Never Met a Stranger

Chapter 1 At nine o’clock in the morning, Gavin Dozier is pacing the hall of his tiny apartment, waiting for his turn to use the bathroom. Whoever decided one would be sufficient in a two-bedroom place was out of their mind, because he has to be in his office at Richmond State College in a half hour, and that isn’t going to happen. He hasn’t had a shower yet, he needs to brush his teeth, he needs to take a piss, damn it, and the door is firmly shut against him like it’s been for the past twenty minutes, ever since his daughter Evie zoomed past him with the backward cry, “Me first!” What could a seven year old possibly be doing in there for so long? The next time he passes the door, he stops and raps quickly. “Evie, honey? Did you drown in there or something?” “Daddy!” she shrieks. It’s half a shout of independence and half a cry for help. He tries the handle; it turns easily in his hand, but he only opens the door a crack. “Need a hand, sweetie?” “Don’t look!” she shrieks again. At some point after her fifth birthday, Evie began talking in exclamation points. Gavin hopes it’s just a phase she’s going through, but he isn’t so sure. A few female students of his still do the same thing. “I’m not looking,” he promises, placing his free hand over his eyes so she won’t see him peeking through the fingers. He eases the door open further and ducks his head inside the bathroom. The water is running in the sink, there’s toothpaste squirted all over the counter, and the strong scent of honeysuckle fills the air. “Are you finished in here yet, Evie? Daddy needs to use the bathroom, too.” Suddenly his daughter erupts in loud, choking tears. “I’m st-st-st-stuck!” Lowering his hand, Gavin catches sight of Evie perched precariously on the edge of the tub and fights back laughter. Her face is all scrunched up in obvious distress; he can’t so much as smirk if he doesn’t want her to sulk for the rest of the day. But it isn’t the first time he thinks, Kids do the damnedest things. He doesn’t even want to know what happened. One small leg is covered in the opaque white tights Marian says Evie has to wear because she can’t seem to remember to sit like a lady in a dress. The tights are pulled all the way up to her hip on the one side—no underwear beneath them, Gavin notices, which means they’re going to have to come off and go back on again. If it took twenty minutes to get this far, then there’s no way he’s going to make it to college in time to meet with Lacey, or is it Stacy? Maybe it’s Cayce, he isn’t sure, some undergrad in his freshman comp class who wanted advice on an upcoming paper but couldn’t meet during his regular office hours. He told her at the time weekends were bad for him, but she’d insisted. And now this. The tights are only halfway on—the other half dangles into the tub like a shed snakeskin. The tub has a few inches of sudsy water in it, and from the dried rings on Evie’s skin, it’s obvious she didn’t wash the soap off after she attempted to take a bath. Her blond hair hangs in straggly clumps around her shoulders, the ends wet and soapy, the dry crown wispy with flyaway strands. Her bangs have toothpaste in them, for some reason. More toothpaste is smeared across her cheek, and there’s another swatch above one eyebrow. The dress she’d picked out to wear hangs bunched around her neck like a cape. Yeah, they’re not leaving the apartment any time soon. “Honey,” Gavin starts. With a shrill cry, Evie clasps her tiny hands over the front of her flat chest. “Daddy! Don’t look at my nips!” That does it—he can’t help but grin. “Your what?” Her hands reposition themselves over her n*****s. “My nips! Mommy says I can’t let boys see them, so don’t look!” He takes a deep breath and mentally counts to five. Well, to three, that’s as far as he gets before the grin returns. “I’m your daddy,” he points out. “I don’t count.” He’s speaking gently with the misguided notion that if he talks softly enough, she’ll stop with the histrionics. No such luck. Her eyes glisten wetly and she rubs the back of one arm across her nose as she sniffles. Somehow she manages to do so without moving her hands, which are still clamped steadfastly on her chest. “You’re a boy,” Evie says with a pout. “You do too count.” Another thought strikes him, this one disturbing. “Wait, are you showing other boys your…what’d your mother call them, again? Your nips?” Through her tears, Evie giggles. “Noooo,” she says, drawing the word out in such a way that Gavin remains unconvinced. “If I hear about you showing other boys anything, little lady, there’s going to be hell to pay,” he threatens. Evie giggles harder. “You said the H word!” Gavin struggles to keep a straight face. God, to be that young and innocent again, when hell was considered too bad to say out loud! “I’m serious. Now let’s get you dressed.” He eyes the lukewarm water in the tub, the toothpaste smeared everywhere, the wet and wrinkled clothing she managed to half pull on. His mind wants to shut down—it’s almost too much trouble to think through everything he needs to do to get her ready to leave the house. How does Marian manage it on a daily basis? He can barely get through a weekend visitation without feeling overwhelmed. I’m the adult here, he reminds himself. If I don’t take charge, no one will. Grabbing the dress around Evie’s neck, he eases it up over her head and tosses it in the corner. Then he has her stand up so he can shuck off the tights. She plops onto the edge of the tub and lifts her leg as he pulls the tights off, and they join the dress in the corner. Then he unstoppers the tub, lets the water drain away, and turns on the faucet full-blast. “Ever taken a shower?” he asks his daughter. She shrieks again, this time with delight. “No! Mommy says I’m too little.” “You’re just the right age.” Gavin pulls up the shower release, then tugs the curtain across the tub. “Go on, honey. Get in.” Evie shakes her head. Her eyes are huge, her little pot-belly thrust forward over her legs almost belligerently. “I’ll fall down the hole!” “What hole?” Gavin doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “Come on, kid. It’ll take five minutes to clean you up this way. Get in.” “No! The hole!” She starts crying again. Then Gavin gets it. She means the drain. With an exasperated sigh, he leans into the shower and stops up the drain, getting thoroughly soaked in the process. The tub starts to fill immediately. Wiping his damp hair back from his face, he tries again. “There, it’s plugged up. You won’t fall in. Now come on, please? For me?” Evie gives him a distrustful glance, then peers around the curtain into the tub. Satisfied, she hops in and starts laughing as she splashes in the spray. “It’s raining!” Gavin catches sight of his reflection in the mirror above the sink. His blond hair is curling around his ears, the ends dripping water onto his shoulders, discoloring the T-shirt he wore to bed. His hazel eyes are almost golden in the overhead light, but the circles under them look like fresh bruises. He hopes Evie doesn’t use up all the hot water. He’s going to need a long, soothing shower to make it through the rest of this day. He rubs a hand over the stubble on his chin and sighs. Then he pulls out his iPhone to send an e-mail to Lacey—or Stacey, or Cayce—postponing their meeting. It’s already fifteen after nine Saturday morning and the weekend stretches out in front of him like an obstacle course. He’s had Evie with him less than twelve hours, and already he needs a break. How the hell does Marian do it? he wonders.