The Latchkey Girls

by Leigh Irwin

  “Don’t you dare touch me!” she said. A few seconds later, I heard something crash and break.

  “How could you do that? That’s our wedding picture!” Mom cried. “Breaking things won’t help, and I’m not stupid. You were talking to some woman in Shanghai about money. I heard it clearly when I picked up the phone to call in to work. What have you gotten into, John?”

  I gulped, not believing what I’d just heard.

  “Nothing! Really!” Dad shouted. A long silence followed. I held my breath until I saw stars, then let it out with an involuntary whoosh.

  “If that’s true, then what’s going on?” Mom asked, her voice ominously quiet.

  I pulled up the hem of my T-shirt and wiped the sweat from my face, heart pounding.

  “I just told you. I’ve got a consulting job with a company that’s headquartered in Shanghai. I’ve been helping them design a training program for Chinese pilots, and they need to know where my payments should go. And that’s the truth!” There was a note of desperation in his voice.

  “I hope for all our sakes that you’re not lying. I just don’t know what to think,” Mom said. I heard the sounds of glass falling into the waste basket, and the bathroom door clicked closed. I snuck out the front door, closed it silently, waited a few seconds, and came back inside.

  “Hi! Anyone home?” I called out loudly and slammed the door behind me.

  “We’re up here,” Dad responded calmly. “Mom’s in the bathroom.”

  “Okay. I’m going to Emma’s to spend the night, if that’s all right.”

  “Sure.” Dad said. He sounded relieved. I ran up the stairs and jumped into the shower. Then, back in my room, I texted Emma, still wrapped in a towel, hair dripping onto my shoulders and down my back.

  “Can I stay over? Not good here.”

  She responded with a thumbs up emoji. I threw on some clothes, stuffed my sweats into my soccer backpack and yelled “Bye” as I left the house. I didn’t wait for a response.

  I helped Emma make spaghetti and salad for dinner. We ate with her family and then cleaned up the kitchen. Just doing normal things was a balm, plus it gave me time to think about what I’d just overheard. Emma kept looking at me curiously all through dinner, but she didn’t say anything until we’d gone up to her room.

  “Okay, so what’s going on? You don’t look good,” she said, frowning at me. I sighed.

  “You won’t believe this.” I toyed with the straps of my backpack, finally unzipping it and pulling out my sweats. “Mom accidently interrupted a phone call between Dad and some woman in China today. She said the woman was asking where to send the money, and Mom accused him of doing something illegal.”

  “Illegal? Like what?” Emma asked, her eyes searching my face.

  “Well, first of all, I’m not sure I believe Dad’s explanation. He said he’s consulting for a Chinese company, something about a training program for their pilots. His story sounds kinda lame to me, and I don’t think Mom bought it either.” I sagged back onto the bed, suddenly weak, but relieved to have unburdened myself. I searched my memory trying to remember exactly what Dad had said. Maybe it wasn’t so crazy after all. Maybe he was telling the truth. But down deep, a sense of dread festered and grew.

  Emma stood in the middle of the room, coiling her ponytail again, staring off into the distance. Then she strode across the room and jumped onto the bed next to me. Her eyes were wide.

  “Maybe your dad really is telling the truth. Let’s think about this for a minute. Why would your dad take a job he didn’t want your mom to know about? Do you really think it’s something illegal?”

  “I haven’t got a clue,” I said, feeling sick. We laid on our backs in silence. I stared up at the ceiling, suddenly exhausted.

  “Didn’t you say a while ago that one of the things your parents fought about was money? That might explain it. But why not tell your mom about this new job? Did he say how much extra money he was making?” Emma asked. She rolled over and faced me.

  “Money has definitely been a problem, but I can’t believe we’re so broke that he’d do something actually illegal. But come to think of it, they haven’t been fighting about money at all lately.” I searched my memory trying to remember when they’d fought about what. Everything blurred together.

  “So what do they fight about now?” Emma asked.

  My dinner was a heavy lump in my stomach. After another deep breath, I went on. “For a while a few months back, I was pretty sure Dad was having an affair. Mom accused him several times, but he always denied it. But today she brought that up again. They still fight about him being gone so much, and at least a couple of times, it was about this new job. I just don’t know what to think. And it’s getting worse. Today Dad threw their wedding picture across the room. You know, the one that sits on Mom’s dresser.”

  “You’re kidding! I never knew your dad threw things. He’s always seemed so low-key. That sounds like something I’d do, not your dad.”

  “He doesn’t do stuff like that very often, but when he’s really mad, you’d better stay out of his way,” I responded glumly.

  “And you’ve never said anything about him having an affair. Why not?” Emma asked.

