Perfectly Adequate(68)

“I forgot how comfy this leather recliner is.” Julie plops down in the brown recliner while I stay perched on the matching sofa with my casted leg on the coffee table.

“Well, you can’t have it now.” I grin.

She rolls her eyes. “I said it’s comfy, not stylish.”

“Suits Roman and me.”

I wait for her comeback. It defines the previous year. Little jabs here and there, but rarely anything like a boxing match. We manage to always bring it back to Roman. We’re in it for him. I often wonder, if we hadn’t had Roman, would she have left Portland? Would I have ever seen her again?

There’s something different about her right now. So much of her feels familiar, like the Julie I fell in love with twenty-two years ago. But on the outside, I don’t recognize her—the red hair, the breasts, the clothes that hug her curves a little bit more than the comfortable, sensible outfits she wore when we were married.

“Mommy! I’m hungry.” Roman zooms down the stairs and barrels toward her, jumping onto her lap.

“Oopf!” She hugs him, rocking him a bit as he hugs her back.

My world.

My life.

Right here, but not completely real anymore. For a moment, when Julie glances at me and smiles over Roman’s shoulder, I feel like the previous year never happened, like maybe I didn’t just wake up after an accident, maybe I woke up from the nightmare that my wife left me.

In the very next blink, I think of Dorothy.

“Hey, buddy. Can you bring me my phone? It’s on the kitchen table.”

“I get it!” Roman wiggles down from Julie’s lap and runs into the kitchen.

“So … what sounds good for dinner?” She stands, sliding her hands into her back pockets which press her new chest out, showing off the goods.

“We can just order something to be delivered.”

“No. I’m here. I fully intend to make meals. Clean house. Maybe knit something.” She winks.

When she was pregnant with Roman, she took up knitting. That Christmas everyone got scarves and mittens.

“As I recall, the last time you took up knitting, the house never got cleaned and we always ordered delivery.”

“True.” An easy laugh bubbles from her chest. “I’ll try to show a little more restraint this time.”

“Here, Daddy.” Roman brings me my phone.

“Thanks, buddy.”

“You going to help me make dinner, mister?” Julie ruffles Roman’s hair as they both head toward the kitchen.

Dorothy has three more hours of work, but I can’t resist texting her on the off chance that she might break the rules and text me back.

Me: What are you wearing?

She doesn’t respond right away. That’s fine. I have nowhere to go and all the time in the world. Twenty minutes later, she texts me.

Dorothy: Scrubs (shrug emoji) Me: What’s the color combination today?

Dorothy: I’m working

Me: Two words. I know you’re wearing two colors. Be quick and sneaky. Type two words to me. (folded hands emoji) Dorothy: Green white

Me: Grass green (grass emoji) or surgical green (stethoscope emoji) She doesn’t answer. I frown. Kudos to Dorothy for taking her job seriously.

While Julie and Roman make dinner, I lean my head back and close my eyes. I dream of jogging along my favorite trail, the windy, narrow paths. Nothing but miles of trees, deep ravines, and the trickling of tiny waterfalls.

“Daddy!”

I jump, cringing as my wounds protest.

“Don’t scare Daddy, silly. Remember we have to be really really nice to him.” Julie hooks Roman around the waist with her arm and kisses him on the cheek as she scoops him up into her arms. “Let me get the wild man his food. Then I’ll help you to the table. Unless you’d rather eat on the sofa.”

“The table is fine. If I eat out here, Roman will want to eat out here too. And that will turn into an unbreakable habit.”

Julie nuzzles Roman’s ear as he giggles. “So very true. I’ll be right back.”

We eat tacos.

I think of Dorothy and her love of tacos … and all food really.

After dinner, Roman sits between me and Julie on the sofa (my leg propped up on the coffee table), and we take turns reading him his favorite stories.

At eight o’clock, Julie takes him upstairs to tuck him in bed.

Dorothy: Surgical green I smile as my phone chimes.

Me: How was work today?

Dorothy: Same as every day. How are you feeling?

Me: Like I fell into a steep ravine.

(Three rolling on the floor laughing emojis)

When can I see you?

Dorothy: IDK

Me: Not an acceptable answer. (neutral face emoji) Dorothy: Your house is only twenty minutes from my school. I have a 2.5 hr break between classes on Mondays. I could bring you lunch. And Roman. And Dr. Hathaway.

I stare at the last line of her text. Julie is living with me. Helping me. Allowing me more time with Roman. I’m grateful. Of that, there is no question. But it doesn’t bode well for my time with Dorothy.

Me. My son. My girlfriend. And … my ex-wife.

But maybe that’s it. I mean … I’ve seen it before. I’ve seen those rare instances where couples divorce. Share custody. And actually remain friends. Friends with each other. Friends with each other’s new love interests. Maybe it doesn’t have to be an awkward situation. Maybe it can be an opportunity.