Perfectly Adequate

by Jewel Ann

  “Your mom is coming over today. So if you decide to come into work, she’ll be here with Roman. But we need to set a schedule. My mom is used to watching Roman every other week, so I don’t know how she’ll feel about watching him full-time. She’s been used to having lunch with friends on her weeks off, or taking short trips with Dad. But what I’m really thinking is we should consider scaling back our schedules like we discussed doing right after Roman was born. Well …” She sits across from me. “I adjusted my schedule and you just made sure you didn’t work more than forty hours a week. But what if we tried to each work four days a week. I could take Thursdays off. You could take off Fridays. If your mom is willing to watch Roman on Mondays, then my mom could do Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and he wouldn’t have to go to daycare. Also my mom will still have days off to do other things, including her getaways with my dad. What do you think?”

  What do I think? I take a sip of my coffee. Well, I think I miss Dorothy.

  “I can’t do this now.” I bow my head, scratching the back of it while closing my eyes.

  “Oh … well. Okay. We can discuss this later when you’re not so groggy. Do you want to ride into work with me?”

  I used to … I used to want her next to me in bed. I used to want her good morning kisses. I used to love commuting to work together, especially on the days that we couldn’t keep our hands off each other—during the early years, right after we both got our jobs at the children’s hospital.

  The reckless behavior.

  I used to drive seventy-five … eighty miles per hour with Julie’s head in my lap, her mouth on me. Sometimes I had to pull over behind an old building or along an empty trailhead because we just couldn’t wait … because we needed each other in every way possible.

  The feeling of needing Julie has consumed my entire adult life.

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be there today, since they’re not expecting me until Wednesday. So I’ll drive.” I try so hard to sound normal. To sound okay. But I’m not okay.

  Dorothy … everything with her is okay.

  Beautiful. Exhilarating. Heart-stopping. Soul-reaching. Okay.

  “Okay. I’ll check in on you. Maybe we can grab lunch if my schedule allows.”

  No. Julie isn’t allowed to say okay. It’s not her word. It loses all meaning coming from her lips.

  “Maybe.” I force a smile before taking a sip of my coffee.

  “Oh, your mom is here.” She sets her coffee cup in the sink. “Since you’re driving, I’m going to take off. Kiss Roman for me.”

  I nod.

  How is this happening? How is she standing in my kitchen, acting like we’re a family, giving me exactly what I’ve wanted forever? How is it possible to feel so suffocated by my dreams?

  “Good morning, Lori! Have a great day,” Julie’s cheery voice grates along my nerves.

  “Someone’s in a good mood.” Mom lifts an eyebrow in surprise after Julie shuts the door.

  We haven’t seen this Julie in a long time. It’s great, right? I mean it should be everything. But it’s not.

  “Yup.” I take another sip of my coffee, resting my elbows on the table.

  “Your cast is off, yet your appointment to get it off is today. Want to talk about it?” She takes a seat next to me, setting a glass bottle of green juice on the table and her purse on the floor.

  “Nope.” I move my attention from her to the window, not really focusing on anything in particular. That’s the problem. Nothing in my life feels in focus.

  She rests her hand on mine. “What do you want, Eli?”

  I grunt. “The impossible.”

  She returns a half-hearted laugh. “Well, I taught you to reach for the stars. I guess I should feel some pride in your predicament. Can you define the impossible?”

  I rub a hand down my face and blow out a long breath. “I want Roman every day. I don’t want to miss out on a single thing. And I want Dorothy. And I don’t want to hate Julie. And I don’t want her to hate me. And if I’m making a wish list, might as well add curing cancer to it.”

  “What’s your plan B?”

  Allowing a tiny smirk to grace my face, I give her side-eye. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out since Dorothy removed herself from the equation.”

  “I’m sorry, Eli.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “So where does that leave you and Julie? She seemed pretty happy a few minutes ago.”