  “I wasn’t sure about it, and honestly, I couldn’t stand to think about what would happen if it turned out to be true. Then when Dad suddenly came home with that fancy red sports car, I got even more confused. Where’d the money for that come from?”

  We were silent for several minutes. My head was spinning and a headache pounded at my temples. If Dad was moonlighting for some Chinese company, why was it such a secret? What if there was something illegal about this consulting job? I shuddered.

  “We need to figure out what’s really going on. But how?” Emma said, thinking out loud.

  “Emma, I’ve got a question for you,” I said, but then I didn’t know how to put it.

  “What? Sam? What did you want to ask?” she prodded.

  “Does your dad ever bring work home from his office?” I forced the words out, but my throat felt like it was closing up.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” Emma looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “Just listen for a minute. Is there any chance your dad ever brings classified information home from work? Like maybe he puts it somewhere your parents’ study? Everyone knows he works on secret projects and stuff…” I wasn’t at all sure where I was going with this. Emma crossed her arms and stared at me, saying nothing.

  “Remember when the FBI came and interviewed all the neighbors a few years ago? It was right before your dad got his security clearance,” I said.

  “So what? You aren’t suggesting that my dad is in on this, are you? Or that he gave your dad something he shouldn’t have?” Emma sat up, her eyes flashing in anger. I bolted upright next to her and raised my hands in mock surrender.

  “Calm down, calm down…. Not necessarily, but maybe. How else would Dad get hold of confidential information, if that’s really what he’s doing? And what’s he doing with it, if he has it? You know, it is possible your dad is somehow involved.” We sat in silence while I thought about it some more. Suddenly the vision of Dad and then Keith going upstairs popped into my head.

  “I never said anything about this at the time, but something weird happened on Thanksgiving at your house.”

  “What?” Emma eyed me suspiciously.

  “When we were cleaning up after dinner, I noticed Dad go upstairs. At first I thought maybe he just wanted to use the upstairs bathroom, but then…” I looked away from Emma, trying to remember the scene as exactly as possible. “About two or three minutes later, your dad went upstairs, too. I don’t think he noticed me, but he looked around, like he was making sure no one saw him.”

  Emma’s mouth dropped open. I gulped and went on.

  “They both stayed there for maybe ten minutes or so, and then they came back down—but not together. And maybe it’s just me, but it seemed like they avoided me
eting each other’s eyes after that.”

  Emma’s face looked pasty, so pale that her giant blue eyes seemed to take over her whole face. I felt terrible. Maybe I was misinterpreting everything. Maybe I hoped her dad was in as big a mess as mine seemed to be.

  “But the problem is, there’s really no reason for your dad to do something like that. You guys have always had plenty of money,” I mused.

  Emma relaxed a little bit, but I could tell she was really considering the possibility that her dad was somehow mixed up in whatever this was. It felt like we were in a bad spy movie. I could never have dreamed up anything half as insane as what we’d just been discussing.

  Emma said, “You’re right, we’ve never had to worry about money. Both of my parents have good jobs. And there’s also this trust fund that Mom’s parents set up for her. I don’t know exactly how much money she inherited, but I’m pretty sure it’s a lot.” She thought some more, then shook her head. I noticed the color was coming back into her face, although she hugged herself like she was freezing.

  “Come to think of it, that’s the only thing I’ve ever heard my parents fight about. My grandparents made Mom keep the trust in her name only when she and Dad got married. I know they didn’t want her marrying Dad, but I’m not sure why. Maybe they thought he just wanted her money. Anyway, my grandparents still don’t like him.” Emma stood and paced back and forth in front of her bed. “Mom and Dad agreed we’d spend only what they make from their jobs, and that was before I was even born. Mom’s never touched her trust fund as far as I know. It just sits there.”

  She paused at her bedroom window and looked outside for a time. Then she turned toward me and leaned against the window sill. “I really can’t see why my dad would get involved in something so dangerous, and I’m having trouble believing your dad would either.”

  I returned home just before noon the next day. I probably would have stayed at Emma’s longer, except I needed to ask my parents for money, of all things. Emma and I needed dresses and shoes for Winter Formal, and I’d put it off as long as possible. The mere thought of asking them for money, especially considering what I’d overheard the day before, made me quake in fear.

  On the other hand, my parents’ reactions might give me a clue about what was really going on. If they didn’t mind giving me the money, it might mean our money problems weren’t that serious, and if they freaked out about it, I’d know we were still struggling. I gritted my teeth and found them in the den, Mom reading and Dad watching TV.

  “Hi guys,” I said, trying to gauge their moods.

  “Did you have a nice time at Emma’s?” Mom asked, sounding content. Dad looked up from the TV and smiled at me.

  I mentally crossed my fingers, and took their greetings as a good sign. At least things seemed calm. Dad even realized I was there for once. Increasingly, he was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice me.

