Perfectly Adequate(7)

The following morning, after a twelve-hour shift, I wait inside the parking garage entrance. I have it on good authority that Dr. Hawkins will be here at 7:00 a.m. It’s not his weekend to work, but (also on good authority) he has a patient in a special chemotherapy trial, and he needs to check in on her.

“Dr. Hawkins!”

His head snaps up as he walks through the automatic glass doors, holding his son’s hand. The little boy looks about four from his height. Tall. Probably his dad’s genes. Dr. Hawkins has to be at least six-four—a full foot taller than my five-four stature. But I know, in spite of his height, little Roman is only three. Lots of rumors about the hottest doctor at the hospital float around. I’m fairly certain the age of his son is correct.

“Dorothy …” he says my name slowly, like the smile that grows on his face.

“For you.” I hold out a large reusable shopping bag, but it hasn’t been used before. I bought it for his stuff. He can reuse it. He can think of me when he reuses it. Unless it brings back memories of me spilling coffee on his ass and down the back of his legs. Then maybe I prefer he not think of me when reusing the bag.

He releases the little boy’s hand and takes the bag. “What’s this?”

“What’s in the bag?” Roman says in choppy increments. He’s a spitting image of his dad. They both have the same dirty blond hair. A little longer on the top and shorter on the sides. They have the same rich brown eyes too. His shirt reads TROUBLE.

“Dorothy …” Dr. Hawkins shakes his head, lifting his gaze from the contents of the bag to me. “Why did you do this?”

“I ruined your scrubs. So I bought you new ones. Underwear … just took a guess on the size. Hope you’re good with boxer briefs in black. And the shoes are in two sizes. I guessed either a ten and a half or an eleven. Am I right?”

Dr. Hawkins nods slowly, wearing a distorted mask of confusion. “Eleven. But …”

“Donate the other pair.” I shrug.

“You …” He shakes his head again, brows knitted together. “You should return them and get your money back. You should return all of this and get your money back. And what is—” He pulls out the superhero cape.

“Oh!” I laugh. “That’s not for you. I heard you usually arrive with this little guy because he goes to the hospital daycare. Apparently, a lot of the nurses’ ovaries explode when this happens.” I roll my eyes. “Seems a bit farfetched. Anyway, I had an uncle who used to include me whenever someone in the family had a special occasion like a birthday. He’d get them a gift, and he’d get me some sort of dress-up gift. My mom said he was spoiling me, but he said fostering a child’s imagination is an investment into the future, not the spoiling of a generation.”

Dr. Hawkins opens his mouth, but nothing comes out for several seconds.

I glance at my watch. “I have to get upstairs. Hope everything fits. Especially the cape.” I grin at Roman. He’s adorable, hugging his dad’s leg and watching me with big brown eyes.

“Thank you, Dorothy. Really … I don’t know what to say.”

“Daddy … go.” Roman tugs on his leg.

“Yeah, buddy. We’ll go.” He shares a big smile, not the confused and guilty expression from just seconds earlier. Dr. Hawkins has a great smile.

I can tell he’s a flosser. Tall and he flosses. Journal-worthy.

“I’ll give him the cape later. If I show it to him now, he’ll want to take it to daycare, and there will be a meltdown when I don’t let him.”

“That’s cool. So … later.” I turn and push open the door to the stairs.

“You’re taking the stairs?”

I glance over my shoulder. “Yep. I like to close my movement and exercise rings before noon.” Lifting my wrist, I show him my watch.

He holds up his watch. “I already closed my exercise ring this morning.” He winks.

Tall. Flosser. Fit. Yeah, totally journal-worthy.





CHAPTER THREE





Accidental Babysitter

Elijah


“Cute cape.” Mom smiles at Super Roman as he flies around my parents’ backyard, chasing Elmo their golden retriever.

I nod, sipping my Sunday brunch mimosa, finding it impossible to hide my grin while looking at that cape and thinking about the woman who gave it to him. “The burn incident…” I glance at Mom, leaning to my right since the burns on my left butt cheek and the back of my left leg prevent me from sitting with my weight evenly distributed “…the culprit is a patient transporter at the hospital. She replaced my items of clothing … including new underwear.”

Mom’s eyebrows inch up her forehead.

“Yeah.” I chuckle. “She also bought Roman that cape, having never met him.”

“I already love her. When are you bringing her to Sunday brunch?”

I laugh some more. “In another life where I’m not emotionally stunted from my wife leaving me and only spending half the year with my son. Or when I’m not buried in my lab or attending funerals of deceased patients.”

“Well…” she taps my leg with her toe as she bounces one leg crossed over the other “…in that pathetic spiel you call an excuse, you failed to mention that you’re not interested or attracted to this woman. That’s progress, Eli.”