Perfectly Adequate(37)

“Stop touching everything, silly.” Lori rolls her eyes at Roman. “We have company, and I don’t think your friend, Dorothy, wants your little fingers touching all the food.”

A small amount of bile works its way up my throat. I just want to ignore his fingers and stay one step ahead of them without imagining eating toddler contaminated food.

“It’s a little chilly out, but we have the porch heaters on, so you can head out that door.” Kent nods to the door that he and Roman came through earlier.

“Okay.” I head out the door and take a seat on one of the comfy outdoor chairs. After I steady my plate on my lap, I text Dr. Hawkins.

Me: I didn’t get your message in time. I’m at your parents’ house. Hope you’re going to make it soon. Don’t kill a patient to get here, but please hurry. (grinning face with sweat emoji)

“I sit by Dorfee!” Roman crawls into the chair next to me.

“Maybe you should sit at your table. It might be easier for you to eat, buddy.” Kent puts Roman’s plate on the little table in the corner of the porch.

“No! Listen, Papa, listen! I sit by Dorfee!”

“I’ll sit by you, Romeo.” I grab my stuff and move to the toddler table, twisting my lips at the little red chair for a few seconds. Surely it will hold me. Easing into it, I smile. “Coming?” I ask him.

Romeo jumps out of the big chair and runs over to the table, taking a seat next to me in the blue chair.

“You really don’t have to.” Kent grins while chuckling.

“I prefer the kids’ table.” I shrug. It’s one hundred percent true.

Lori makes her way out to the porch, letting out a little laugh when she spots me sitting next to Roman. “Your dad’s going to be jealous of you, Roman. You’re stealing his friend.”

Roman plays with his food, ignoring his grandma.

“What’s dis?” Roman jabs his finger into one of the tiny piles of food on my plate.

I freeze, trying to play it really cool. “Um … I’m not sure.”

“Roman Alexander … keep your fingers out of Dorothy’s food!” Lori scolds him. “It’s frittata. Do you want some?”

He removes his finger from my little square of frittata, sticks it into his mouth, and nods.

Lori starts to stand.

“Here. He can just try some of mine.” I lift my plate and hold it next to his while scooping all of it onto his plate.

“You don’t need to give him all of it.” Kent frowns at his grandson.

I expect Lori to rush to get me more, which I don’t want. No. She just smiles at me like I did something right, and she isn’t going to play fixer with the food. Does she know I need to give him all of it after he stuck his finger into it? Maybe. She is a talk doctor. She probably knows my type. But I don’t announce my Aspie status or show them my medical ID bracelet that I don’t have for my neurodivergent condition.

Have I already fucked up my pursuit of acting neurotypical today? Hmm … what tipped her off? Probably the water bottle. I should have just drank the mimosa and asked my parents to come drive me home. That’s what most people would do, right?

“How much more schooling do you have, Dorothy?” Lori asks.

“For nursing?”

She nods. “Yes. Are you getting a degree in something else as well?”

“Not yet.” I shrug. “I have a bachelor’s degree in science. And I’m a CNA and EMT. I hope this nursing thing works out. I’d like to work in the plastics field with Dr. Hathaway. She’s so brilliant.”

Lori continues eating, giving me no visual feedback—that I catch anyway. Maybe she doesn’t realize how brilliant her ex-daughter-in-law is.

“Eli is a brilliant doctor too,” Kent says, first glancing at Lori before smiling at me.

“Yes. He is. But oncology is pretty draining. It’s not like okay versus better—disfiguring scar verses no disfiguring scar. It’s always life versus death. It’s watching parents grasp for false hope. I mean … when the treatment works, it’s phenomenal, but when it doesn’t, it becomes the worst job in the world. ‘How long does my child have?’ Really? Could there be a worse question to have to answer?”

“It’s terribly hard on Eli, but he’s the best at it. He’s always been our most compassionate child, which is interesting since he’s our only boy. And I love that you have such respect for Julie. She is incredibly talented. You couldn’t have a better professional role model.” Lori sips her mimosa.

Professional. Lori stressed that word. At least that’s how it sounded to me. It’s possible they don’t think highly of Julie after she left their son. When I heard the news of their split, I journaled it because everyone wouldn’t stop talking about it. So I worked it out in my mind and put it on paper. That’s when I realized they were too alike. No alpha or beta. No teacher and student. That would be hard for me.

Dr. Hawkins’s physical stature alone gives him an air of dominance, let alone his professional accomplishments. But Boss Bitch could never be a student … a beta … or submissive. No way.

Since she acknowledged the awesomeness of Dr. Hathaway, and has a medical degree of her own, I feel it might be appropriate to list a few of the things I admire most about Boss Bitch. It seems like the perfect conversation and much better than small talk.