Never Met a Stranger

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Gavin navigates the downtown streets on his way to campus without really seeing anything beyond his windshield. From the backseat where she sings loudly and off-key, Evie is distracting, interrupting herself every few minutes to ask him something. At first he doesn’t realize the song has ended, and she shrieks, “Daddy!” to get his attention.

“What is it?” His heart hammers with a rush of adrenaline as he hits the brakes and looks around wildly.

Behind him, Evie giggles. “Do you want me to sing my favorite song ever?”

Slowly he relaxes. “Sure, honey. That’d be nice.”

Then she launches into something he vaguely recognizes from the radio—is it Katy Perry? He isn’t sure. The next time Evie stops to draw in a breath, he asks, “What song is that?”

“Daddy, you ruined it!” she cries. “Now I have to start again.” And she clears her throat like an opera singer warming up for a big aria before she begins to belt out the tune a second time.

The trip to campus seems to take longer than it does during the week, when he has to contend with rush hour traffic in the hopes of making it to his morning classes in time. Now he’s only half paying attention to the road, and Evie crooning in his ear is bringing back his headache. He wonders how horrible a father he’d be if he plopped her down in a seat at the movies and took a nap outside in the car while she watched her film.

The fast-food place where he’s supposed to meet the student is within walking distance from his office. Parking is at a premium downtown, so he’s glad he has a permit for one of the three reserved spots right in front of Marshall Hall, which houses RSC’s meager English department. The space is empty on Saturdays, and Gavin feels an absurd sense of privilege when he pulls in. Both sides of the street are jam-packed with cars, and further down in front of a student apartment, there’s a scooter illegally parked on the sidewalk, and a moving van double-parked with its hazards blinking. As he gets out of his car, Gavin imagines people up and down the block peering from their upper-story windows, glaring at him for snagging such prime real estate.

Faculty, bitches, he thinks with a grin.

Inside the car, Evie has unbuckled herself from her booster seat and fumbles with the door, but the child-proof lock must be engaged because she can’t get it open. “Daddy!” she cries, frantic, as if there’s any possible way he might wander off and forget to take her along. “I’m stuck! Don’t leave me!”

He opens the door and holds it wide as she rushes out. “I’m not going anywhere without you,” he promises. “Hold my hand!”

She’s still young enough to think nothing of it, and she swings his hand in hers as they walk. In another few years, she’ll be too cool to even be seen with him. She’s still singing, though he can barely hear her now that she isn’t directly behind his head. Every so often she smiles up at him, and he grins down at her, happy for this one moment in time. Don’t let her grow up, he prays, knowing it’s a futile wish but wanting it to happen all the same.

Noodles is two blocks away. Evie is overly cautious whenever they have to cross the street, forcing him to wait until the pedestrian sign flashes the go-ahead before they step out into the crosswalk. “Mommy says wait for the little man,” she tells him.

“But there’s no one coming,” he protests.

Evie won’t hear it. She tugs on his hand and refuses to budge when he tries to step off the curb. “Mommy says.”

He wonders if there’s anything he’s told her that she relays to Marian with such unwavering faith, but he can’t think of anything. He’s sure Evie will have plenty to say about this weekend, though, starting with the fact that he didn’t make her wear tights under her dress. He can already hear Marian complaining about that.

As they approach the restaurant, he sees a young woman waiting by the door, a clutch of books held tightly to her chest. Gavin tries to remember if this is the same student he’s supposed to meet, but he can’t really put a face to the name—or rather, the names. When they get closer, though, he recognizes her from his morning comp class. She waves when she sees him. “Professor D, hey!”

She talks in exclamation points, too. And here he is hoping Evie grows out of it someday.

Fortunately he doesn’t have to admit he doesn’t remember her name, because when she sees Evie, the student drops into a squat and introduces herself. “Hi, there! I’m Macy. I’m in your daddy’s class.”

Macy, got it. That wasn’t even one of the names he’d remembered.

“I like your hair,” Evie says, reaching out a small hand to touch the glossy blonde braid hanging over Macy’s shoulder. “Can you braid my hair? Daddy couldn’t get it right so I got these instead.” She flicks one of her ponytails, obviously annoyed.

Macy glances at Gavin. “We’ll see. How about a bite to eat?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, but stands and smiles at him. “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me, Professor D. Your daughter’s adorable. She looks just like you.”

“Actually, she favors her mother.” Gavin opens the door to the restaurant and holds it for Evie.

When Macy dips in under his arm, he sees her looking at his hand for a ring. Obvious, much?

Her smile widens when she doesn’t see a wedding band. “Your wife must be a beautiful woman then,” she says.

Gavin has to admit, “Oh, I’m not married.”

“Girlfriend?” Macy presses.

He shakes his head once and turns away, curbing the conversation. When he started teaching, he was flattered by students who flirted with him…until he realized they weren’t so much interested in him as they were in their grades. Now he notices it’s mostly freshmen who hit on him, male and female alike, and they fall into two groups: Those who always brown-nose a teacher, regardless of their grades, and those like Macy, who struggle in class and aren’t above a little action to increase their chances of passing. Freshman comp is an easy course but it’s a requirement for all students, regardless of major, and many of the kids haven’t bothered writing anything longer than a text message since elementary school. The five page personal essay can seem like a doctoral thesis when you’re used to bite-sized tweets and chat-speak.

In line to order, Gavin turns his attention to his daughter. “Honey, what would you like to eat?”

“I don’t know what they have,” Evie whines.

“Noodles,” he says, as if that explains it. From the way she frowns up at him, though, he realizes he’ll have to be a bit more explicit. “You know, like pad Thai? Or, um, buttered noodles, spaghetti, mac and cheese—“

“Mac and cheese!” Evie crows, loud enough that a few people in front of them turn to smile at her. “Cheesy mac, Daddy. That’s what I want.”

Gavin grins. “Did you just call me the Mack Daddy?”

Another frown. With a playful tug on one of her ponytails, he says, “Never mind. That’s before your time. Go find us a seat, will you?” When she starts to speak, he nods. “Yes, I’ll get you cheesy mac. Get us a table, okay?”

She skips away into the dining area, and suddenly Macy is there beside him, her breasts lightly pressing against his arm. “I love kids,” she says with a sigh. “I bet you’re an awesome dad.”

He steps back, putting some much needed space between them. “I promised to take her to the movies after lunch, so hopefully we’ll be able to get you started in the right direction on your paper. If not, I do have office hours Monday afternoon.”

Her smile fades. “Oh, yeah. My paper. Sure.”

Gavin makes a mental note not to agree to a student conference over lunch again anytime soon.