Perfectly Adequate(43)
“Okay.” She grins.
“Okay …” I challenge her with my very own guilty-as-hell, shit-eating grin. “So, what’s on your agenda for the rest of the day?”
She glances at her watch. “Aside from keeping a close eye on Dr. Hawkins and his daily activity, not much. I’m supposed to be at work, so I might get some extra reading time in and gaming.”
“No studying?”
“Nah, I don’t have to study much. I mean sometimes I have to study, but nothing today.”
“Smart girl, huh?”
Dorothy shrugs. “I suppose. It’s just easy stuff is all.” She curls her hair behind her ears and stares at her feet.
“You know … Roman has never seen an emu up close.”
“Really?” She glances up at me, squinting against the sun.
“Really.”
“He’d love them.”
I nod slowly while she goes back to staring at her feet because I’m blocking her from getting into her car.
“If only I knew where he could see one … or two.”
“Mmm … hmm.” She nods a few seconds before snapping her head up to meet my gaze again. “Oh …” She laughs. “You mean Orville and Wilbur. You want me to show him my emus.”
I lift my shoulders, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “Only when it works in your schedule. Like on a day you’re unexpectedly home instead of at work.”
“Ha ha. Okay, I get it. You mean today.” She wrinkles her nose while nibbling on her lip. “I didn’t plan on visitors today.”
“You didn’t plan on not working today. But … so far so good, right?”
Dorothy studies me for a few seconds. “I suppose.”
“What happened in the bedroom deserves a higher ranking than I suppose.”
“Okay.”
“Okay we can follow you home?”
She nods.
“You’re sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Ha! This whole morning has been really uncomfortable.”
I frown. “I’m sorry. We can go home. We don’t have to impose on your day anymore.” Stepping away from her vehicle, I open her door.
“Dr. Hawkins—”
“Eli,” I say with more bite than I intend.
“Eli…” she repeats on an exhale “…I’m not the best at articulating things correctly. It’s hard to explain. I just express things differently. But I do want you to come to my house. And I do want to introduce Romeo to Orville and Wilbur, even if it’s been a stressful day. All my days are stressful in a way you can’t understand. Okay?”
“Okay.” I rub my lips together, studying her for a few seconds, trying to figure out if now is the right time to say something. “Warren said you have ASD,” I lie. He didn’t say it correctly.
“Dr. Warren?” She twists her mouth. “Huh … he wanted to screw an Aspie. Interesting.”
No. The interesting part is that’s her reaction. So Aspie is an okay term with her. Who knew?
“What do you think, Eli?” Her head cants to the side.
Is this a test? What does she expect me to say? And is it a reference to her ASD or Dr. Warren wanting to screw an Aspie? I don’t know, and it shouldn’t matter. There is no way I will stumble over her question. Brushing my fingertips over the palm of her hand, I lean down close to her ear and whisper, “I think you’re an extraordinarily spectacular human. Drive safely. We’ll follow you.” I let my lips graze her cheek, wondering if young eyes are watching and if Roman will say anything if he does see me so close to Dorothy.
Dorothy watches me, unblinking.
“Okay?” I ask.
After a few more seconds, she blinks and nods.
“I have a surprise for you, Roman,” I say, grabbing him from the floor of my car where he tries to hide from me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Me-yous
Dorothy
Interesting trait of most Aspies—we don’t multitask well. Not physically or mentally. I shouldn’t be driving home. My brain distraction has to be more dangerous than impairment from alcohol. But I have three things vying for my attention, my thoughts … my natural tendency to obsess.
I had sex with Eli, and he wants a do-over.
Dr. Warren knows I’m an Aspie, and he wants to have sex with me.
Eli doesn’t care about my Asperger’s.
By some miracle, I make it home without crossing the center line or driving off a bridge. Did I stop at red lights? Presumably so, since I can’t remember anyone honking at me.
I glance in my rearview mirror before pulling into the garage.
No blue Tesla.
The screen of my phone shows a string of messages and two missed calls from Eli.
Slow down, please.
You just ran a red light.
Jesus, Dorothy! Slow down!
You lost us. Pulling over to wait for you to answer your phone or reply to this message.
Maybe you can give me your address?
“Oh, fuck …” I murmur while texting him my address with a grimacing emoji.
I take my accidentally earned extra time to run into the house and make sure my parents aren’t sitting together on their sofa or making a mess in the kitchen. Or dressed in weird clothes.