Perfectly Adequate(90)

“Your family is on their way over here. Who are you sending that to?” Julie rolls her eyes, peeking around me to see my phone.

“Jesus, Elijah …” she whispers before I can get out of my message screen that has Dorothy’s name at the top.

I turn toward her, but she’s already halfway up the stairs.

“Hello? Where’s George?” Mom calls, opening the front door.

My parents and sisters make their way into the living room, snapping lots of their own pictures of Roman and then of me.

“These are the best costumes!” My mom beams. “Where’s Julie?”

“Bedroom.” I gesture toward the stairs. “I’ll go see if she’s ready.”

I take slow steps down the hallway to my bedroom. Our bedroom? Fuck, I have no idea. I close the door and slither my guilty ass to the doorway of the bathroom.

Julie glances up in the mirror, eyes wet, lips trapped between her teeth.

“I’m sorry.” How unoriginal. Even with sincerity in my voice, the words sound empty.

“What are we doing, Eli?” Our gazes meet in the mirror. “Because I’m here, going through the motions, trying to put our family back together. And I thought that’s what you wanted too.”

“It is.” I drop my chin, feeling too much guilt to even look at her any longer.

“What did I misread? Misunderstand? Because I thought you and Dorothy were over? I’ve been making meals and doing the laundry. We sleep in the same bed, but you never touch me. And I thought it was because of your injuries and maybe Dorothy too … I thought maybe you just needed time to let go. But messaging her pictures of Roman is not letting go.”

I force my gaze back to her. And she doesn’t look mad, she looks hurt.

She stares at her feet. “I get it. I ruined us. I’ve never expected anything from you. I bore the burden. But you begged me to give us another try. So I thought this was what you wanted. And since I’ve been taking my meds and doing the counseling, I’ve realized it’s what I want too. But I can’t do this if you’re not all in. If you need more time, I’ll give it to you. Just ask me. If you don’t want this anymore, then just tell me. But please, I beg you … don’t hold me at arm’s length, making me look like a fool because you can’t decide what it is you want.”

I take off my yellow hat and run my hand through my hair on a deep sigh.

What I want.

I want the impossible.

“Daddy! Let’s go!” Roman tears through the bedroom, ramming into my leg, thankfully my good leg.

Julie turns her head and blots her face.

“Okay, George. Let’s go.” I step out of the doorway.

Roman takes my hand and tugs on it as I try to lead him out of the bedroom. “Come on, Mommy.” He holds out his other hand to her, and she takes it.

As the three of us stand here holding hands, Julie and I look up at each other.

“I want this,” I whisper to her.

She gives me a quivering smile and nods. “Me too.”

*

We take our little boy trick or treating. I watch him giggle, and it makes me smile.

A real smile.

Julie plays chase with him between houses, as if our little monkey is going to gobble her up, and it makes me smile.

A real smile.

When we arrive home, we give him a bath, and more smiles and giggles ensue. And I think … maybe I can do this. Maybe I can find my way back to this life. Maybe Dorothy is right.

“He’s asleep.” Julie sighs with a fantastic smile on her face as she shuffles into the bedroom, tossing her banana costume on the floor, leaving her in a black tee and yellow leggings.

I rub a towel through my wet hair, freshly showered. Julie’s gaze slides along my bare chest to my jogging shorts. I hate that there’s a part of me that feels like she has no right to look at me this way.

In or out, Eli. Make a decision.

For Dorothy, the day in the on-call room might have felt like the true severing of ties. But for me, it’s this moment. It’s this decision to take back my life, to give my little boy everything.

Julie takes away the space between us one slow step at a time. I’ve waited for so long to see this look in her eyes again, to feel wanted, to feel the undeniable pull that brought us together twenty-two years ago.

But still … I think of Dorothy. Maybe I’ll always think of Dorothy. She will just have to be a scar, a permanent mark on my heart because I let her inside of me. And letting her go has been brutal and not without damage.

Julie rests her hands on my bare chest and presses her lips to my sternum. I close my eyes and slide my hand into her long, red hair. It’s not as soft as Dorothy’s hair. But the shiver it elicits in Julie is familiar. So that’s what I cling to—the familiar.

She feathers kisses up to my neck. My grip on her hair tightens like the suffocating pressure in my chest. Her lips pause at the angle of my jaw, and she waits for me to look at her.

I do.

But just as quickly, I close my eyes and kiss her so she doesn’t see the pain and regret in my eyes. I have to believe someday it won’t be there.

Someday I will be okay.

Julie doesn’t smell like coconuts. But that’s fine.

Fine …

She smells like roses. I used to love the smell of roses.