your favorite restaurant so you don’t have to eat my mom’s cooking. Which would be a shame because she’s an excellent cook. (three folded hands emojis)
Dr. Hawkins is an emoji man. That makes him exponentially more attractive to me. Still … I’m not a good liar. But since it will be Sunday, maybe having four days at school before seeing my coworkers again will make it easier to deal with the guilt and not spew my confessions the second someone at work asks me if I’m feeling better.
Me: Send me the address and time. Will Romeo be there?
Dr. Hawkins: Sending … and yes, Julie will drop him off.
The next text is his parents’ address and the time: 11:00 a.m.
Drop him off. That means Dr. Hathaway will be there. Right? At least long enough to let him out of the car. Or will she walk him to the door? Come inside? Meet me?
Hi. I’m Dorothy. Does your ex-husband require anything out of the ordinary to have sex? I tried a sexy dress, stripping for him, offering both oral and vaginal sex. Not sure where I went wrong. Would you mind giving me a few tips? Oh … and I think you’re brilliant. I want to be you when I grow up. Me? Yeah, I’m thirty, but in the Aspie world that’s like twenty … so barely a grown-up.”
I imagine her feeling flattered by my compliments, suggesting we be friends who share knowledge of their favorite scientific studies and tips on pleasing men. My friend list is pretty short. Accommodating Dr. Hathaway seems doable.
Dr. Hawkins: Did you fall asleep?
His text brings me out of my roleplaying.
Me: No. Going to try again now. See you tomorrow.
Dr. Hawkins: Night, Dorothy. Can’t wait to see you again.
“I don’t mind being me. No one else can do it better.”
–Dorothy Mayhem
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Frittata Fingers
Sleep isn’t on my side, so I make the most of my Sunday morning by texting my boss—lying to her. Then I load up my bike and drive to the trailhead. Two hours later, I return to my car and check the activity app on my watch, fully intending to message Dr. Hawkins to brag about my early start to meeting my activity and exercise goals.
“What the hell?” When I look at my watch, there are notifications that Eli has already completed an eight-mile run and a weight lifting workout—exceeding all of his daily goals.
Before I can figure out a response, my watch chimes with a message from him.
Dr. Hawkins: Good job! Keep up the hard work.
That’s his response to the notification he got about the workout I just completed.
“Oh, I’m keeping it up.” I breathe a determined sigh, securing my bike to its carrier. On the way home, I stop by the gym to make sure I exceed his weight lifting workout. Then I hustle home to get a shower since the drive to his parents’ house is forty-five minutes, and I don’t want to be late.
“Hey, what are you—”
I hold up my hand to my mom as she pours coffee for herself and my dad. “No time to talk. I have to get showered.”
“Why aren’t you at work?”
“I’ll explain later.” I jump into the shower, trying my best to multitask—suds and shave while planning out the appropriate outfit. Settling on a dark eggplant skirt and a pale pink button-down blouse with matching flats, I blow out my hair, and then apply my lip balm while pulling out of the driveway.
The traffic isn’t too bad late Sunday morning. Things I wouldn’t know because I’ve always been at work by now. The guilt of not being at work continues to eat at me, but the idea of getting to spend time with Dr. Hawkins and Romeo numbs the agitation grinding against my nerves. I pull into their circle drive at 10:30. The blue Tesla is nowhere to be seen, so I wait.
A red Lexus SUV pulls up behind me ten minutes later. I know that car and the woman getting out—Dr. Hathaway. She unfastens Roman from his car seat and walks up beside my car, giving me a polite smile. I smile back and slowly open my door. If I stay inside, she might tell his parents. Then I’ll be the weird woman sitting in their driveway. There is no disputing my slightly weird personality, but I try to avoid consciously putting it on display to the whole world.
So, instead of being the weird stranger sitting in my car, I turn into the weird stranger