Perfectly Adequate(18)

“It’s not a date,” I mumble to myself in the full-length mirror. “It’s dinner with Roman and a woman that might babysit for me.” I laugh at myself while ruffling my damp hair into something resembling a stylish look. When did I start talking to myself? And why are my hands sweaty?

“Listen, Daddy! Listen!” Roman jumps off the bed and runs toward the stairs.

The doorbell rings again.

“Slow down, chief.” I follow him down the stairs. Dorothy is thirty minutes early. “Rules, Roman. You don’t answer the door. Remember?”

He fights with the deadbolt, yanking on the lever handle. “She’s here. Babysitter’s here! Open the door!”

I had to explain the reason for our dinner guest, so I told Roman we were thanking Dorothy for the superhero cape, and that if things went well, she might babysit him sometime. I don’t need a babysitter. I have joint custody of Roman, parents to help out, and two older sisters in Portland who jump at any chance to watch Roman.

“Oh, hey, guys.” I smile at the two young kids at the door, selling something. Someone is always selling something. I have a credenza by the door with cash in a drawer for all the kids in the neighborhood who come around raising money for activities like Little League and band trips.

We make our usual exchange of money and a handshake promise that they’ll eventually return with ten tubs of popcorn or whatever I just purchased for thirty dollars. Just as I start to close the door, a familiar white Audi Q5 parked across the street catches my attention.

“I think that’s Dorothy’s car. Think we should go see?”

“Yes! Come on, Daddy. Let’s go!” He runs into the yard, no shoes. I quickly catch up to him, scooping him into my arms. “Let me down. Down, Daddy!” He giggles as I vibrate my lips onto the tiny areas of exposed belly. “Stop!”

I shift him upright onto my hip and knock on Dorothy’s window.

She jumps, closing the visor mirror and meeting my gaze with her wide eyes. Dorothy’s freshly glossed lips pull into a tiny smile as she rolls down her window. “Hi. I’m early. I just wanted to make sure I knew where I was going.”

“Hi.” I have more to say, but I just want to stand here and let her obvious excitement to see me soak into my skin, all the way to my bones. I’ve nearly forgotten what that look of adoration—from someone who isn’t my mom—feels like. It’s pretty damn good.

“Hi, Dorfee,” Roman greets her while pressing in on my cheeks, making my lips into fish lips.

“Hi, little Romeo.” The corners of her mouth continue to climb up her face.

He giggles. “My name is Roman!” My cheeks take the brunt of his excitement as he relaxes the pressure on my lips, but only to play a tough game of patty-cake with my face.

“Let’s ask Dorothy if she wants to come inside.”

“Dorfee, you come inside. Pa-sicle, Daddy!”

I step back and open her door, unearthing a bit of ingrained manners. “Pasta before popsicles, little man.”

“Thank you.” Dorothy climbs out, wearing a pink skirt that flows just below her knees, a pink and yellow floral, sleeveless blouse, and white flats.

“You uh …” I clear my throat. “Have something on your cheek.” I point to my own cheek in the same spot as the brown smudge on her face.

Her hand flies to her cheek, rubbing it furiously. “It’s chocolate. I was just checking my face when you knocked on my window. I stopped for ice cream on my way here.”

I chuckle. “You’re making this tough on me. I won’t let Roman have a Popsicle before dinner, but you stopped for ice cream?”

“Yes. In case dinner doesn’t go well.”

I head toward the house with Roman on my shoulders and Dorothy right beside me. “Not well as in my culinary skills, or not well as in bad company?”

“I don’t know yet.”

I glance over, but she gives nothing away. That’s okay with me. I want to discover the layers of Dorothy Mayhem by following her pace. Julie crippled me in a way that feels equally devastating and pathetic. There’s no switch to turn off my love for her, all those years of marriage, college, careers, a child … I wonder if I’ll ever find a switch, or if I’ll simply have to find a brighter light.

At the moment, Dorothy shines, and it thrills me because I can’t pinpoint what it is about her that brightens my day.

“Mmm … it doesn’t smell bad in here.” Dorothy closes her eyes, taking a slow inhale after I shut the front door behind us and set Roman down to go play with his toys.

I wait for her to open her eyes. One, because I like looking at them. Two, because I like how they look at me.

When she grins, I can’t help but wonder if she tastes like chocolate, if she closes her eyes when she kisses, or if her mind goes to the same questionably inappropriate places mine does.

“I’m trying really hard to think the best of your comments. Can I take the not bad as meaning good? Or is that too presumptuous? Does your not bad mean not awesome but it could be worse?”

Slipping off her flats, she wiggles her toes painted in white toenail polish and stares at them while she delivers her answer. “Definitely good. Not meaty or spicy. I’m already regretting the tacos.” Her nose wrinkles.

“Tacos?”