Perfectly Adequate

I rub my eyes before lacing my fingers behind my head, meeting Kellie’s huge grin and bright eyes. Julie’s mom never thanked me for loving her daughter.

I return the smile. “It’s truly a pleasure. And I …” I cringe, feeling eighteen instead of thirty-eight. Maybe my naked body only covered by a pillow is what has me feeling a bit insecure. “I apologize for not being more responsible with your daughter. But I love her. And I’m going to take care of her and raise this baby with her. I have only the best intentions where Dorothy is concerned.”

“I appreciate that. So much.” She sits on the side of the bed.

Okay … we’re going to chat now, with me naked in Dorothy’s bed. Nope … nothing awkward at all about this. I scoot over an inch or two, keeping a firm hold on the pillow.

“A few years back, before her uncle died and left her all his money…” Kellie lets out a slow breath, looking out the slats of the window blinds “…I went shopping with Dorothy right around the time school was getting ready to start. We each grabbed a cart. I went in one way. She went the other way. We met back up a few minutes later. I had like four things in my cart. Dorothy’s cart was full. Now … things you’ll find out about Dorothy, if you haven’t already: She has backups of everything—shampoo, deodorant, toothpaste … you name it. And not just one extra. I’m talking three or four extra tubes of toothpaste. So before I actually focused on the contents of her cart, I assumed she simply was having a moment. A little anxiety that required the comfort of backups.

“Nope … I was wrong. Here’s the thing, we spend so much of our lives as parents trying to make sure our kids are good humans. Then one day, without you really noticing, it happens. Dorothy’s cart was full, but the stuff was not for her. Upon explanation, she told me there was a donation box in front of a children’s house she passed every day on her way to work. It had been over a week and no one had donated. She’s done some summer workshops with these kids … the abused and neglected kids. And she said they had less than nothing, and nobody was helping them, not at all. Then she said she knew what she was doing wouldn’t really make a difference, but she at least wanted to try. One minute I was worried that she was having an off day, preparing to interrogate her about taking her medications faithfully. The next minute, I’m standing in a store with tears rolling down my face.”

She shrugs. “I’m happy to say that I have raised a good human who’s now adulting better than me.”

Yeah, I need a lifetime with Dorothy Mayhem. And I can’t believe how close I came to letting her slip away from me.

“Anyway, I just want you to know that some days will be sheer madness. I mean … god knows I love that girl, but she is clumsy and loud. Talks through movies, constantly being told to shush. And she’s a hypochondriac. Always dying of something. She won’t eat the last slice of bread, the last bit of peanut butter in a jar, the last cookie in a box. Nope. She’ll just get out a new one. And the birds …” Kellie laughs. “I asked her once if she wanted to put some seed out for the momma bird who had babies in a nest. Dorothy didn’t even think, she just said, ‘No. I believe in Darwin.’”

I chuckle. Does Kellie know that all of Dorothy’s quirks that may drive her parents crazy make me love her just that much more?

“But then … she fills a box for kids who have less than nothing.”

But then that …

Dorothy … Dorothy … Dorothy …

“You did a great job raising her. She’s perfect.” I grin.

Kellie stands, twisting her mouth to hide her pride. “She’s … adequate.” She winks and slips out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

My mom messages me a picture of Roman eating pancakes with a “Hope you and Julie are enjoying your alone time.”

This means Julie didn’t get Roman last night. So I drive to her house. After ringing the doorbell twice, she answers the door in a robe. Puffy eyes and a forced smile.

I step inside. “Jules …” I hug her to me.

She grips my shirt and silently sobs for a few minutes. There’s not much to say. She knows.

This hurts.

Everything we had has changed, and it just doesn’t fit right anymore.

“I’m t-too late.” She pulls back and wipes her face.

I nod slowly. Just once. “It’s not because of the baby. I don’t want you to ever think I’m choosing this child I’m having with Dorothy over our child.”