Perfectly Adequate

by Jewel Ann

  Mom narrows her eyes at me. Yes, I’m acting incredibly weird—extremely paranoid. “I’m just fixing the blanket on the bed.”

  “I thought you were going to get Dorothy leftovers.” I plant my fists on my hips to widen my body like a gate she can’t pass.

  “Yes, Eli. I just want to straighten the—”

  “Mom! Dorothy doesn’t have all day.”

  The room falls silent.

  Mom’s head jerks backward as Dorothy grimaces, trapping her lower lip between her teeth, wringing out her hands in front of her.

  “Elijah Alexander, what is wrong with you, child?”

  “Nothing,” I say as calmly as possible. “You just … go. I’ll fix the blanket and use the restroom. You get Dorothy some leftovers.”

  “What is under that blanket?” She crosses her arms over her chest?

  “What?” I narrow my eyes.

  “I wasn’t born yesterday. You’re acting like you used to act when you broke something and didn’t want me to find out. You might be a grown man now, but you still lie to your mom like a ten-year-old boy. What is under that blanket? Did Roman get it dirty with his bare feet?”

  “Yes. Just let me have it cleaned. I don’t want you to worry about—”

  “No!” Dorothy yells before cupping her hand over her mouth.

  My mom turns toward her while I shake my head so hard it makes my neck hurt. Dorothy’s eyes ping-pong between us. I silently plead with her.

  “No … what, dear?”

  “It wasn’t Roman,” she mumbles from behind her hand.

  “Dorothy, it’s okay. He’s not going to get into any trouble.” A nervous laugh infiltrates my words.

  “It was me,” she says, dropping her hand from her mouth. “I got blood on your quilt. I’m really sorry. I will replace it if it doesn’t come out in the wash.”

  “Dorothy, I’m not worried about a few drops of blood. I’ll get them out.” Mom shoulders past me and removes the throw blanket. “Oh … I guess it’s more than a few drops. Did you faint face-first or something?” She cocks her head, inspecting the smudges too much … way too much.

  “Yes, a little lightheaded.” I grab Mom’s shoulders to steer her out of the bedroom.

  She brushes me away, shooting me a scowl before returning her attention to Dorothy. “Well, looks like you have plenty of color in your cheeks now.”

  Dorothy presses her palms to her cheeks, patting them gently.

  “Better get used to a little blood, dear. You could potentially see a lot of it as a nurse.”

  “I’m fine with blood.” Dorothy acts a little offended.

  It’s not the right time to get offended.

  “Just not your own. That’s pretty common.” Mom heads toward the stairs.

  Thank god!

  “No. I’m fine with my own.” Dorothy chases after my mom like she has a point to prove.

  No points need to be proven. We just need to get the hell out of here.

  “I didn’t get lighthea—”

  Dorothy claws at my hand covering her mouth.

  “Let it go!” I whisper in her ear.

  “Elijah Alexander!”

  Here we go …

  I remove my hand.

  “What in god’s name are you doing to her?” Mom stands halfway down the stairs with a look of horror etched into her face.

  Dorothy curls her hair behind her ears and lets her hands flop to her sides as she releases the world’s biggest sigh. “We had sex. I chose doggy position, totally forgetting about my knees. I’m so sorry. I should have said missionary.”

  Closing my eyes, I rub my temples and drop my chin to my chest. How is this my life?

  “Oh …” My mother stretches that “oh” out for many seconds. “I see. Dorothy, we’ll meet you downstairs. I need a few minutes with my son.”

  “Okay.”

  Okay …

  Damn! Dorothy holds no remorse in her voice. No embarrassment. No concern for the fact that I’m about to be grounded for life. Yes, I feel certain my mother would ground me—at thirty-eight.

  The pat pat pat of Dorothy’s steps fade, but the slight creak of the steps gets louder as my mom inches toward me. I can’t look at her. There is a good possibility I will never be able to look her in the eye again.

  “Eli?”

  “Mom, I—”

  “I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

  “What?” My head snaps up.

