Perfectly Adequate(49)
Dorothy: “What do you want?”
She sends a voice text. I mean … of course she does.
That makes me laugh more. It makes that infinite happiness bubble to the surface again.
I return a voice text. “I need a babysitter for Roman tomorrow night.”
Not a lie.
Granted, my parents or either one of my sisters will happily watch him, but that won’t give me a chance to see Dorothy again before work on Friday.
Dorothy: Sure! (beaming emoji with smiling eyes) What time? I get back from gleaning around eight. (high-five emoji) Me: I have an appointment at seven. (thinking emoji) Dorothy: Oh. Bummer. Sorry. (slightly frowning emoji) Me: What do you have going on at seven?
Dorothy: Gleaning. (apple emoji, cookie emoji) Me: Could you skip it one night?
Dorothy: Sure, I’ll let the poor, homeless, hungry people know I can’t help feed them because you need me. What is your appointment?
Me: Massage.
Dorothy: Oh! Yes, sounds super duper important.
Me: Calling you now. PICK UP YOUR PHONE!
I call her and she answers on the first ring.
“What is your deal? Texting was invented so people wouldn’t have to actually have verbal conversations.”
“Hi, Dorothy. I’ve missed you too. Have you had a good week so far?”
“Sure, make me sound insensitive.”
“What is your aversion to phone conversations?”
“Ugh! It’s just a time thing. Small talk. Chitchat shit that drives me crazy.”
“So talking to me drives you crazy?”
“No. Not yet, but if you refuse to text with me, it might get to that point. And emojis give context to words better than I can do with inflection. So when you take away my emojis, there’s a good chance of you misinterpreting the true meaning behind my words.”
“I’ll do anything if you skip one night of gleaning to watch Roman for me.”
That is code for I’d do anything to see her Thursday night.
“Um … again, no emojis makes this hard for me, but your anything sounds sexual. Are you pimping yourself out for a babysitter for your son? Gosh, what kind of massage is this that you’re getting?”
“Please.”
“You sound desperate.”
“Pretty please.”
“Yeah, that’s better. Not near as desperate. Eye roll emoji.”
I laugh. “Did you just verbal emoji me on the phone?”
“Yes. High-five emoji.”
“Enough emojis. The inflection of your voice is just fine for me. Just so you know, the please and pretty please is Roman. He’s begging to spend time with you again.”
“Wow, and I thought I sucked at lying. I know it’s past his bedtime.”
“He told me everything he wanted to say to you before he went to bed.”
“Okay.”
I choke on my next breath filled with more begging. Okay. She said okay. “Okay, yes you’ll watch him?”
“Yes.”
“He’ll be so excited.”
“Okay.”
Yeah, a few emojis with that monotone okay wouldn’t be the worst thing. I mentally insert my own smiley face and high-five emoji after her okay.
“Can you be here by six-thirty?”
“Okay.”
“Great! Goodnight, Dorothy. You’re the best.”
“Okay …”
I wait for the line to disconnect.
“Goodnight, Eli.”
Yes! High-five emoji.
*
Dorothy arrives by six and sits in her car until six-thirty. I let her because I think maybe she needs that thirty minutes alone in her car. It feels good to nudge her toward her limit without completely pushing her over the cliff. Great things happen when she allows herself to venture out of her daily norm—like doggy style sex and oral sex.
Yes, I’m still thinking about that. I’m certain I will think about that day every day for the rest of my life.
“Dorfee!” Roman tackle hugs her again, only she’s ready for it this time and stays on her feet.
“Little Romeo! Are you excited to hang with me tonight?”
“Yes!” As quickly as his excitement starts, he runs off to play, much like a dog greeting someone then running off when they realize no one brought them treats.
“Hey.” I take in her jeans, floral shirt, and green Nikes that match the stems on the shirt. It’s my first time seeing her in jeans. They’re not as inviting as her very accessible skirts, but she looks hot as hell just the same.
“Hey. So are you leaving his car seat … for emergencies?”
“9-1-1 is the best choice for emergencies.”
“Yes, but if you get in an accident or my mom or dad choke on something and die, I wouldn’t want to wait until you got home. And 9-1-1 is not a taxi service.” She shoves her hands into her front pockets, then her back pockets, then she folds them over her chest. Very odd for her.
“Yes. I’ll put his car seat in your car right now. Just don’t forget to have me get it out when I get back.”
“Cool.” She brushes past me and slips off her shoes.
Something feels a little off about Dorothy tonight, but I can’t quite figure it out. And I need to get to my appointment, so I switch the car seat and give her last minute instructions.