I have seen Dorothy here and there since the baby was born. She was on an ankle bracelet--house arrest--for a while--but I think that's over with now. She is staying down south of 51st, across the street from Junior's family's new house. A couple of weeks ago she left a blue snowsuit for the baby hanging off the knob of our front door. Thanksgiving night (yesterday) around 10 p.m. there was a knock at the door, and I suspect it was Dorothy. It was either her or Tony the car wash guy. Either way, we didn't answer--Papi and I were just finishing our late-night turkey dinner for two after the baby went to bed. The baby and I had gone to a vegetarian Thanksgiving feast earlier while Papi was working. We picked him up after work, came home, put the baby to bed (he'd fallen asleep in the car so we just hauled the car seat up to his room and left him in it), then sat down and had a little turkey and pie. Dorothy's knock came just as we finished the dishes.
"Who on earth is knocking at 10 p.m. on Thanksgiving?" I thought. "There is no way I'm answering that door." Sometimes Tony Car Wash knocks late when the lights are still on, so it might have been him, but I'm trying to retrain my late-night pals to quit bothering me at those hours. It's so rare I'm up past 8 p.m. these days, and when I am, I just want to enjoy some peace and quiet.
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