  Yep, it’s pride that shines along her face, feeding her smile, glistening in her eyes.

  “Way to go! I’ve wanted this for you for months. The right woman who would drag you out of your cave of desperation and depression. A woman so completely different than Julie, but who would adore both you and Roman. A woman with a zest for life. A woman willing to take risks like a quickie at your parents’ house.”

  Blink.

  Blink.

  Blink.

  “Um …”

  Blink.

  Blink.

  Blink.

  “I don’t know if Dorothy is necessarily a risk taker. I think that if she’s on the spectrum, then she just became a little fixated on … proving something,” I say.

  My mom won’t stop grinning at me. Normally parental pride is a good thing. Not now. Not when fucking Dorothy Mayhem doggy style is the reason for Mom’s glowing pride.

  No.

  Just … no.

  “What was she trying to prove?”

  “We’re done talking about this.” I brush past her to the stairs.

  “You’ll tell me Friday.”

  “I’ll never tell you. Sorry, Mom.”

  Mom packs leftovers, but I can tell by the horrified expression on Dorothy’s face that she will not eat them.

  “Thanks for brunch. It was better than I imagined.” Dorothy gives my mom a sincere smile.

  Mom chuckles. “You are most welcome here anytime, Dorothy—with or without Eli.”

  I roll my eyes and corral Roman by tossing him onto my shoulder. “Thank you, Mom, for another great Sunday brunch and your hospitality.” I kiss her cheek. “Tell Grandma bye, Roman.”

  He giggles, upside down over my shoulder as Mom kisses him goodbye.

  “Tell Dad bye.”

  “Oh, I will. The stinker already snuck out to his shop.”

  We follow Dorothy to the driveway.

  “Bye, Dorfee!” Roman yells next to my ear just as I set him down by the back door to my car.

  “Bye, Romeo. See ya around.”

  “Hop into your car seat, buddy.”

  While Roman climbs into his seat, I meet Dorothy at the driver’s door to her car and lean back against it so she won’t run off quite yet. “Thank you. I know playing hooky, lying to your boss, eating with strangers, and letting Roman contaminate your food is probably way out of your comfort zone, but I really…” I lower my voice “…really enjoyed this brunch date.”

  “Okay.” She grins.

  “Okay …” I challenge her with my very own guilty-as-hell, shit-eating grin. “So, what’s on your agenda for the rest of the day?”

  She glances at her watch. “Aside from keeping a close eye on Dr. Hawkins and his daily activity, not much. I’m supposed to be at work, so I might get some extra reading time in and gaming.”

  “No studying?”

  “Nah, I don’t have to study much. I mean sometimes I have to study, but nothing today.”

  “Smart girl, huh?”

  Dorothy shrugs. “I suppose. It’s just easy stuff is all.” She curls her hair behind her ears and stares at her feet.

  “You know … Roman has never seen an emu up close.”

  “Really?” She glances up at me, squinting against the sun.

  “Really.”

  “He’d love them.”

  I nod slowly while she goes back to staring at her feet because I’m blocking her from getting into her car.

  “If only I knew where he could see one … or two.”

  “Mmm … h
mm.” She nods a few seconds before snapping her head up to meet my gaze again. “Oh …” She laughs. “You mean Orville and Wilbur. You want me to show him my emus.”

  I lift my shoulders, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “Only when it works in your schedule. Like on a day you’re unexpectedly home instead of at work.”

  “Ha ha. Okay, I get it. You mean today.” She wrinkles her nose while nibbling on her lip. “I didn’t plan on visitors today.”

  “You didn’t plan on not working today. But … so far so good, right?”

  Dorothy studies me for a few seconds. “I suppose.”

  “What happened in the bedroom deserves a higher ranking than I suppose.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay we can follow you home?”

  She nods.

  “You’re sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  “Ha! This whole morning has been really uncomfortable.”

  I frown. “I’m sorry. We can go home. We don’t have to impose on your day anymore.” Stepping away from her vehicle, I open her door.

  “Dr. Hawkins—”

  “Eli,” I say with more bite than I intend.

