William Edwards Leaves His Screaming Son on a Friday Afternoon in Hartford
“It is just a standard enrollment fee for the autumn semester,” she said.
“Twelve thousand dollars is a lot of money for a deposit, Marsha,” I said. “We have never discussed changing his preschool.”
“It is a private kindergarten program,” she said, her tone sharp and mocking. “The kind of place that actually teaches discipline instead of letting children run wild. I paid it from my personal savings, so you do not need to worry about the joint account.”
“But we agreed to look at the neighborhood public school together,” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me about New Horizons?”
“Because you analyze every decision until the opportunity is gone, William,” she said, setting her mug down with a hard clack. “I am doing what is best for our son while you sit around trying to diagnose him.”
She picked up her keys from the counter and walked past me without another word, leaving the pink slip of paper behind.
