Perfectly Adequate(36)

I feel bad for Julie. She seems nervous. Not at all like my boss bitch idol.

“You too. See you around at the hospital.”

She nods, sliding on her sunglasses as she walks back to her vehicle, dressed in fitted jeans, a gray sweater, and black ankle boots. Her red hair hangs long and wavy around her shoulders instead of in a ponytail or messy bun like it does at work. At least she looks like I imagined Boss Bitch would look like outside of the hospital—casual but still very classy.

“Come in, Dorothy. Did you get Eli’s message? He had an emergency. He’ll get here as soon as he can. We didn’t know if you’d show up or not. He said he’d give you the option of coming another Sunday. But I’m so glad you decided to come today.”

I glance at my watch. Yep. There’s a message from him. How did I miss that?

Dr. Hawkins: Hi. I’ve been called in for an emergency. I’m hoping to still make it for brunch. You’re welcome to go there and hang out with Roman and my parents, but I assume you’ll choose a different day when I’m not running late. Call you later! Or I might see you at the hospital if you decide to go in now.

Just … great. I smile. “Missed his message. I’ll reschedule for another Sunday.” I turn, taking steps toward my car.

Oh my god! I didn’t have to be here! Why am I here?

“Wait? No! You should stay, Dorothy. I would absolutely love for you to stay. My daughters couldn’t make it today, so it’s just Roman, Kent, and me … and of course Eli when he shows up.”

I don’t want to stay.

Nope.

No way.

Five years earlier, I would have kept shaking my head, slid into my car, and skidded out of their driveway. But I no longer act on total impulse all the time. I’ve practiced deciphering neurotypicals, imagining what they would do in my situation, and reacting/mimicking accordingly.

“Thank you for the kind offer.” I turn, plastering on a smile. “But I’m a vegetarian. I’d hate for you to have to deal with my dietary restrictions. Have a lovely day.”

Have a lovely day seems to make everything okay, like the time I told Kelsey, one of the X-ray techs, that her deodorant had worn off and she was emitting an offensive odor. At first she gasped, which led me to believe I’d worded the FYI incorrectly, but then I followed it up with “have a lovely day,” and she nodded slowly while hugging her arms to her chest. Aspies may not be best friends, but we are the most honest ones.

“Eli told me. Everything I made for brunch today is vegetarian with lots of cheese. He said you have a thing for cheese.”

He did, did he?

She has a better hand of cards today, so I take a deep breath and retreat toward the house. There is nothing I love more than spending time with strangers, eating food they make that I probably won’t like, and making small talk—the hardest thing in the world for me to do.

Lori leads me to her kitchen. It’s big and clean. Tons of food fills a buffet table behind a large dining room table adorned with a sprawling bouquet of fresh flowers, real plates and flatware, and cloth napkins. It looks like a nice restaurant. Even the trays of food are garnished with herb springs and fresh fruits.

“Whoa, this is quite the brunch. I honestly imagined coffee, bagels, bacon, and maybe a few donuts.”

“Sounds like continental breakfast at a hotel.” She laughs. “I’m all about presentation.”

Me too.

Only, I have to work really hard at it, and rarely do I one hundred percent nail it.

“Kent?” she calls out the back door. “Let’s eat. Bring Roman.”

“What can I get you to drink, Dorothy? Do you like mimosas?”

“Yes. But I’m driving so I’ll pass?”

“You can just do orange juice. It’s fresh squeezed.”

Fresh squeezed, as in she fondled the oranges and squeezed them … maybe with her hands. “I have my water bottle in my bag.” I pull it out of my handbag.

“You sure?”

I nod.

“Please, grab a plate and help yourself.”

First through the line. I can do this. Yes … she probably touched everything on these platters, but I choose to believe she wore gloves. And first through the line means no one else has had a chance to touch the food first or sneeze on it. I grab a plate and silverware. Real silverware, not the plastic kind that tastes like plastic. Yuck!

“Dorfee!” Roman rushes in with a tall, older version of Dr. Hawkins behind him—a few more wrinkles, gray mixed with dark blond hair, and a more pronounced receding hairline. He’s dressed in jeans and a Trailblazer sweatshirt.

“Dorothy, this is my husband Kent. Kent, this is Eli’s friend, Dorothy.”

“Papa, Dorfee is a superhero.” Roman reaches for a plate behind me. Kent quickly grabs it from him.

“Nice to meet you, Dorothy.” Dr. Hawkins has his father’s smile.

I return a genuine grin. It isn’t awful here—yet. Just the four of us. I can do it. With a few deep breaths … I can handle brunch with strangers.

“Show me what you want, Roman,” Kent adds food to Roman’s plate after Roman pokes the things he wants with his finger.

I keep reminding myself I’m first in line, and clearly there will be no second trip for me, even if I do like the food. It’s not that I don’t adore Romeo, but I know darn well the chances that he spent most of the ride to their house with that same finger stuck up his nose are pretty good.