Perfectly Adequate(24)

“I’d planned on it, but I had an emergency.”

I nod slowly, feeling melancholy from the past few weeks. It’s not just Emily dying or even the botched dates (or whatever they were) with Dorothy. Everything has simmered into a feeling of failure and loneliness.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Emily?”

Mom nods, peeling the lid from her salad.

“No.”

“Okay. Is Roman excited for his trip?”

“Yes.”

She shoots me a half grin and a single lifted eyebrow. “That’s it. Just yes? What’s wrong?”

“Why does something have to be wrong?” I stare out her window.

“Because this is where you fall apart. This is where you tell me how unfair it is that Julie is taking Roman to Texas for the first time, and it upsets you that she’s experiencing a ‘first’ with him because you didn’t sign up to be a single parent and miss out on half of his childhood.”

I shrug. “See. You already know my feelings on it, so no need to repeat it.”

“So this mood is about Emily. I know you had high hopes for that new chemo, but—”

“It’s not about Emily,” I reply with a little more aggravation than she deserves. “And I didn’t have high hopes. I simply had concrete reasoning to believe that it would work. It worked on five other patients. So my hopes aren’t dashed. I’m simply pissed off and ready to get to work on figuring why it didn’t work for Emily.”

“Well, okay. It’s not about Emily. I’m here if and when you’re ready to discuss what really has you worked up today.” She takes a bite of her salad.

I blow out a long, slow breath, keeping my gaze away from her knowing inspection of me. “I’ve been kinda seeing Dorothy recently.”

“Transporter Dorothy? Superhero cape Dorothy?”

I nod.

“Wonderful! Is that going well?”

“Yes and no. She gets along really well with Roman. She calls him little Romeo, and for whatever reason, that makes me like her that much more. But I’ve failed at asking her out on a real date. I mean … I’ve tried, but she always assumes it’s a playdate with Roman—like I’m vetting her for a babysitter. And I’ve had serious issues getting the nerve to say otherwise because this part of me wonders if she thinks I’m too old for her, or maybe I’m just not her type. And yes, I’m afraid of rejection.”

Mom chuckles. She doesn’t extend me the same level of professionalism as she does to her patients. Another downside to the family discount.

“So did you hire her to babysit Roman?”

“No!” My frustration even surprises myself. I rub my temples. “I kissed her. And by kissed her, I mean I think I scared her to death or completely offended her. Hell, she’ll probably file a sexual harassment complaint against me.” I shake my head. “I’m out of practice, for reasons you know. So I won’t rehash all of it, but this single life doesn’t fit me. Or maybe it does. Maybe the point is I’m supposed to stay single. Clearly something about me drives women away.”

“Okay. Time out. I draw the line when you start picking on my baby. My handsome, talented, caring beyond words, baby boy. There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with Julie or Dorothy. We’ve been over this. Relationships are fluid and ever-changing. People are fluid and ever-changing. Honor who you are, not who you aren’t. Let people come and go from your life without feeling the need to catch them and keep them. Stop looking at the wrong reflections. Your happiness is a reflection of you and only you. I’m sure you’ve broken many hearts without even knowing it. I know nurses at the hospital think you’re a god. If you don’t give them a second glance, does that mean something is wrong with them?”

I rub my chin, letting her words sink in, but it’s hard because all I can think about is Dorothy Mayhem. “I can’t stop thinking about her. And I have no idea why.”

“Julie?”

“Dorothy.” I give Mom a sheepish glance.

A record breaking grin steals her whole face. “Tell me more.”

I feel my own grin do its thing, and I don’t even try to hold back because my Dorothy grin has a mind of its own—an uncontrollable force. “It’s ridiculous. Just so ridiculous. We’ve had a handful of interactions, but if I’m completely honest, my addiction …” I roll my eyes at myself. “Yes … an addiction that started the second she walked onto the elevator weeks ago wearing these outrageous red shoes and a look on her face that did something so profound to me in that moment … I can’t find the words to explain it. I just knew something in my life shifted and would never be the same. And yes, I know how completely ridiculous that sounds. How girly, chick-flick movie that sounds. But again, if I’m honest, that’s what happened. And now I can’t stop thinking about her. When I’m physically near her, I feel like I did before I met Julie.”

“You were a teenager when you met Julie.”

“Exactly! Dorothy makes me feel like a stupid, word-fumbling teenager. But she also makes me feel like I have a new chance at life. One where I see things through her eyes.”

Mom chews her salad, head cocked a bit. Then she points her fork at me. “And how do things look through her eyes?”