the Better or Best wash, you get a free pet wash. And Thursdays I glean at the farmer’s market. The other three nights I don’t get off work until eight, and I’m sure you don’t want to eat spaghetti that late. Although … I’m not opposed to carb loading after a long shift. I pretty much eat around the clock when given the opportunity. My mom wondered if my insatiable hunger was a parasite issue, so I did some extensive research on it and had myself tested. Turns out I have no parasite issues. I’m just hungry a lot.”
Pet washes. Gleaning. Parasites.
While so many questions race in my head, I promised one quick question before letting her get to bed. The other questions will have to wait until spaghetti night. “Tuesday sounds like the perfect night.”
“Um … yeah. Maybe.” Indecision seeps into her words. “I’ll see if my dad will feed Wilbur, Orville, and Gemma.”
Okay. Even with the time restraint … I have to ask. “Wilbur, Orville, and Gemma?”
“Yes. My emus and my dog.”
So much for rumors.
I have no idea where Dr. Warren and Dorothy stand. It never feels like the right time to ask him, especially since I’ve been planning my own date—dinner—invitation. And he doesn’t bring it up, so I assume (secretly hope) she rejects his invitation. But he is right about one thing, Dorothy Mayhem evokes an unavoidable curiosity.
I close my blinds and head downstairs to the kitchen. All the food talk makes me hungry. “Tuesday at six work for you?”
“I’ll check with my dad.”
“Fine.” I open the fridge and grab a bowl of grapes. “Tuesday at six, unless your dad can’t feed your pets. Then you feed them, and we’ll have dinner at seven instead.”
“But what time does Roman go to bed?”
“Eight.”
“So I’m coming over for an hour? Two if my dad feeds Wilbur, Orville, and Gemma?”
“You can stay later than his bedtime.”
“Why?”
I chuckle. “I don’t know. To talk to me.”
“About what?”
“Maybe you can tell me about your emus.”
“I can tell you about them while we’re eating dinner.”
“True.” I have no great response. She makes nothing easy for me. “I guess if we have nothing to talk about after Roman goes to bed, then you’ll go home.”
“Okay.”
Okay. So difficult and agreeable at the same time.
“Okay. I’ll text you my address. Maybe I’ll see you around the hospital this weekend.”
“Okay.”
I grin again.
Not true. I just haven’t stopped grinning.
“Goodnight.”
* * *
Dorothy
“Hey.” I plop down into my dad’s recliner since he’s chosen to sit on the sofa with my mom. Apparently they will have sex tonight. My mom let it slip that Dad only sits next to her on the sofa when he wants sex.
Things I never, ever, in the history of mankind, needed to know. So basically, walking in on them sitting on the sofa together always feels like the opening credits of a porn film not appropriate for anyone of any age.
They pause their Netflix show and glare at me with wide, expectant eyes.
“What?” I shoot them a wrinkled-nose look.
“What are you doing?” Mom asks, setting her bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.
“I’m sitting in this chair.”
“Why?” She prods.
Funny story … my uncle died (not the funny part) and left me a lot of money.
Me.
Not my mom or my grandma. Not my other cousins.
So I bought some land with a small house on it and added a parents’ quarters off to one end. I figure since they housed me for twenty-six years, the least I can do is return the favor. Besides, I like having them there. It’s not that we spend hours bonding, watching TV together, and sharing meals. I just like having the company. So we share the kitchen and laundry room, but they have their own bedroom, bathroom, and family room.
“I just got off the phone with a doctor from the hospital.” Did I mention the only time I visit them in their family room is when I have something to share?
They return slow nods in unison—good listeners—another bonus to having them in close proximity.
“He wants me to do some babysitting for him. He has this three-year-old son named Roman. You’d love him. He’s really adorable. But now he’s invited me to dinner next Tuesday to get to know Roman better. I guess so he’s comfortable around me before I watch him. I respect that. Do you know how many parents don’t think twice about leaving their kids with strangers?”