Except she didn't drive on any of those days. And this time, instead of waiting for the school to call me, she called Asher directly. She knew exactly who to call to get exactly what she wanted.
I text back:
Is she okay? Do you need me to come home?
No. I've got it. See you tonight.
That's it. He's got it. I don’t hear anything else from him. At six, I leave the shop and drive home. When I walk in, the house is quiet. Asher's briefcase is on the counter. His suit jacket is draped over a chair.
I find them in the living room. Devon is curled up on the couch with a blanket, watching TV. He's sitting beside her, feet on the ottoman, scrolling through his phone. So she didn’t scurry off to her room to avoid talking to him the way she did with me. They both look up when I walk in.
"Hey," Asher says softly. "How was work?"
"Fine." I set my bag down. "How are you feeling, Devon?"
"Better now." Her voice is small. Fragile. Nothing like the dismissive tone she uses when we're alone. "Asher came and got me. I didn't want to bother you again."
"You're not a bother."
But she's already looking back at Asher, her expression grateful and adoring. "Thank you for coming. I know you were busy."
"You're more important," he says, and the tenderness in his voice makes my chest tighten.
I stand there feeling like an intruder in my own living room. "I'm going to start dinner," I say.
Neither of them responds. It’s like I’m fucking background, an invisible dust mote floating through the air. I go into the kitchen and pull ingredients for stir fry with more force than necessary. Chicken. Vegetables. Rice. I can hear their voices from the other room. I can't make out the words, but I can hear her laugh softly at something he says.
I feel crazy because all I can think is that she got what she really wanted.
Asher's attention.
The next call from the school comes on Monday.
"Mrs. Stevens, we wanted to reach out about Devon. The anxiety episodes over the past week that required her to leave school early also seem to be affecting her ability to focus in class. We're concerned that she's struggling to manage the traditional classroom environment right now."
I'm in the car, on speaker, driving back from a vendor meeting. "What are you suggesting?"
"We have an excellent online learning program. It would allow Devon to complete her coursework from home at her own pace, which might reduce some of the stress she's experiencing. Given everything she's been through, it might be the best option for her mental health."
"I appreciate that. Can I discuss it with my husband and get back to you?"
"I'd hoped he would have told you that we discussed it with him on Friday. I thought bringing it up with you would help move it along because we do think sooner is better. The longer she struggles in the classroom, the harder it will be for her to catch up academically."
I'm flabbergasted that he didn't mention it to me. What the fuck? When I get home, Asher is already there. Early again. He's in the kitchen with Devon, making her tea.
"Hey," I say. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
"Sure." He hands Devon the mug. "I'll be right back."
We go into his office and I close the door. "The school called," I say. "They said they discussed online school with youlast week. You didn't think to mention this to me over the weekend?"
He doesn't bother to look regretful. "Yeah. I was thinking it over. I was going to tell you."
"When? After you'd already decided? Because that's what it sounds like." My voice is sharper than I intend. "They said they haven't heard back from you. So you talked to them, and then you just... what? Forgot to tell your wife about a major decision regarding our household?"
"It's not a major decision. It's?—"
"Itisa major decision, Asher. Devon lives in our house. She's part of our family. And you discussed a major change with the school and didn't include me in that conversation."
