Monday mornings used to be my enemy. Now they're just another hurdle in the endless obstacle course of single parenthood. I slide eggs onto Shane's pte, watching steam curl up from the perfectly cooked yellow surface. Two weeks into college, and he's already looking worn around the edges.

  "Eat up," I say, pcing toast on the table. "Brain food."

  Shane mumbles something that might be thanks, poking at his breakfast with his fork like he's performing an autopsy rather than preparing to eat.

  "Hey," I say, keeping my voice light as I slide into my seat. "What's wrong, Shane?"

  "Nothing," he answers too quickly, shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

  I gnce at Diane, who's already halfway through her breakfast. She catches my look and gives a small shrug, shaking her head slightly. No help there.

  The kitchen falls into uncomfortable silence, broken only by the scrape of forks against ptes and the soft hum of the refrigerator. I take a bite of my own eggs, trying to figure out how to navigate whatever storm is brewing in my son's head.

  "Is someone bullying you?" I finally ask, the words feeling clumsy and obvious even as they leave my mouth.

  Shane's fork pauses halfway to his mouth. "Uhhh... well... no, not really..."

  My heart nearly shits itself. The thought of someone being cruel to my son makes my blood pressure spike, but I force myself to stay calm.

  "Shane," I say, putting down my fork. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me."

  "It's my calculus teacher," he finally admits. "She says I'm hopeless. And she did it in front of the whole css."

  "What?" The word comes out sharper than I intended.

  "Calculus is hard," he continues, still not meeting my eyes. "I stayed up te Saturday night reviewing the material. I think I know it better now, but I don't know..."

  Diane sets her gss down with more force than necessary. "Who's your calculus professor?"

  "Dr. Kessler," Shane mumbles.

  "Oh... yeah, she fucking sucks," Diane says with feeling, her expression darkening.

  "Hmmm," I say, my mind suddenly racing.

  "What?" Diane asks, looking at me curiously.

  "No, it just sounds like a familiar name," I reply, trying to pce where I've heard it before.

  "I'm fine, Dad, really," Shane insists, finally looking up from his pte. "No one ughed at me because she's mean to the other students too."

  I study his face, searching for signs that he's putting on a brave front. There's definitely something there, a tightness around his eyes, a slight downward pull at the corners of his mouth, but he doesn't seem devastated, just discouraged.

  "How about we get you a tutor?" I suggest, already mentally calcuting how much that would cost against this month's budget.

  To my surprise, Shane's expression brightens slightly. "There's a girl in my css. She's been my friend since we met. We sit next to each other." He hesitates, his cheeks flushing just enough to be noticeable. "Could I have her over this week to help me study?"

  "A girl, huh?" I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips.

  Shane shifts in his seat, suddenly very interested in his toast. "Yeah."

  "Yeah, sure, of course, Shane," I say, trying not to make a big deal out of it. "Should I try to hire her?"

  "No, she said she'd be happy to help me," he replies quickly.

  "Ooooo," Diane coos from across the table. "Do you like her?"

  "I don't know," Shane mutters, his face now definitely red.

  "As long as she's nice, Shane, it's no problem."

  I gnce at Diane, who gives me a subtle nod that tells me she'll look into this mystery girl. She helps me keep an eye on Shane, especially when it comes to women who might take advantage of him.

  "What's her name?" I ask, trying to sound casual as I take another bite of my eggs.

  "Olivia," Shane says, and I swear there's a hint of a smile pying at the corners of his mouth. "Olivia Pembroke."

  "Pembroke?" I can't help but muse aloud. "That's an interesting name."

  "It's a very white name," Diane comments.

  "You know, Shane, I just want to say... you don't have to only date white girls."

  Shane's head snaps up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What the fuck, Dad? Why would you even say that?"

  I feel my face heating up. "I don't know! Just in case... Some parents care about that kind of thing." I wave my fork awkwardly. "I don't, though. Obviously."

  Diane bursts out ughing, nearly choking on her orange juice. "Oh my god, Dad. You're so progressive." She mocks.

  "I'm trying to be supportive," I mutter, shoveling eggs into my mouth to stop myself from saying anything else embarrassing.

  "I'm not even dating her," Shane protests, his face now the color of a fire truck. "She's just helping me with calculus."

  "Well," I say, trying to backpedal out of this awkward conversation, "I'm looking forward to meeting her."

  The words come out more genuine than I expected. Despite my embarrassing attempt at being the cool, progressive dad, I am curious about this girl who's made my shy son comfortable enough to invite her over. Olivia Pembroke. The name sounds like it belongs on a country club membership list, but names can be deceiving.

  Shane's face softens slightly, the mortification fading. "Thanks, Dad. She's... she's really smart."

  Something suddenly nags at the back of my mind. "Wait what was your professor’s first name?"

  Shane frowns. "Professor Kessler? Susan, I think. Susan Kessler."

  "Hmm." I repeat as I take a slow sip of my coffee, trying to keep my face neutral while my brain races. Susan Kessler. The name hits like a sledgehammer to my chest.

  It could be a long shot, Boston's got plenty of Kesslers, but I've definitely entertained a few at the casino. There was that corporate executive st spring who couldn't get enough of me, and then the surgeon with the penis tattoo on her hip... and wasn't there a professor?

  "Dad?" Shane's voice cuts through my thoughts. "You okay? You look weird."

  I blink, realizing I've been staring at my coffee cup for too long. "Yeah, fine. Just... thinking about something."