He was like my father in that regard. He never talked about his job. And I never asked. I guess I had more in common with my mom than I thought. Or maybe I just understood things now that I didn’t understand back then. It had felt safer to wonder when I was a teenager. Now I knew the consequences that too much curiosity could bring.

The day dragged by at school. I still loved studying the history and evolution of animation. But we were so close to presenting our thesis productions that class had begun to seem like a waste of time. Who wanted to discuss the merits of Cheburashka, this obscure animated Russian film from the 70s, when we all still had so much more work to do on our own films? You know, the ones that would decide our grades and score us jobs when our expensive education was done.

Which reminded me that I had agreed to host Group B’s soft presentations this weekend. Good thing I was making Victor dinner tonight. I could let him know people would be coming over.

With that thought in mind, I rushed out of class like a goat freed from its pen as soon as Jacoby said we could go.

“Hey, Dawn! Dawn, hold up!” a voice called out behind me as I headed straight toward the pickup circle to meet Wayne.

The voice belonged to Asher. With a smidge of guilt, I sped up, trying to pretend I didn’t hear him.

I had been full-on avoiding Asher ever since Victor and I came to our agreement. I mean, our marriage wasn’t real in the emotional sense. And we hadn’t made each other any promises that extended beyond May 25th. But I still felt bad about talking to another guy behind Victor’s back, even if he was only my husband on paper.

Besides, what would I say to Asher, even if I wasn’t having these weird grey-area guilt issues around my marriage? What good way was there to explain that Victor and I had decided to act as if we were really a couple until we quite permanently weren’t?

The answer was zero. There was no good way to explain this crazy thing I was doing with Victor. So I’d been going out of my way for the last few weeks not to.

I’d hoped to go on not explaining myself for a few weeks more. Like, at least until May 25th. But no dice. Quick running steps sounded behind me. Then there was Asher, tapping me on the shoulder so that I couldn’t possibly pretend I didn’t hear or see him.

“Oh, hey, Asher,” I said, trying to keep all the dread out of my voice. “Can we talk later? I’m in a huge rush.”