Perfectly Adequate(77)

“You mean The Flash? Because that’s who he is now that he has his Halloween costume early.” Eli brings up a photo of Romeo Flash on his phone.

“Oh my god, he’s so adorable.” I tap the prongs of the fork against my lower lip while grinning at the picture.

Eli sets his phone down on the other arm of the chair and exhales an audible breath. “Julie wants me back.”

Ugh. My appetite begins to wane. Not because I wasn’t expecting the conversation, I just thought he’d wait until I ate my sandwich and made him beg for pie. “She’s smart. Even if it took her unusually long to come up with the right answer.” I shrug. “All that matters is that she did.”

“The right answer?” he asks.

“Duh. You and Roman. Choosing your family. Of course it’s the right answer.”

“For whom?” Eli’s eyes narrow.

“For Roman. And maybe for you and maybe for her too, but definitely the right choice for Roman.”

“And what about Dorothy Mayhem?”

“What about me?” I take a bite of my sandwich.

“You said you thought you loved me too.”

“So?” I mumble over cold barbecue jackfruit.

“And Roman likes you. A lot.”

I swallow and nod. “True. But I’m not his mom. Dr. Hathaway is his mom. And she should get to see him every day. So should you. And now that she’s back in the game, it’s kind of a no-brainer.”

“What if I choose you?”

“Then you’re an idiot.”

“Why?”

I hate his line of questioning. It’s stupid and completely pointless. “Because you have the chance to be with Roman every single day. Nights too. All the weekends and holidays.”

“But I want you.”

I stand and slide the plate onto my entertainment console, making a loud clank. “You are a stupid fucking idiot!” I grab the back of my neck with both hands, digging my fingers into the muscles along my neck to ease the tension. “If I could choose Roman over you, I would in a heartbeat. Does that make you feel better? Does that ease your decision? He’s three, and smart, and funny, and he says all the cute things. And that smile …”

I wipe my cheeks, narrowing my eyes at my hands, a little confused and surprised to see tears. The sting of my eyes and the trickle down my cheek went unnoticed amid my anger. “That smile is life.” I wipe my hands on my pants. “So why in the hell would you choose to live half a life when you can have it all?”

Eli pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Doing what?”

“Making me feel like a terrible person.” He rubs his eyes and looks at me. They’re red.

“I’m not,” I whisper.

“You are. Because you’re using my son as leverage to take yourself out of the equation. But this isn’t an equation or a poll where everyone gets a vote. This is my goddamn life!”

I jump, hugging my arms to my chest. I’ve seen Eli slightly upset before, like when I agreed to go on a date with Warren or when I suggested Eli and Dr. Hathaway take Romeo to London. But those were nothing compared to Eli’s clenched jaw and tear-filled eyes taking me hostage in my own home. I can’t move. Not a single muscle.

He swallows hard, keeping his jaw locked and managing to blink several times without shedding those tears. “You’ve made me feel like a truly awful father. And I know that’s not what you meant to do, but you have. The guilt, Dorothy … you’re fucking killing me with guilt. You’ve turned loving you into a fault. An epic error in judgment. A choice …” He shakes his head and sniffles. “You weren’t supposed to be a choice. Not you. Not Roman. But you’ve laid it all out there. If I choose you, that means I’d have Roman part-time. But that makes me a ‘stupid fucking idiot’ in your eyes. So what’s the point?”

What did I do wrong? How do I excel at always messing things up? I spend so much time planning my moves and my words. I journal them and bounce them off my parents. How did a move that felt so selfless turn me into a monster? The judgmental enemy.

“Just …” I ease my head side to side, grimacing from the pounding inside of it. “Just tell me what you want me to say … what you want me to do.”

He hangs his head, closing his eyes.

I glance back at the door. Eli brought a bag, but who brought Eli? I look at my watch. It’s almost ten o’clock.

What would a neurotypical person do?

I’m not sure. This exact scenario hasn’t played out in the movies or my novels quite this way. I mean … given his complete demeanor, I assume he might want to storm out, get in his car, and squeal his tires.

But he can’t storm anywhere. I’m not sure he can even stand on his own.

No car.

My drive is gravel so no pavement for squealing tires.

That leaves me in uncharted territory with only one question.

What should I do?

Pie.

You can’t go wrong with pie, especially apple pie. I slide the plate from the console and kneel on the floor between Eli’s legs, giving the table his casted leg is on a tiny nudge. He opens his eyes, sharing a lifeless expression.

I think I put that on his face. Another example of my plans not at all going how I imagined they would go. So I fork up a bite of pie and hold it up to his mouth. After a few slow blinks, he takes the bite.