Perfectly Adequate(72)

“Well…” he coughed a laugh “…now you do. So do you care?”

“Yes.”

“Well you have a terrible way of showing it.”

“Different,” I whisper.

“What?” he asks in a clipped tone.

“Nothing,” I murmur while looking at my watch. “I uh … should go.”

“Five minutes ago you said you had thirty minutes, but now you need to go?”

“I don’t know why you’re so angry. I’m sorry. What did I do?”

“Tell me what you said.”

“About what?”

“I said you have a terrible way of showing that you care. And you said something after that. What did you say?”

“I said different. I have a different way of showing that I care. Not a terrible way. Just because I don’t act like you or every other neurotypical person out there, doesn’t mean that my actions are wrong or terrible. It just means they are different. Can I go now?”

“Dorothy … I need to know where your head is on this. Where your heart is on this. Because I get this feeling that Julie is having regrets about us. Regrets about leaving me. And while at first I thought it was just shock from the accident, I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Regrets? As in she wishes she wouldn’t have divorced you?”

Eli shrugs. A few seconds later he nods.

“Okay.”

“Okay? Really, that’s your response?”

“Eli … I …” I close my eyes, but it doesn’t stop the pain in my head. “I’m going to play the Aspie card here. I didn’t know what that meant five years ago, but I get it now. It’s when I feel like everyone is waiting for me to get or see something that’s so obvious, but I don’t see it. And it’s not because I’m not smart. I know I’m a smart person. I have the grades to prove it. It’s that I’ve missed a cue or failed to make an important connection, and everything after that point is … well, pointless. So if you’re ‘beating around the bush,’ then you need to stop. You need to be very specific and very direct.”

He studies me under his scrutinizing gaze for several seconds. “Fine. Literally until the moment I stepped onto that elevator with you, I’ve wanted my life back. I’ve wanted Julie to wake up and realize what a terrible mistake she made. And maybe that makes me pathetic, but I don’t care. I don’t regret loving someone so deeply. I don’t regret having a child with her. And I don’t regret thinking that fifteen years of marriage and a child is worth fighting for until you know without a doubt that there’s absolutely no hope.”

“More direct.” I glance at my watch.

He sighs. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“And I choose you.”

“Okay.”

He grimaces. “But if six months from now, you don’t feel like I’m the one for you anymore, I’m going to look back and wonder if I blew my last chance to have my family together again.”

“Is there a question? If so, you should ask it now.”

“Am I it for you? Could you see yourself with me twenty … thirty years from now?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “We’ve known each other for less than two months, and you’re asking me about twenty-thirty years from now? I’ve changed professions three times in eight years, but after six … seven weeks of knowing you, I’m supposed to make a twenty … thirty-year projection?”

“No,” he whispers, staring blankly at the middle of the table.

“That’s a relief. I’m going back to school. I have a test this afternoon. And now I have a headache, so I’m going to go take something for it so I can focus on my exam.”

“I’m sorry.” His gaze lifts to meet mine. “Your headache is my fault.”

“Probably.” I shrug. “It’s fine. Nothing a couple of ibuprofen won’t handle. Need help back to the sofa? Or do you want Dr. Hathaway to help you?”

“I just need you to come here.” He holds out his hand.

I rest my hand in his.

“Come here.” He tugs my hand.

I unfold from my chair and take the two steps to stand next to his chair.

He releases my hand, reaches up to fist the top of my shirt, and pulls me to his mouth. It’s a slow kiss, but I tell myself I can spare an extra minute or two for a slow kiss.

“Uh-hem …”

I pull away and rub my lips together while embarrassment crawls up my neck.

Dr. Hathaway stands in the doorway, holding a plant in one hand while covering Roman’s eyes with her other hand. “Delivery. From one of your patients.”

“Mommy, move your hand!” Roman pushes her away.

“So …” I work my way toward the nearest exit. “I have to go. Bye.”

“Bye, Dorfee!” Roman is the only one to tell me goodbye.

Eli and Dr. Hathaway are too busy having a stare-off.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX





It’s Still You

Elijah


“Roman, nap time,” Julie says while glaring at me.

“I don’t want a nap!”