Perfectly Adequate(51)
“Um …” I cough sarcastically. “Maybe not take him to the farmer’s market. Get him to bed on time in his pajamas and with his face washed. Basically follow the instructions I left for you to follow.”
“I glean on Thursdays.”
“I understand that. But I asked you to watch Roman instead tonight.”
“You begged me to watch him. And so I did. You never told me I couldn’t take him with me.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I didn’t know I needed to ask.”
“I don’t buy it. That’s why you wanted the car seat.”
“I wanted the car seat for emergencies too. I wasn’t lying about that.”
“Just about going to the farmer’s market.”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t lie.”
“Have you ever heard that omission of the truth is the same as a lie?”
“Nope. Never heard that. And it makes no sense.”
“Dorothy …” Resting my hands on my hips, I drop my head and ease it side to side.
“I have photos of him in my little red wagon, riding with all the sacks of leftover food. Wanna see? He told everyone we passed that we were cleaning. Oh my god … it was so cute.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket.
“No. I don’t want to see pictures of you doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing with my son. And … I don’t want to think about you driving a vehicle with my son in it. You drive way too fast, run red lights, and completely get distracted when you’re driving. I’m not just upset that you took him to the farmer’s market. I’m upset that you took him anywhere. And I’m upset that you put me in a really uncomfortable position with Julie.”
“Daddy?” Roman stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “I pee peed.”
Sure enough, his pants are soaked, and I suspect my sofa cushions are too.
“I’ll clean everything up.” Dorothy pushes off the counter and heads toward Roman.
“Just go, please. I’ll get him cleaned up. Thank you for …” I shake my head again, feeling a headache coming on. “Watching him.”
“I will. I … I’ll clean him up. Like uh … like it didn’t happen. I’ll just clean it up.” She takes Roman’s hand.
“Dorothy, are you listening to me? Please just go home.”
“I think you’re mad. So I’ll clean him up. Problem solved.”
“Dorothy!”
She jumps. Wide eyes unblinking at me.
Roman’s lower lip pushes out and tears fill his eyes. “Daddy … why are you mad at Dorfee?”
Fuck …
“Okay. S-so …” Dorothy stutters and surveys the room like she’s looking for something. “I’ll just … go. Bye, Romeo.”
“Bye, Dorfee,” he murmurs, blinking several times without releasing any actual tears yet.
As she passes me, I grab her hand to stop her and blow out a long breath. “I shouldn’t have asked you to watch him tonight. You had plans, and I didn’t respect that. So all of this is on me, not you.”
She keeps her gaze at the door and says nothing, so I release her hand because I don’t have time to deal with her and get Roman cleaned up and in bed.
No time for patience.
No time for reflection.
No time to plan how I will handle Julie in the morning.
So I act on impulse and do the things that need to be done first, starting with my soaked child.
The door clicks behind Dorothy.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, buddy.” I remove his clothes over the tile floor in the kitchen.
“Daddy, I rode in red wagon.”
“Oh yeah?” I force a little daddy enthusiasm even though I feel none.
“I did. I did … and Dorfee pull the wagon and I go wee! And … and we gots food. Lots of food. We were cleaning!”
“That’s great, Roman.” I pick him up and carry him upstairs. “Are you going to shower with me?”
“And Dorfee and me gave all the lots of food to people, Daddy.”
“Uh huh …” I set him down and turn on the shower to warm up while I undress. “Let’s see if you have any more pee pee.” I set him on the toilet, and sure enough, more pee.
He giggles. “It’s lemon … ade. Me and Dorfee had lemon … ade. Purple lemon … ade.”
“Lavender lemonade?”
“Yes. Labender lemon … ade. It was yummy.”
I usher him into the walk-in shower.
As I shampoo his hair, he glances up at me. “Daddy, some … some people have no food.”
I pause my motions for a few seconds before returning a slow nod and resuming the sudsing. “That’s true.”
“Is sad, Daddy. Dorfee say is sad. But me and Dorfee gave … gave people food. All the lots of food. Dat … dat make people happy.”
I’m an asshole.
When you meet someone who is essentially a better human than ninety-nine percent of the population, it’s hard to not occasionally show your asshole side. By default, their selflessness will be misread as selfishness. Tonight, I thought Dorothy was being selfish with her insistence on going to the farmer’s market.