  “Yes. She crawled into my bed last night and wrapped her arms around me, releasing this content sigh like all is right again in the world. This was after I told her Dorothy left me. I just lay there wondering how my life got so messed up. And I feel like something is wrong with Julie for wanting to be with me when she knows I’m in love with Dorothy. But then …”

  I laugh a crazy man’s laugh. “But then it hits me. I’ve been the one for the past year, silently begging her to come back to me, love me, need me, raise Roman with me, while knowing all along that she didn’t want me.”

  “Yes. It’s ironic. And painful. And I wish I had a brilliant answer for you, but I don’t. However, if Dorothy is truly out of the picture, then you need to decide where to go from here. You need that plan B.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Goodbye

  “Welcome back.” Dr. Warren glances up from the computer in my lab, giving me a faint smile.

  “Thanks.” I planned on arriving a little earlier, but Roman woke up and I decided to have breakfast with him and my mom.

  Warren’s gaze lands on my leg and my slight limp. “Sure you’re ready to be back?”

  “More than you can imagine,” I murmur, swiping through a few charts and lab results on my tablet.

  “Must have been hell, you know … being nursed back to health by Dr. Hathaway and sleeping with Dorothy Mayhem.”

  I blow a laugh out my nose while glancing up from my tablet. “Alright, I suppose this is as good of time as any. Yes, I was involved with Dorothy. But I’m not now. And I apologize if you truly had real feelings for her that went beyond getting her under you in the on-call room.”

  Warren crosses his arms over his chest and nods once. “What happened?”

  “An apology. That’s the most I owe you. I’m not telling you what happened between me and Dorothy.”

  He shrugs. “She’ll tell me. I’m not sure she can keep a secret.”

  “Leave her alone.”

  Warren holds up his hands. “Whoa … I’m leaving her alone.” He glances over my shoulder and nods. “Speak of the devil.”

  I turn toward the window. Dorothy’s talking to Willa. She grins at something Willa says. It makes me smile. I love seeing Dorothy happy. But her smile falters as her attention gets pulled toward something past Willa. Julie passes them, giving Dorothy a wide grin and a nod before she makes a quick left, coming into my lab.

  “Doctors.” She hasn’t lost a bit of her early morning cheeriness. “Keisha Eldridge’s biopsy came back. It’s malignant melanoma.” She shows me the results.

  After looking over them, I hand them to Dr. Warren.

  Julie smiles and runs her fingertips along my ear, messing with my hair. “You could use a trim, Eli.”

  My eyes find Dorothy. She drops her gaze, tucking her hair behind her ears as she brushes past Willa like she can’t get out of here fast enough.

  “Let’s take Roman shopping next weekend for a new Halloween costume. He’s already worn out his superhero costume. I knew he would. We should get costumes too. Remember we always talked about doing that?”

  Warren glances up from Keisha’s chart, raising a single eyebrow as Julie messes with the collar of my shirt. I used to love her messing with my hair and my clothes—anything to feel her touch. Where did it go? Why does her touch feel so wrong?

  Dorothy Mayhem ruined me. Just completely ruined me.

  But her words hold me accountable, like I owe it to her to give Roman the life she thinks he deserves. And he does deserve that life.

&nbs
p; “Yeah.” I pin the best damn smile on my face that I can muster. “He would love that.”

  “Perfect!” Julie lifts onto her toes and kisses the corner of my mouth.

  I stiffen, feeling the full weight of Warren’s scrutinizing gaze.

  “Bye, Dr. Warren.” Julie tosses him a grin before sashaying out of the lab.

  “Don’t say it.”

  “She’s the mother of your kid. A successful doctor. Incredibly beautiful. What could I possibly say? Other than … it’s obvious why you’re no longer with Dorothy.”

  I take three painful steps toward him, grab his lab coat, and shove him into the wall. His eyes bulge from his head.

