“For sure.” Yasmen meets my eyes for half a second before looking away.
I walk next door and up the steps to the front porch, where she stands. I want to ask if she’s sure about babysitting, but her shoulders tense as if braced for a blow because she knows me well enough to assume that’s the question Iwouldask.
Instead I stroll over to the swing and sit. Sometimes I wish I didn’t know Yasmen so well. We both have these tells, secret passageways to our thoughts that took us years to find. No one knows her better than I do, and she knows me better than anyone else. So when she sinks her teeth into the pillowy flesh of her bottom lip, like she’s doing now, it means she’s working up to a subject she’s reluctant to discuss.
“Kids ready?” I ask, giving her the chance to say what she needs to say. Otis puts his head in my lap, and I indulge him with a stroke at the sleek fur of his neck.
“Uh, yeah.” Yasmen slides the yoga mat off her shoulder and leans against the porch rail. “But there’s something I want to talk to you about first.”
“What’s up?”
“We need to get things under control with Deja. She skipped English yesterday.”
“You sure?” I ask, frowning. “That doesn’t sound like Day.”
“She’s been less and less concerned about her grades. It’s the first month of school and I’m already worried. She was an honor student before.”
“She’s been through a lot, Yas. We all have.”
“I don’t need you telling me what we’ve been through. What Deja’s been through.”
I stiffen, my hand stilling in Otis’s fur. “I wasn’t trying to tell you anything. I’m just saying maybe we cut her some slack because things haven’t been easy.”
“There’s cutting her some slack, and then there’s being irresponsible as a parent.”
My left eyebrow inches up, and I wonder if she remembers that’smytell that she’s provoking me. “You saying I’m an irresponsible father?”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that.” Yasmen drops the yoga mat and links her hands at the nape of her neck. “I’m just saying we can’t ignore her skipping class because we’ve had a hard time.”
“You’re sure she skipped?”
“Yeah, she said she was watching a broadcast of some natural hair event.”
“The hell?”
“Like I said, you should talk to her.”
“What’d she say whenyoutalked to her?”
“Just that I overreacted and that she won’t do it again.”
“Well, if she skipped, there should be consequences. Maybe no posting to social media for a week?”
“That sounds good. We have access to everything. We can shut it down.”
“I can tell her today.”
“You sure we don’t need to do it together? United front kinda thing?”
“Considering how strained things have been between you two, it might go better coming from me.”
There’s a brief flash of relief on her face, and then she grimaces. “I’m not exactly her favorite person right now.”
“Maybe you’re being too sensitive.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Irritation slashes her expression. “When am I too sensitive?”
“Um…now?”