“How are things?”
He hesitated. “Not bad. Not sure if your mother mentioned it, but Rob’s looking at property. Might buy his own place soon.”
“You approve?” I guessed.
“Yep. It’s about time. Do you need anything?” Dad was taciturn at the best of times, prone to showing his affection in gestures more than words.
“Nah. Mom already asked. How’s work?”
“I’m building a strip mall right now. Bit of an eyesore but it’s a living.”
His calm pragmatism reminded me of countless problems over the years. When the chain broke on my bike, he was there with the tools to fix it. “I miss you, Dad.”
“Back at you. Talk soon.” He hung up soon after.
When I went to the kitchen for some water, Lauren had nodded off on Angus’s shoulder, and Max was gone. I didn’t ask; Angus didn’t tell me. With a silent wave, I got my drink and went out onto the balcony to look at the stars. Exhaling in a slow sigh, I listened to the crickets, eventually joined by the low murmur of a man’s voice.
The window must be open in the bedroom downstairs.
It sounded like somebody—Ty?—was reading Goodnight Moon, in a tone that suggested he’d done it a hundred times before. A much lighter voice spoke in response and then there was silence. That’s definitely a kid.
I didn’t realize I’d leaned forward until a noise below froze me. Ty stepped out into his courtyard. In the moonlight, it was beautiful: solar lamps by the fence, a potted herb garden, hanging baskets of flowers and wicker furniture padded with striped cushions. My first thought was that a woman must live with him because a guy wouldn’t take such good care of his patio. Then I chided myself for being judgmental; I hated when people made assumptions about me, based on my height and build.
You must play basketball. No? Well, what’s your favorite sport?
As I thought that, he did the most peculiar thing. He walked to the edge of the wooden fence, rested his head on it, balled up a fist and pressed it to the back of his head. Not exactly what I’d do if I had a headache. More...exhaustion, despair or some emotion I couldn’t name. This felt too personal for me to watch, and I hadn’t meant to. But if I moved, he’d hear me.
Just then, like he sensed me watching, Ty turned and looked up. In the dark, I couldn’t see his eyes, but I recalled them as golden-brown with all the sharpness of a hunting hawk. For some reason, I couldn’t move; I didn’t dare straighten. I didn’t want him to think he’d driven me off my balcony, but I wasn’t spying, either. We just stood there staring at each other, not stirring, not speaking. He didn’t smile. Tension raveled between us in silvery skeins, pulled taut by his silence and my stillness.
Then he quietly went back inside, snapping our momentary connection with a certainty that stung on the recoil.
CHAPTER TWO
The next day, I had to work.
My gig at the day-care center was better than most college jobs. This summer, they gave me more hours, as I covered shifts for teachers taking vacations. As of this week, I’d cut back to part-time, and they were great about scheduling around my classes. On Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I worked in the afternoons. Tuesday and Thursday, I had the morning shift. Occasionally, the director assigned me to assist in a particular classroom, but usually I floated, helping out wherever they needed me.
I owned one of the two cars; Angus drove the other. For obvious reasons, his was much nicer, but my Toyota had heart. It had a zillion miles when I bought it four years ago, and it was still puttering on. Max had a motorcycle that he had been restoring for as long as I’d known him, but between school and work, he didn’t get to spend as much time on it as he’d like. Consequently, the thing ran only half the time, and at the moment, it was a big paperweight. But my ride started right up, no problem delivering me to work on time.
On arrival, they put me in with the two-year-olds, about as exciting as you’d expect. The lead teacher’s name was Charlotte Reynolds, and she had an associate’s degree in early childhood education. She was a sweet woman in her mid-thirties, usually patient, but she seemed a little frazzled this morning. Alongside her, I kept the kids from hurting each other, gave them things to color, supervised lunch and then nap time. In the afternoon, they played in the yard, more coloring, some educational activities, and at four-thirty, I sighed with relief that the day was almost over.
“They were stubborn today,” Charlotte muttered.
