Perfectly Adequate

“I got a massage. I tweaked my back on my hike the other day. And for the record, Dorothy has a full list of names and numbers, including yours, to call in the event of an emergency. Roman and I have been spending time with Dorothy for almost six weeks now. She’s not a random stranger. She’s a nursing student and an EMT. I’m completely confident in her ability to keep our son safe and act appropriately in an emergency.”

“Are you dating her?”

“So we’re done here. Good. Thanks for calling, Jules.”

I back out of the parking spot and drive home, organizing my thoughts to tactfully find out why the hell Dorothy had Roman at the farmer’s market. When I pull into the garage, the car seat is next to the back door.

I stop at the car seat, bending down to inspect it closer. The straps look dirty. And when I feel them, they’re sticky with white smudges like adhesive.

“What the hell?” I mumble before going into the house.

Dorothy looks up from the sofa and holds a finger to her lips. “He’s asleep,” she whispers.

But he isn’t asleep in his bed. And he isn’t in his pajamas. He’s asleep on the sofa with his head on her lap, food on his face, and a pile of books around him.

She smiles, stroking his hair.

I ease into the chair opposite the sofa and rest my arms on my legs, dropping my head for a few seconds to rake my fingers through my hair. “Dorothy …” I whisper, shaking my head. “What were you thinking taking him to the farmer’s market?”

When I glance up at her, I expect guilt and remorse. Nope. Instead, she twists her lips to the side and releases a slow breath as she eases Roman’s head off her lap. Without looking at me, she shuffles her socked feet to the kitchen, so I follow her.

Dorothy turns toward me and leans against the counter. “You talked with Dr. Hathaway.” She scrapes her teeth along her upper lip while nodding slowly, contemplatively. “Yeah, that was really awkward. She wanted to take him home with her. I figured that would be fine, I mean … she’s his mom. But he didn’t want to go, and it just escalated. And I kinda felt bad that I couldn’t remember where you said you were going. Sometimes I space off certain details. Anyway … she just kept asking over and over. I’m not used to seeing her so on edge. Boss Bitch usually shows such authority and control. Like … I felt really sorry for her.” She shrugs. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Um …” I cough sarcastically. “Maybe not take him to the farmer’s market. Get him to bed on time in his pajamas and with his face washed. Basically follow the instructions I left for you to follow.”

“I glean on Thursdays.”

“I understand that. But I asked you to watch Roman instead tonight.”

“You begged me to watch him. And so I did. You never told me I couldn’t take him with me.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I didn’t know I needed to ask.”

“I don’t buy it. That’s why you wanted the car seat.”

“I wanted the car seat for emergencies too. I wasn’t lying about that.”

“Just about going to the farmer’s market.”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t lie.”

“Have you ever heard that omission of the truth is the same as a lie?”

“Nope. Never heard that. And it makes no sense.”

“Dorothy …” Resting my hands on my hips, I drop my head and ease it side to side.

“I have photos of him in my little red wagon, riding with all the sacks of leftover food. Wanna see? He told everyone we passed that we were cleaning. Oh my god … it was so cute.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket.

“No. I don’t want to see pictures of you doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing with my son. And … I don’t want to think about you driving a vehicle with my son in it. You drive way too fast, run red lights, and completely get distracted when you’re driving. I’m not just upset that you took him to the farmer’s market. I’m upset that you took him anywhere. And I’m upset that you put me in a really uncomfortable position with Julie.”

“Daddy?” Roman stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “I pee peed.”

Sure enough, his pants are soaked, and I suspect my sofa cushions are too.

“I’ll clean everything up.” Dorothy pushes off the counter and heads toward Roman.

“Just go, please. I’ll get him cleaned up. Thank you for …” I shake my head again, feeling a headache coming on. “Watching him.”

“I will. I … I’ll clean him up. Like uh … like it didn’t happen. I’ll just clean it up.” She takes Roman’s hand.

“Dorothy, are you listening to me? Please just go home.”