“Well, okay. It’s not about Emily. I’m here if and when you’re ready to discuss what really has you worked up today.” She takes a bite of her salad.
I blow out a long, slow breath, keeping my gaze away from her knowing inspection of me. “I’ve been kinda seeing Dorothy recently.”
“Transporter Dorothy? Superhero cape Dorothy?”
I nod.
“Wonderful! Is that going well?”
“Yes and no. She gets along really well with Roman. She calls him little Romeo, and for whatever reason, that makes me like her that much more. But I’ve failed at asking her out on a real date. I mean … I’ve tried, but she always assumes it’s a playdate with Roman—like I’m vetting her for a babysitter. And I’ve had serious issues getting the nerve to say otherwise because this part of me wonders if she thinks I’m too old for her, or maybe I’m just not her type. And yes, I’m afraid of rejection.”
Mom chuckles. She doesn’t extend me the same level of professionalism as she does to her patients. Another downside to the family discount.
“So did you hire her to babysit Roman?”
“No!” My frustration even surprises myself. I rub my temples. “I kissed her. And by kissed her, I mean I think I scared her to death or completely offended her. Hell, she’ll probably file a sexual harassment complaint against me.” I shake my head. “I’m out of practice, for reasons you know. So I won’t rehash all of it, but this single life doesn’t fit me. Or maybe it does. Maybe the point is I’m supposed to stay single. Clearly something about me drives women away.”
“Okay. Time out. I draw the line when you start picking on my baby. My handsome, talented, caring beyond words, baby boy. There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with Julie or Dorothy. We’ve been over this. Relationships are fluid and ever-changing. People are fluid and ever-changing. Honor who you are, not who you aren’t. Let people come and go from your life without feeling the need to catch them and keep them. Stop looking at the wrong reflections. Your happiness is a reflection of you and only you. I’m sure you’ve broken many hearts without even knowing it. I know nurses at the hospital think you’re a god. If you don’t give them a second glance, does that mean something is wrong with them?”
I rub my chin, letting her words sink in, but it’s hard because all I can think about is Dorothy Mayhem. “I can’t stop thinking about her. And I have no idea why.”
“Julie?”
“Dorothy.” I give Mom a sheepish glance.
A record breaking grin steals her whole face. “Tell me more.”
I feel my own grin do its thing, and I don’t even try to hold back because my Dorothy grin has a mind of its own—an uncontrollable force. “It’s ridiculous. Just so ridiculous. We’ve had a handful of interactions, but if I’m completely honest, my addiction …” I roll my eyes at myself. “Yes … an addiction that started the second she walked onto the elevator weeks ago wearing these outrageous red shoes and a look on her face that did something so profound to me in that moment … I can’t find the words to explain it. I just knew something in my life shifted and would never be the same. And yes, I know how completely ridiculous that sounds. How girly, chick-flick movie that sounds. But again, if I’m honest, that’s what happened. And now I can’t stop thinking about her. When I’m physically near her, I feel like I did before I met Julie.”
“You were a teenager when you met Julie.”
“Exactly! Dorothy makes me feel like a stupid, word-fumbling teenager. But she also makes me feel like I have a new chance at life. One where I see things through her eyes.”
Mom chews her salad, head cocked a bit. Then she points her fork at me. “And how do things look through her eyes?”
It’s hard to articulate. My gaze returns to the window as I look for even a few inadequate words to describe the indescribable. “Life is more vibrant through her eyes. Simple things like matching undershirts and tennis shoes bring about unfathomable joy. In her world, everyone is equal. And words are poor expressions of feelings. I could just stand in a room with her, not saying a single word, and feel deliriously happy. Her eyes … she has the bluest eyes, and the way she rolls them when she talks animatedly just makes me search for absolutely any excuse to make her talk. And the tiny smirk that seems to be her resting face is like being on the receiving end of the best secret ever.”
Mom’s eyebrows slide up her forehead.
“I know!” I shake my head, laughing at myself. “It’s insane. Just commit me now. I’ve known her all of two seconds, and most of our time together has been with Roman. I’m delusional, just say it. This is a side effect from my breakup with Julie. Maybe my own midlife crisis. Before long, I’m going to be one of those people claiming to see the Virgin Mary in my cereal bowl, or aliens taking me to their planet at night and implanting chips into my brain. Tomorrow, I’ll probably turn into a werewolf on my morning jog through the forest.”