  “Eli…” she repeats on an exhale “…I’m not the best at articulating things correctly. It’s hard to explain. I just express things differently. But I do want you to come to my house. And I do want to introduce Romeo to Orville and Wilbur, even if it’s been a stressful day. All my days are stressful in a way you can’t understand. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I rub my lips together, studying her for a few seconds, trying to figure out if now is the right time to say something. “Warren said you have ASD,” I lie. He didn’t say it correctly.

  “Dr. Warren?” She twists her mouth. “Huh … he wanted to screw an Aspie. Interesting.”

  No. The interesting part is that’s her reaction. So Aspie is an okay term with her. Who knew?

  “What do you think, Eli?” Her head cants to the side.

  Is this a test? What does she expect me to say? And is it a reference to her ASD or Dr. Warren wanting to screw an Aspie? I don’t know, and it shouldn’t matter. There is no way I will stumble over her question. Brushing my fingertips over the palm of her hand, I lean down close to her ear and whisper, “I think you’re an extraordinarily spectacular human. Drive safely. We’ll follow you.” I let my lips graze her cheek, wondering if young eyes are watching and if Roman will say anything if he does see me so close to Dorothy.

  Dorothy watches me, unblinking.

  “Okay?” I ask.

  After a few more seconds, she blinks and nods.

  “I have a surprise for you, Roman,” I say, grabbing him from the floor of my car where he tries to hide from me.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Me-yous

  Dorothy

  Interesting trait of most Aspies—we don’t multitask well. Not physically or mentally. I shouldn’t be driving home. My brain distraction has to be more dangerous than impairment from alcohol. But I have three things vying for my attention, my thoughts … my natural tendency to obsess.

  I had sex with Eli, and he wants a do-over.

  Dr. Warren knows I’m an Aspie, and he wants to have sex with me.

  Eli doesn’t care about my Asperger’s.

  By some miracle, I make it home without crossing the center line or driving off a bridge. Did I stop at red lights? Presumably so, since I can’t remember anyone honking at me.

  I glance in my rearview mirror before pulling into the garage.

  No blue Tesla.

  The screen of my phone shows a string of messages and two missed calls from Eli.

  Slow down, please.

  You just ran a red light.

  Jesus, Dorothy! Slow down!

  You lost us. Pulling over to wait for you to answer your phone or reply to this message.

  Maybe you can give me your address?

  “Oh, fuck …” I murmur while texting him my address with a grimacing emoji.

  I take my accidentally earned extra time to run into the house and make sure my parents aren’t sitting together on their sofa or making a mess in the kitchen. Or dressed in weird clothes.

  “Dr. Hawk—” I shake my head. “Eli and Roman will be here soon.”

  Mom looks up from her book. “That’s exciting.”

  “No. It’s …” I grimace shaking my head. “It’s just … never mind. Where’s Dad?”

  “In his garden, of course. Do you want to tell me now why you’re not at work today?”

  “No.” I rush out of her living room to check on my bedroom. There’s no way I will let them into my bedroom, but sex at his parents’ house wasn’t on my radar either. I have to submit to the fact that Eli has his own agenda that doesn’t always match mine. Was sex at his parents’ his idea or mine?

  Either way, I like his agenda—our agenda—sometimes … like earlier. I liked the hell out of it. I wanted to like it again, right after I liked it the first time, but that seemed greedy and maybe disrespectful to his parents and Roman.

  “They’re here!” Mom calls.

  I straighten my journals and run a hand over my bed to smooth out the comforter.

  “Dad’s chatting with them.”

  “No!” I run toward the door.

  Is Eli upset about me telling his mom about doggy style sex? Will he get revenge by telling my dad? My dad is not the kind of guy you joke with about his daughter and definitely not about pounding her from the backside.

  “Hey!” I practically burst out the front door, a little out of breath and a lot anxious about the situation.

  Eli and Roman on my property.

  Eli and Roman meeting my parents for the first time.

  Eli with that I-just-fucked-your-daughter look on his face.

  Okay, I might be incorrectly reading into that look, but it still feels like a real possibility.

