“I think you’re mad. So I’ll clean him up. Problem solved.”
“Dorothy!”
She jumps. Wide eyes unblinking at me.
Roman’s lower lip pushes out and tears fill his eyes. “Daddy … why are you mad at Dorfee?”
Fuck …
“Okay. S-so …” Dorothy stutters and surveys the room like she’s looking for something. “I’ll just … go. Bye, Romeo.”
“Bye, Dorfee,” he murmurs, blinking several times without releasing any actual tears yet.
As she passes me, I grab her hand to stop her and blow out a long breath. “I shouldn’t have asked you to watch him tonight. You had plans, and I didn’t respect that. So all of this is on me, not you.”
She keeps her gaze at the door and says nothing, so I release her hand because I don’t have time to deal with her and get Roman cleaned up and in bed.
No time for patience.
No time for reflection.
No time to plan how I will handle Julie in the morning.
So I act on impulse and do the things that need to be done first, starting with my soaked child.
The door clicks behind Dorothy.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, buddy.” I remove his clothes over the tile floor in the kitchen.
“Daddy, I rode in red wagon.”
“Oh yeah?” I force a little daddy enthusiasm even though I feel none.
“I did. I did … and Dorfee pull the wagon and I go wee! And … and we gots food. Lots of food. We were cleaning!”
“That’s great, Roman.” I pick him up and carry him upstairs. “Are you going to shower with me?”
“And Dorfee and me gave all the lots of food to people, Daddy.”
“Uh huh …” I set him down and turn on the shower to warm up while I undress. “Let’s see if you have any more pee pee.” I set him on the toilet, and sure enough, more pee.
He giggles. “It’s lemon … ade. Me and Dorfee had lemon … ade. Purple lemon … ade.”
“Lavender lemonade?”
“Yes. Labender lemon … ade. It was yummy.”
I usher him into the walk-in shower.
As I shampoo his hair, he glances up at me. “Daddy, some … some people have no food.”
I pause my motions for a few seconds before returning a slow nod and resuming the sudsing. “That’s true.”
“Is sad, Daddy. Dorfee say is sad. But me and Dorfee gave … gave people food. All the lots of food. Dat … dat make people happy.”
I’m an asshole.
When you meet someone who is essentially a better human than ninety-nine percent of the population, it’s hard to not occasionally show your asshole side. By default, their selflessness will be misread as selfishness. Tonight, I thought Dorothy was being selfish with her insistence on going to the farmer’s market.
I was wrong.
She was being completely selfless in her actions. And at the same time, teaching my young child a very valuable lesson and me as well.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
She’s Mine
Dorothy
“Good morning.” Mom smiles, cinching the tie to her white bathrobe.
“Thanks for this,” I mumble over a mouthful of leftover fried rice.
“You mean my lunch that you’re eating for breakfast?”
“Oops.” I grin.
“How was the market?”
“Good. I took Romeo with me. Put him in my little red wagon. Look.” I pull up the pictures on my phone. “He’s so stinkin’ cute. He also kept eating the food we were gathering. The vendors went crazy over him. And I got us lavender lemonade, and he tried to eat the sprig of lavender, but spit it out onto the leg of a lady passing us. That was a little embarrassing.”
She laughs. “I’m sure. Did Eli enjoy the market?”
“Oh.” I shake my head, shoveling in more food. “He didn’t go. He had an appointment. I was babysitting Roman for him. I also ran into Dr. Hathaway. She seemed a little confused or worried about me being there alone with Roman. When she tried to get him to go home with her, he was all, ‘No! I stay with Dorfee!’ Oh my god, it was just … crazy. I didn’t know what to do.”
“So did he finally go with her?”
“No. Because this police officer came over and basically asked me if ‘my son and I’ knew her. Like … can you imagine how horrified she must have been? I felt really bad for her. But I didn’t know what to do.”
“What did Eli say when you told him?”
I cringe. “I don’t think he was happy. He didn’t exactly know I was taking Romeo to the market with me. He kinda freaked out when he got home.”
“Dorothy Emmaline Mayhem, you took his child without asking?”
“No. I didn’t take his child. He begged me to watch Roman. No big deal. Like, his son was fine. Yes, he wasn’t in his jammies and his face was a little dirty, but he was safe and sleeping on the sofa. I mean … isn’t that what should be important to parents? That at the end of the day, their child is alive and safe at home? Like … he sees this bad shit all day. He sees kids die and parents grieve. But he freaks out about a trip to the farmer’s market that ended just fine. I didn’t know what to say or do. This morning while I was showering, I thought thank god he didn’t know about the car seat.”