  “Dorothy Mayhem is the fucking universe. She’s what every other human could only hope to be. She’s better than me, better than you, and better than Dr. Hathaway—added all together and multiplied times infinity. And even then … we don’t come close to Dorothy Mayhem. So if I ever hear you say her name again, it better be in complete respect and reverence. Do I make myself clear?”

  Warren blinks slowly before nodding. I release him, go tell Keisha Eldridge’s parents that their daughter has a deadly cancer that’s very rare in children. Then I lay out her treatment options and give them very promising survival statistics while praying with them to a god that may or may not exist.

  Dorothy was right … my problems are small even if in my heart they feel incredibly large and unbearable.

  * * *

  The next two weeks turn into a blur as I acclimate back into working full days. I still go to physical therapy. But I’m back to walking normally. Warren and I make silent amends, focusing more on work and less on personal life.

  Julie and her things continue to infiltrate my house, like she’s moving in without actually announcing it or renting a big van to do it all at once. And I’m letting it happen because I don’t know how to stop it or if I should stop it.

  I hope one day soon I’ll just wake up and everything will click. Julie will be the love of my life again. Roman will frolic around in bliss because he’s back in a full-time, stable home with two parents tucking him in every night. My sisters will stop scowling at me during Sunday brunch because they’ll accept my reasons for allowing Julie back into my life … my home … my bed.

  And Dorothy …

  Well, I have to believe that one day I will thank her. One day I will stop missing her. One day it won’t hurt to pass her in the hallway at the hospital. But that day feels unreachable right now.

  After lunch with my mom, I grab a coffee to cut through the chill in the fall air and wait for the elevator to take me up to my lab.

  “Shit!”

  I glance over my shoulder just as Dorothy rounds the corner, holding out her hot coffee that she’s dribbled down the front of her shirt. Before I can say anything, she glances up. From the size of her eyes, it’s obvious she wasn’t expecting to see me when she turned the corner.

  “Hi.” My smile reaches a new high, one it hasn’t seen in weeks.

  It feels good and awful. Refreshing and heartbreaking.

  “Gulp.”

  I chuckle. That feels pretty damn good too. It just happens. I’m not doing it to play the part. I’m not doing it for her. It’s for me.

  The smile.

  The laugh.

  The warm sensation of contentment.

  It’s for me.

  And it’s fucking incredible, even if this moment passes in a blink. For now, I’m just going to keep my eyes open.

  “Did you actually just say gulp?”

  “Well…” she wipes her hand down the front of her scrub top, making the dripped coffee spread into bigger spots “…I uh, thought it first. Then it just came out.”

  “You might need a new top.”

  Keeping her chin tipped toward her chest, she continues to mess with the spots. “I don’t have a matching top. Not one that will work with my undershirt and shoes.”

  More laughter fills my chest as my grin threatens to crack my entire face. “Sometimes you have to make the alternative work, even if it feels all wrong.”

  “Easier said than done.” She looks up.

  My words that were spoken with no great meaning, take on a life of their own. Sucking all the oxygen from the space around us. Echoing a very grim reality. Erasing my smile and silencing my laughter.

  The elevator doors open. I step aside and let her go first. She pushes the button to the fourth floor. The same floor as my lab.

  The doors close.

  I move behind her to hide everything that’s etched into my face.

  I miss you.

  I love you.

  I’m living with the alternative for Roman … and for you.

  “How are you?” I whisper.

  She doesn’t have to say it this time. I hear her gulp. “Fine,” she squeaks like it barely makes it past her throat.

  Fine.

  I don’t like fine Dorothy. Fine Dorothy breaks my heart because I know her “okay” is spectacular, but fine feels along the lines of barely breathing. Does she know how incredibly fucking fine I am right now too?

  The doors open.

  She bolts out.

  And I would let her go. I really would, but she lifts her hand and wipes her face as her feet move as fast as they can away from me.

  I take one more sip of my coffee, toss it in the trash, and follow Dorothy, doubling her pace to catch up to her.