“This is the last full shift for me,” I reminded her.
“I’m aware. I hope your junior year’s the best yet.”
I nodded, tidying up the room as we talked. By six, all of the kids had gone, and we were free to head out. Tiredly I trudged out to the Toyota and drove home, though I made a wrong turn by reflex, heading toward the dorms instead of our new apartment. With a muttered curse, I swung a U-turn and corrected course, pulling into the parking lot behind a silver Ford Focus. I spotted Ty getting out of the car, but I didn’t say anything. After last night on the balcony, I didn’t want him to think I was the overinvolved neighbor from hell. I pulled my tote bag out of the backseat, imprinted with the day-care center’s logo, some blocks and a rainbow—crafty, since the name was ABC Rainbow Academy. I locked up and headed past, trying to avoid tension and accusations.
But he acted like the night before never happened, his attention drawn by my bag. “Hey, do you work there?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Would you recommend it?”
Goodnight Moon. Right. Wonder if there’s a Mrs. Hot Ginger. Guilt pinged through me for pondering his marital status; it was weird to be this curious, even if he was seriously appealing. Wait, what did he ask me again?
I stopped on the front step and nodded, launching into my spiel. “The teachers are well trained and the facility is clean. The curriculum is balanced. It’s not a Montessori place, but it’s solid pre-K education, combined with good socialization and excellent supervision. We haven’t had a serious accident in the year I’ve been working there.”
“That’s a sound recommendation. Do you have a card?”
I did, actually, and went digging for it. My tote was a colorful mess of pictures the kids had made for me over the summer. Since I was shifting back to part-time, I’d brought some stuff home. Like most teachers, though I wasn’t supposed to show bias, I had a few favorites at Rainbow Academy.
“Here you go. Ignore the note on the back.”
He flipped the card over immediately. I got the sense that if you told Ty the paint was wet, he’d put a palm in it to test you. “‘Erin, Lubriderm, three times a day.’ Should I even ask?”
“A toddler came in with eczema last week. Her parents aren’t big on organization.”
His brows went up. “So that’s their idea of care instructions?”
“Yep. Don’t worry, she’s better. I looked after her.” I smiled at him; his look lightened in response, like toddler rashes were in any way amusing. “The director’s name and phone number are on the front. You can make an appointment for a tour.”
“Thanks.”
Though I suspected the older woman I’d spoken to yesterday must have been his sitter, I didn’t ask. I chose not to give him an excuse to tell me how badly he needed to get home. So I just waved and went upstairs, leaving him with Erin’s care instructions and the info about my employer. In the apartment, Max was watching a movie.
“Productive day?” I asked.
“Not really. Tomorrow’s soon enough to start being ambitious.”
I wasn’t sure that word ever applied to Max, but his grades weren’t as bad as you’d expect from someone who partied all the time. As for me, I’d already bought my textbooks online in digital form, so I could go straight to campus with my tablet and a note-taking app. Leaving the dorm won’t disrupt my routine. I hope. This semester, I had four classes, along with a practicum, where I’d work in the classroom two days a week at the local junior high. Not student teaching; I wouldn’t start that un
til my senior year.
“Where are the other two?” I asked.
“Lauren’s at work, and Angus is shopping. He said he’ll drive her home later.” He paused, grinning at me. “If only there was some way you could keep in touch, other than passing messages through me.”
“Whatever.”
After rinsing off a day of sticky fingerprints, I fixed a bowl of cereal and sprawled on the couch. I was too late to make sense of Max’s movie, but it didn’t matter since I was just killing time until our roomies got home. If I wasn’t comfortable ignoring Max, I never would’ve agreed to live with him. Eventually, I got bored and finished hanging the pictures, though I tried to do it quietly to avoid bothering the downstairs neighbor.
