“You know exactly what.”
“Sasha’s project?”
“She sat on it!”
I covered my mouth.
“I’m sorry?”
“It was folded with the blank side up. I thought it was scrap poster board. She picked it up.”
“And?”
“What do you mean, and?”
“I assume she can read.”
There was silence.
Then I heard a woman’s voice.
“Tell her.”
Adele.
I sat straighter.
“Is Adele there?”
Harold muttered something.
Adele spoke louder.
“He told me he was already driving the girls to school.”
I stopped smiling.
“What?”
Harold interrupted.
“I didn’t say every morning.”
Adele made a disgusted sound.
“You told me you were already out with your daughters anyway.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Adele, did you ask Harold to drive you?”
“No.”
Harold sighed.
“This is getting ridiculous.”
She ignored him.
“I told him I could get a rideshare. He said picking me up wasn’t a problem because he was already doing school drop-off.”
There it was.
Not only had Harold refused to help us.
He’d used the parenting he wasn’t doing to make himself look helpful to somebody else.
Then I heard a car door open.
“Adele?”
“I’m getting out.”
“You don’t need to—”
