “Behave.” I put both hands up. “These Sethheads have gotten out of hand.”
“I’m being good. I swear,” I say with a grin. She gives me a dubious look before running her hand over Jasmine’s head. Jasmine, who is now pulling on her godfather’s tie.
“Can I ride to the reception with you? I walked,” I say to Coach. “I need to talk to you,” I whisper.
“Come on. My driver’s outside.”