Weirdly, I was a little disappointed that Ty didn’t come up to yell at us, even after Lauren and Angus got back at ten. But they were both too tired to hang out, so I ended up on the balcony again. I told myself I wasn’t going out there to spy, just to enjoy some tea before bed. At some point, while the rest of us were gone, Max must’ve put a chair out there, a wooden Adirondack. It faced sideways and took up most of the space, but it was surprisingly nice. Peaceful.
This time, Ty wasn’t by the fence. Relief shot through me. I didn’t care to interrupt another private moment. I wasn’t doing anything wrong, sitting on my balcony with a mug of Sleepytime tea, but it was a gray area since I could so easily invade his privacy. Tonight he was on the wicker love seat, and the empty spot beside him struck me as oddly poignant. I studied him as I sipped my drink. He had a backlit e-reader out there with him, head bent so the moon gilded lighter streaks in his coppery hair.
“You’re quite a devoted stargazer,” he said without looking up from his book. His voice was soft enough that I barely heard it...but he was speaking to me. Again.
I wondered why that was so thrilling. Calm down, he might be married. Taken. Something. He’s definitely in the market for day care, and—maybe I’m overthinking this.
“I just like it out here,” I answered, just as quietly.
Somehow this felt like a secret between the two of us. His spot and now mine—apparently, he didn’t mind sharing the night with me. I didn’t want to bother Angus or Max with our talk, and I’d rather Lauren didn’t join the convo, either. No need for self-analysis, right?
“The best part about living here.”
“What’re you reading?”
His answer came slow, as if he was a little unsure whether he should encourage me. “Some chapters for class tomorrow.”
“Oh, you’re a student? I thought you must have an office job already.”
“I do.”
“Night school?” I guessed.
“Yeah.”
“What are you studying?” I was conscious this was becoming more of an interrogation, so I resolved not to ask anything else unless he reciprocated. This was weirdly intimate, not being able to see his face, just the softness of our voices in the dark, warm air, perfumed with the flowers he’d planted below.
“Architecture.”
“Sounds interesting,” I said, and only just managed to keep from asking more questions in quick succession. How many years do you have left? What’s your day job? What kind of things do you want to build someday?
Honestly, until Ty, I had never been the irrepressibly nosy type. Something about him just made me want to dig and find out all the secret, hidden things. The impulse was a little alarming. In silence, I sipped my tea, thinking he was done with small talk for the night.
Then he said, “What about you?”
It felt momentous, which was pretty absurd. “I’m in my third year studying special education.” More than he’d asked, as that would give him a ballpark estimate of my age.
If he was interested.
But probably not.
In general, a certain type of guy went for me. They were usually sporty, extra tall, into outdoor activities, searching for a rugged girl to rock climb, go camping and be extreme with. That was definitely not my deal, even though I stood 5’11 in flats, and I put on muscle pretty easily. I worked out three times a week for my health, not because I was an athlete.
“That explains the day-care center,” he said as he stood. “I’m going in now. Good night, Nadia.”
A little shiver went through me, so stupid, because he remembered my name. My toes curled as he said it, and I hated that I was slightly breathless when I whispered, “’Night, Ty.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice piped up, He has a kid. This is crazy. But the logical reminder didn’t dispel his pull.
The next day, I found all my classes without problems, listened to first-class type of instructions and picked up course materials, and then I raced to work. It was a blur, and I didn’t get out until nearly seven. The delinquent father showed up muttering about a traffic jam, but this was a town, not a city. Since his kid had been crying for an hour, afraid she’d been forgotten, again, I wasn’t in the best mood when I left. Singing too loud to the radio burned off most of my annoyance, and I was okay by the time I got back to the apartment. But I sighed as I went up; our music was cranked enough that I could hear every note. I braced for another complaint, but it was hard to stay mad when I opened the door to find Max pretending to be a DJ while Angus and Lauren danced their asses off.
I smirked. “This is the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Max responded with his signature grin. “Come on, use your imagination. Think how great it’ll be this weekend.”
“I’m not ready for that jelly.”
“Nobody is.” Lauren drew me into the impromptu dance party, and I had never been able to resist her when she was in a good mood.
