Perfectly Adequate(46)

“Roman …” I rub his back as Orville inspects my hand with his beak. “Time to wake up, buddy.”

He stretches out on the blanket, startling Wilbur, who quickly stands up as does Orville. I snatch my son out from between them and carry him to the house. After ringing the doorbell twice, Kellie answers.

“Oh, hey.” She lifts onto her toes to look over my shoulder. “Where’s Dorothy?”

“She ran to the restroom—a half hour ago. Might want to check on her.”

“Oh jeez … she probably thinks she’s dying. That girl is such a hypochondriac.” Kellie steps aside for us to come into the entry.

Everything is tidy. Not overly decorated, pretty basic white kitchen, a few framed photos on white walls. Hardwood floors etched with scratches, probably from Gemma.

“Dorothy?” Kellie knocks on the bathroom door several times then turns the knob. It opens to a dark, empty bathroom. “Dorothy?” She nudges open another door.

All I can see is the bottom of a bed.

“Maybe she went out the back door and you just missed her.” She walks down a short hallway and opens one more door. “Oh my god … what are you doing?”

I slip off my shoes and Roman’s shoes and creep down the hallway behind Kellie.

“What?” Dorothy pulls wireless headphones from her head and pauses her Xbox game.

“You have guests, and you left them to play Xbox?”

She shrugs, glancing past her mom to me, wearing a curious look on her face. “How was nap time?”

“I’m …” Kellie turns toward me, shaking her head and rubbing her temples. “I’m so sorry. I really thought we taught her better than this.”

“Better than what?” Dorothy stands, making her way to us.

“Nothing, Dorothy. Nothing.” Kellie shuffles past us and just keeps walking.

“Romeo, do you like Xbox?”

“I like EssBoss.” He squirms out of my grasp.

“I bought you a Toy Story game while you were napping.” Dorothy brings up the game while Roman grabs the control.

Julie would crap her pants if she knew Roman was playing electronic games. At least that’s what thought comes to my mind. I have no idea what Julie would or wouldn’t do anymore. All I know is Dorothy bought my son a game so he can play it on her Xbox.

“Want me to show you how to play?” she asks, starting to take the remote from him.

“No! I do it.”

“Okay, that’s cool. Have at it.” She backs away, watching him with a grin on her face.

I move behind her and slide my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder, both of us out of Roman’s view. Not that anything is going to tear his attention away from the huge TV screen and his fascination with the remote, which I don’t think he knows how to use. Still, random things happen on the screen when he presses the buttons, and that seems to entertain him.

“You left me in the barn.”

“It’s a shed. And I had to use the bathroom.”

“And play Xbox?”

“You weren’t saying much. So I assumed we were done talking. Roman was sleeping. What’s the problem?” She turns in my arms, pressing her hands flat to my chest.

“I don’t mind being me. No one else can do it better.”

Her words belong painted on the walls of every children’s hospital, every church, every school. If every human could possess Dorothy’s humble confidence, the world would be a much better place.

“No problem.”

“You’re mad that I didn’t go back out to the shed.”

“Nope.”

“You are. My mom’s mad too. Go figure. Dorothy failed Social Etiquette Rule #473.”

I take several steps back and pull her with me, to take us a little farther away from young ears. “I failed to keep my marriage of thirteen years together with a two-year-old child at the time. I attend countless funerals of children who I failed to keep alive. I probably know a lot of social etiquette rules, but they don’t save marriages and they don’t save lives. So fuck the rules. If you want to play Xbox while I’m in your shed, play Xbox. If you want to cancel a date because you’re not prepared for something that might happen, then cancel the date. If you need to take weeks—or months—to decide if I’m worthy of following you on Instagram, then take the time.”

“Now you’re making fun of me.”

“No. Just really hoping I get to see your secret social media posts.”

She looks at her watch, narrowing her eyes before scraping her teeth along her bottom lip.

“We should go.” I release her from my hold.

“I want to get my walk in. That’s all. You can stay.”

“We can walk with you.” The second the words come out, I know better. I feel her body stiffen even without touching her. And her face contorts into a nervous grimace. “On second thought, we’re going to head home.”

Dorothy makes no attempt to argue, no attempt to make it seem like walking with her would be okay. That is my lesson today. Dorothy needs time alone. It isn’t personal toward anyone else. It’s her personality. More of a good thing is just that … more. Not necessarily better. So even if I crave more time with her, I need to wait. I want the desire to be mutual. The last thing I can handle at this point is having feelings for another woman who wants to get as far away from me as possible.