  “Hey. Glad you made it home safely.” Eli smiles at me.

  “Sorry, I totally got distracted and didn’t pay attention to the fact that you were no longer behind me.”

  “Your phone didn’t ring in your car?”

  “She drives like a bat out of Hell.” Dad shakes his head. “And if she’s distracted, a fire alarm could fall on deaf ears.”

  “You should introduce us, Dorothy.” Mom’s voice chimes right behind me.

  “Randy already introduced himself. I’m Eli and this is Roman.” Eli holds out his hand to my mom.

  “Kellie. Nice to meet both of you. Dorothy talks nonstop about you.”

  “Mom …” I mumble between gritted teeth.

  Eli winks at me as Roman tugs on his arm.

  “Daddy, look!” He points to my Orville and Wilbur strutting toward the fence. “Listen, Daddy! Listen!”

  I laugh. “Let’s go see them, Romeo.” I hold out my hand, and he takes it. “You can come too, Eli.”

  “I’m good. I’ll just stay here and chat with your parents.”

  “No. You need to come meet my emus.”

  He chuckles along with my parents, but after a few seconds, I hear the rocks behind me crunching beneath his footsteps.

  “Big bird! Daddy, look at the big birds!”

  “Yes. What did I tell you they’re called?”

  “Me-yous.”

  Oh my god … this kid is so damn adorable. “Emus.” I lift him up as we approach the fence.

  “This is Wilbur. He’s a lover.” I stroke Wilbur’s neck. “And this is Orville. He’s a little ornery. You’ll see what I mean. He’s a little more spastic.”

  Ruff!

  Gemma runs toward them. “And this is my girl, Gemma. She has access to the fenced-in area and the house. Orville has managed to get himself caught in Gemma’s access door more than once.”

  “Soft …” Roman says with reverence as he pets Wilbur. “Look, Daddy! A doggie.”

  As soon as the emus catch sight of Gemma running toward them, they take off like two robbers fleeing a bank.

  “And
so the chase begins.” I laugh.

  “Who wears out first?” Eli asks.

  “Gemma. Those birds can run for hours and then cool off in the pond or kiddie pool.”

  “Daddy, look at the me-yous run!”

  “They’re fast, huh?”

  “Yes!” Roman punches the air with his little fist. “Daddy, look!” He points to my trampoline.

  “Oh … that looks … dangerous.” Eli shoots me a tight-lipped smile.

  “Daddy, let’s bounce.”

  “Tiny fracture to my arm, but other than that, it’s been pretty safe. Let’s check it out while those three wear themselves out.”

  I set Roman down, and he runs straight to the trampoline. We jog to catch up to him. I help him in through the mesh doorway and crawl in behind him.

  “This view might be worth a tiny fracture.”

  I glance back at Eli’s smirk as he stares at my ass. He’s seen his share of it today.

  “Perv.” I roll my eyes.

  “It’s not my fault you keep putting it in my face.”

  We take turns jumping with Roman, having a fun day I didn’t expect. Then we play with Gemma, Orville, and Wilbur once their energy settles into something more manageable for Roman. And by manageable, I mean they are perched on their clean blankets in their shed, letting Roman love on them. I take at least fifty photos.

  “What are you going to do with all of those pictures?” Eli asks as I flip through them.

  “Put them on their Instagram page.”

  “Whose Instagram page?”

  “Orville’s and Wilbur’s.”

  “What? Your emus have their own Instagram page?”

  I hold up my phone.

  Eli’s eyes try to pop out of his head as he leans closer to my phone. “Your emus have over five hundred thousand followers? Is that for real?”

  “Real.” I shrug. “What can I say? People like animals better than humans. I know I do.”

  He chuckles. “Clearly, you might not be alone.” He nods toward Roman asleep between Wilbur and Orville.

  I have to snap ten more pics.

  “Do you have a personal account? A Dorothy Mayhem account?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And how many followers does it have?”

  I pull up my account and show him.

  He lifts his right eyebrow at the screen. “Thirteen people?”