I sat on the couch with one leg folded underneath me, the other dangling, though I knew it would cause my folded leg to fall asleep. I had an episode of a house-hunting show playing on the screen as I second-guessed myself.Maybe I got it wrong? Maybe when I said “next” Thursday, she thought next-next Thursday.People had different definitions of so many things. Another reason why I should have insisted on talking to Gabriella instead of all that texting. Who signs a six-month lease without going inside a house, anyway?
I felt the tension rise higher inside my body, from my hips up through my stomach.Where is this child? I hope she didn’t have an accident.
When my own children were teens, I had worried myself almost sick when they started driving. So much could go so wrong so quickly. I often wondered how people went about their days so carefree in light of these facts. Maybe you just had to live long enough to fully understand the unseen dangers lurking around every corner.
This living arrangement could go very wrong as well, especially in an unfinished duplex, where we’d still have to share some space. I’d seen enough episodes ofJudge JudyandThe People’s Courtto know that it was hard for friends and family, let alone strangers, to live together in peace.Do I really need a roommate?
I ran the figures through my head again.Yes, I do.
In my peripheral vision, I noticed the streetlight pop on. Glanced at my phone.8:12. No texts from Gabriella. I checked my ringer again to make sure it was on. I even thought about calling the girl—somebody’s daughter—again, but decided that might give “obsessive” vibes if I left yet another message.
Concern mixed with another helping of annoyance by 8:30. Now it was almost dark. Was she still coming? And if so, how in the world would she manage to unpack all her stuff in the dark?
I was limping on my half-asleep leg and had begun closing the blinds and pulling the shades for the evening when I heard the rhythmic thump of bass from a car speaker getting closer. Closer. Stopping in the driveway, to my horror and relief, equally. Gabriella was safe. And late. And loud! But at least I didn’t hear any cussing words in the music.
Through the slightly parted blinds, I watched as Gabriella’s extremely long, curly hair lifted in the wind, almost like one of those “flying dress” pictures. Except she was wearing skinny jeans and a yellow tank top with a picture of a woman popping bubble gum.
My Southern upbringing led me straight to the wordbiracial. After all those classes and trainings on diversity at the school, I somehow still had to check off a box when I met people.
The streetlight caught the girl’s face at an angle that made me soften. She had plump baby-face cheeks. Almost a unibrow. Her tawny skin shone in the light, but that crease between her eyebrow gave off “oldest child” aura. If I hadn’t read through the application meticulously and known Gabriella’s age, I would have guessed thegirl was older than her twenty-six years. Maybe time and stress had done a number on her, too.
The engine died, bringing that ear-popping music to a blessed end.
Gabriella gave her car door a thrust, closing it by virtue of her wide hips. Then she paused, looking at the house like it was the Savior.
I knew exactly how she felt.
But somebody had to teach this child a thing or two about manners. You don’t tell someone you’re coming over in the daytime and show up several hours later, not having called, not responding to texts. It’s just plain rude.
I opened my door, then stepped out on the porch to greet her properly, having hoisted my Parent-Teacher Organization smile in place. “Hello, Gabriella. I’m Joyce. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
She shook my outstretched hand. “Yes, yes, yes, Joyce! So nice to meet you, too!” She tried to lift her voice and be as cheerful as my fake smile, but her words dragged. She must have been tired.
I’d have to take my lecture down a notch. “I was expecting you earlier.”
She looked to my right, at the expanse of our porch. “This is nice.” Then she walked three steps to her door. The distinct smell of garlic trailed her. “Is this my side?”
For some reason, my breath caught as I watched her face for signs of disappointment. Her cheeks actually seemed to rise higher, though. That made mine climb as well.
I responded, “Yes, indeed.”
She pressed her hands together for a few silent claps. “This place is beautiful,” she gushed.
“Thank you. My grandmother lived here.”
She gave an approving nod. “Mind if I put up some fairy lights on my side?”
“No problem.”
I was glad she liked what she saw, but she’d missed the whole part about me waiting up for her for hours. She couldn’t just walk in here late when she wanted to without some kind of communication. “Whew! I was wondering exactly what time you’d get here.”
Gabriella tilted her head and smiled at me. “Aww… That’s so sweet of you to worry about me.”
Sweet? Sweet! There is nothing sweet about worrying for a young girl out in the streets of Robin Creek…Well, itwasRobin Creek. And the streets were far from mean, so I couldn’t give it to her like I would have done for my own kids in Austin. “I just thought you’d be here no later than five. The end of the business day, you know.”
She poked out her lips and scrunched up her face in confusion. “Is there…a problem?”
I wasn’t ready for her to throw a question back at me. “I—I… It’s just…it’s late, and it’s already dark. I tried calling and texting you to see when you’d be here, and I didn’t get a response.”