  “Don’t! What are you doing?” She tries to move past me when I get ahead of her and turn to stop her. I want to grab her. Shake some sense … shake some more emotion out of her. But I don’t physically touch her.

  “A word.”

  She shakes her head.

  “I’m not asking.”

  She bites her upper lip, but it doesn’t keep her bottom lip from quivering or prevent the redness building in her eyes. I jerk my head toward the on-call room, and she leads the way, again wiping her eyes with her back to me.

  A groggy resident lifts his head when I open the door to the otherwise vacant room.

  “Out,” I snap, holding the door open.

  “But I just—”

  “Out!” I blow out an exasperated breath, not feeling patient enough to explain my demand with more than one word, and definitely not patient enough to listen to his reasons for not getting out right this minute.

  Dorothy turns like she’s decided to flee as the resident slips on his shoes and slides past us with a grumble. But I step in her way again, taking several steps to force her backward as I close and lock the door.

  She opens her mouth to protest again, I grab her face, lowering mine to her eye level.

  More tears fill her eyes.

  “I need you to be okay. I need it like oxygen.”

  “Eli …” she whispers, making a solid effort to keep those tears from leaking down her face.

  “Tell me you’re okay, Dorothy. Tell me you’re okay, and I’ll let you walk out of here right now.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Not the same.” I grimace, feeling her pain as if it were my own … because it is my own.

  “I’m fine.” She blinks, losing the battle with her emotions.

  “Yeah…” I whisper, resting my forehead on hers for a few seconds before ghosting my lips along her tearstained cheek “…I’m fine too.”

  My pulse pounds so hard it’s deafening. When our mouths lock, reality ceases to exist. I’m just so tired of doing the right thing when it feels so wrong.

  When she unties my scrub pants, I let go.

  I let go of reason.

  I let go of worry.

  I let go of everything that’s not in this room … in this moment.

  We tear apart long enough to discard our tops. Then our mouths collide again while my hands work the hook to her bra. Dorothy doesn’t even try to speak. This is how I know she’s fine. Because “okay” Dorothy would have lots to say. She would invite her conscience to come between us. Okay Dorothy would warn me that she’s not
wearing the right bra or underwear to do this.

  I miss okay Dorothy. But the part of my soul that’s been starving without her feels some gratitude for her pain because she’s giving me this. She’s feeding my soul, bringing me back to life.

  Her hands slide into my hair, deepening our kiss, moaning into my mouth, pushing me back toward a single bed. We kick off our shoes. My hands cup her breasts.

  “Eli …” She tips her head back, eyes closed, as I add her bra to the pile of clothes at our feet.

  I slide her scrub bottoms and panties off in one smooth motion as my mouth covers one of her breasts. I can’t get enough of her. My hands and lips move along her skin, desperate to consume every inch of her.

  We fall onto the bed, both of us working together to get my bottoms and briefs off. With them still clinging to my right ankle, I settle between her legs, guiding her left knee toward her chest, and push inside of her. Our mouths crash together again.

  Hungry.

  Desperate.

  The perfect union of all that we’ve held back.

  The legs of the old metal-frame bed scrape along the floor as the springs whine beneath the thin mattress. Dorothy’s fingers curl into my backside while I drive into her. I don’t want it to end, but the need spurs me on. She spurs me on with her tongue mimicking our rhythm and her back arching off the bed, letting me know she’s close.

  I need. I need. I need.

  I love this woman. She makes me crazy. All of my senses culminate in her presence. I am the best version of myself with her. I just … love this woman.

  “Jesus …” she pants, closing her eyes as her head eases to the side and one of her heels digs into the back of my leg.

  I press her other leg an inch closer to her chest, like my entire being wants to crawl inside of her … possess her.

  Keep her forever.

  My neck stretches back, face twisting as I release.

  My mind and my heart instantly prepare for her to push me away, pull on her clothes in under thirty seconds, and run out on a wave of regret because the only thing that comes close to the size of Dorothy’s heart is her conscience.