“Did something awesome happen?” I asked while shimmying.
Angus, it should be said, was the best bad dancer ever. Every dated move, he knew it—from lawnmower, running man, sprinkler to electric slide. I had a hard time watching him without laughing, but that was kind of the point. He was never happier than when he made his friends bust a gut.
“Yes.” Lauren threw her arms in the air and twirled.
Angus kept dancing.
“No. Not the robot. I can’t take it. I’m tired and hungry. Just tell me your news, LB.” Her last name was Barrett.
“Okay, I don’t want to hurt you.”
Angus started singing “Do You Really Want to Hurt Me” while dancing in circles around us. That made Max laugh so hard he fell off the stool he’d set up, and he dropped the plates he was using as mock turntables. I could only imagine how noisy this was downstairs, but I hated to mention that while Lauren was so jacked up with excitement.
“Spill it already,” I demanded, flopping onto the couch.
“I just worked my last shift at Teriyaki King. The career center finally came through and got me a decent campus job. I’ll be working as an assistant in the fine arts building.”
“Doing what?” Anything would likely be better than the food court, though.
“Answering phones, sending emails, filing, running errands. But only daytime hours, weekends off.”
Max finally got off the floor. “See? That demands a party, a real one. I’ll see what I can put together this weekend.”
“Congrats, dude. Let me wash the kid goo off and then we’ll figure out dinner.”
“I brought home chicken,” Lauren informed me. “Not from TK.”
Blowing her a kiss over my shoulder, I said, “I knew there was a reason I love you better than all other Laurens.”
“Just the Laurens?” she yelled after me. “I need to try harder.”
During dinner, Angus turned off the music so we could actually hear each other talk. At least that was what he claimed, but I shot him a look that said you’re not fooling me; you’re being superconsiderate right now. He only smiled, even when Max gave him metric tons of shit about turning into an old man before his time.
So due to Angus, we didn’t get an angry visit from our neighbor, and when I went out to the balcony
with my tea, feeling like this could become a ritual, the patio below was empty. Disappointment swept over me in an embarrassing rush, and I was glad I hadn’t said anything to Lauren about Ty. Nothing’s going on. You’re so weird. To prove it didn’t bother me, I drank all my tea before heading inside. But long after I snuggled in, listening to Lauren wheeznore, which she claimed not to do, I rubbed my chest against an ache that shouldn’t be there.
In the morning, I overslept, and I rushed out the door, straightening my work polo. No time for breakfast, which made me cranky. Maybe if I’m lucky, Louisa will fix me a snack on the sly. A portly woman on the wrong side of sixty, she was the cook at Rainbow Academy, and she was always trying to feed me. Usually, I didn’t let her.
At my car, I stopped, puzzled, staring at the white square of folded paper tucked neatly under my windshield. Probably a flyer. I grabbed it and tossed it on the passenger seat; I didn’t have time to check out what product or service someone was selling. As I drove, the air from the vents shifted the page, so I could read the single line written on it.
Sorry I missed you last night. Ran late.
My heart did that weird twisty-aching thing again, and I swallowed hard. Last night I figured I was alone in wanting to see him out there. To him, I must be the noisy, annoying upstairs neighbor who sounded like ten herds of goats tromping around.
But then he left this. So maybe he likes talking to me.
Such a small thing, but that flicker of excitement carried me through a morning of calming fussy babies and all my afternoon classes. Today marked the end of getting to know you, and the rest of the week, professors should get serious with assignments. Though I wasn’t looking forward to that, I couldn’t wait to meet the students I’d be working with at Calvin Coolidge Junior High, aka C-Cool. That nickname was supposed to make the school seem more badass and street, but since it was mostly attended by white kids, it didn’t help much.
I got in early, just past four, and nobody else was in the apartment. I skimmed the lot for a silver Focus, but I didn’t see Ty’s car. He’d mentioned night classes, but I had no idea how often he took them. The more I learned about him, the hungrier I became to discover more.