Roman tackles her with a hug. She falls backward, lying stiffly on the ground with Roman’s arms encircling her neck.
“Whoa, buddy. That’s enough hugging.” I peel him from her body and hold out my hand to help her up.
She brushes off her backside and laughs. “He’s quite the little hugger. I’ll be ready next time.”
I bite my tongue as the words “you could learn a few things” sit idle between my pursed lips. But she said she’d be ready next time, and that means she welcomes more hugs from my son.
“Have a great walk.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She holds up her hand in an awkward wave as I carry Roman to the car. “All these leftovers sat in my car.”
“Oh … shoot. Can’t eat them if they haven’t been refrigerated.” She shrugs.
“Sorry. I know you were really wanting them.” I smirk.
She returns a tight smile, her weak version of lying.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Gleaning 101
I make it three days before pressing SEND on my phone to call Dorothy. Aside from her random sexual demands, which happen with a moment’s notice, she qualifies as the world’s least needy girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
That’s a weird word for me to have in my thirty-eight-year-old head. Is she my girlfriend? I’m nearly two decades behind on the dating scene, so maybe girlfriend is an outdated term.
She doesn’t answer my call, even though it’s past her scheduled time at the car and dog wash. Maybe she’s still walking. Before I can speculate anymore, my phone vibrates with a text from her.
Dorothy: What do you need?
Me: I need to talk to you.
Dorothy: Texting not work for you?
I chuckle.
Me: I like the sound of your voice.
Dorothy: “What do you want?”
She sends a voice text. I mean … of course she does.
That makes me laugh more. It makes that infinite happiness bubble to the surface again.
I return a voice text. “I need a babysitter for Roman tomorrow night.”
Not a lie.
Granted, my parents or either one of my sisters will happily watch him, but that won’t give me a chance to see Dorothy again before work on Friday.
Dorothy: Sure! (beaming emoji with smiling eyes) What time? I get back from gleaning around eight. (high-five emoji)
Me: I have an appointment at seven. (thinking emoji)
Dorothy: Oh. Bummer. Sorry. (slightly frowning emoji)
Me: What do you have going on at seven?
Dorothy: Gleaning. (apple emoji, cookie emoji)
Me: Could you skip it one night?
Dorothy: Sure, I’ll let the poor, homeless, hungry people know I can’t help feed them because you need me. What is your appointment?
Me: Massage.
Dorothy: Oh! Yes, sounds super duper important.
Me: Calling you now. PICK UP YOUR PHONE!
I call her and she answers on the first ring.
“What is your deal? Texting was invented so people wouldn’t have to actually have verbal conversations.”
“Hi, Dorothy. I’ve missed you too. Have you had a good week so far?”
“Sure, make me sound insensitive.”
“What is your aversion to phone conversations?”
“Ugh! It’s just a time thing. Small talk. Chitchat shit that drives me crazy.”
“So talking to me drives you crazy?”
“No. Not yet, but if you refuse to text with me, it might get to that point. And emojis give context to words better than I can do with inflection. So when you take away my emojis, there’s a good chance of you misinterpreting the true meaning behind my words.”
“I’ll do anything if you skip one night of gleaning to watch Roman for me.”
That is code for I’d do anything to see her Thursday night.
“Um … again, no emojis makes this hard for me, but your anything sounds sexual. Are you pimping yourself out for a babysitter for your son? Gosh, what kind of massage is this that you’re getting?”
“Please.”
“You sound desperate.”
“Pretty please.”
“Yeah, that’s better. Not near as desperate. Eye roll emoji.”
I laugh. “Did you just verbal emoji me on the phone?”
“Yes. High-five emoji.”
“Enough emojis. The inflection of your voice is just fine for me. Just so you know, the please and pretty please is Roman. He’s begging to spend time with you again.”
“Wow, and I thought I sucked at lying. I know it’s past his bedtime.”
“He told me everything he wanted to say to you before he went to bed.”
“Okay.”
I choke on my next breath filled with more begging. Okay. She said okay. “Okay, yes you’ll watch him?”
“Yes.”
“He’ll be so excited.”
“Okay.”
Yeah, a few emojis with that monotone okay wouldn’t be the worst thing. I mentally insert my own smiley face and high-five emoji after her okay.
“Can you be here by six-thirty?”
“Okay.”
“Great! Goodnight, Dorothy. You’re the best.”
“Okay …”
I wait for the line to disconnect.
“Goodnight, Eli.”
Yes! High-five emoji.
* * *
Dorothy arrives by six and sits in her car until six-thirty. I let her because I think maybe she needs that thirty minutes alone in her car. It feels good to nudge her toward her limit without completely pushing her over the cliff. Great things happen when she allows herself to venture out of her daily norm—like doggy style sex and oral sex.