  “Sure. I always have a great time at Emma’s…. Umm, I wanted to ask a favor. I need some extra money for a dress and shoes for Winter Formal. It’s coming up soon. I’ve saved some of my allowance, but it won’t be enough,” I concluded, watching them closely and holding my breath.

  Dad’s eyes flickered, and he looked away momentarily. Mom stared at Dad. I couldn’t tell what either one was thinking. I stood halfway into the den, shifting from foot to foot, waiting. After what seemed like hours, Dad looked at me and grinned.

  “Well, that should be no problem at all. I’m glad you’re going to the dance; sounds like fun. Just use our joint credit card, and get whatever strikes your fancy.” He looked first at Mom and then at me.

  “Mom?” I said.

  “Well, if your father says it’s okay, it’s fine with me,” she responded after a beat, her eyes glued to Dad’s face. Did I see a challenge in his eyes? Did she look worried?

  “Thanks guys! This is fantastic. Keith’s dropping Emma and me off at the mall, and Pam will pick us up. I’ll be home by dinnertime! See ya!” I called as I turned and ran from the room.

  Unfortunately, my logic was flawed. There was no way to conclude anything from my parents’ reaction, although the realization didn’t hit me until later that day. Maybe it meant our money problems had eased; I hoped so. But why had they eased? Was it because Mom and Dad were working and making more, or because they just couldn’t bear to turn me down, even though they really couldn’t afford it? Or was it something else? Did we have money now because my dad had done something illegal to get it? Mom sure seemed to think so. I realized I hadn’t learned anything, as the unanswered questions swirled through my mind.

  Chapter 15

  Retail therapy worked for a while that afternoon. I put the whole mess at home out of my mind while we looked at dresses and shoes all over the mall. At best, I succeeded in pushing my worries to the back of my mind, where they kept growing, but silently.

  We tried on some ridiculous-looking dresses, modeling them for each other, before the frowning saleswoman intervened, and we were forced to get down to business. By the time Emma’s mom picked us up, we each had a new dress and shoes, and I was worn out. I dozed in the backseat of the car on the way home, while Emma and Pam chatted in the front.

  Back at Emma’s with her bedroom door firmly closed, we joked about what to call the growing debacle facing us: Was my dad a spy? Really? Was hers somehow involved, too? We needed a codename, and it had to be something that wouldn’t be understood by anyone but us. “MM” for Mysterious Money, “SC” for Shanghai Connection and several others were rejected before we decided on the rather unimaginative “CJ”, short for Consulting Job.

  I woke up especially early on Saturday, the day of Winter Formal. I’d never been to a formal dance before, although Emma had gone to last year’s. Her boyfriend at the time had taken her, but they’d broken up not long afterward. I’d spent that night babysitting up the street, feeling sorry for myself. I intended to have the best time ever, to make this evening one of my best memories. I decided to take a run and work off some of my nervous energy.

  We got ready for the formal at my house. Emma arrived with wet hair from her shower, her dress, shoes and overnight bag in tow. We applied and wiped off makeup several times, seeking the perfect look, did each other’s hair in up-do’s and slipped into our new dresses.

  Meanwhile, Emma’s and my parents were having an impromptu cocktail party downstairs, waiting for us to appear. The moms seemed as excited as we were, and I had no doubt that we’d be forced to pose for hundreds of pictures before we and our dates escaped. The guys had rented a limo for the evening, and it would ferry us to dinner, on to the dance and home again. Much classier than having parents drive us around! At last, Emma and I made our grand entrances, teetering down the stairs in our new high heels, trying not to trip.

  Emma’s dress was just like her: elegant. It had simple lines and little decoration, except for a few sequins that shimmered here and there on the long, navy blue gown. I’d chosen a short red dress, unable to resist its fire engine bold color. It had spaghetti straps that crossed in the back. The neckline was fairly tame, but the back plunged to the small of my back, where my tattoo should have been (another family argument that I’d lost).

  The parents took pictures while we waited for the guys to arrive. The doorbell finally saved us. I opened it to greet the guys and was immediately bedazzled by James. It was just a rented tux, but he looked so handsome, and I could tell by his shining eyes and appreciative grin that my dress was a hit. Behind him stood Tom, nervously shifting from foot to foot. Emma crossed the foyer and stood at my side. Tom’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open when he saw her. The guys brought us matching wrist corsages, made of creamy colored orchids, and we put them on. We pinned white rose boutonnieres onto their lapels, and then the parents took over. They took so many pictures that my face hurt from smiling.

  The rest of the evening was magical: dinner at a lovely restaurant, where I was so keyed up I could barely eat, followed by the dance. Jam
es made sure the conversation flowed, taking Tom under his wing, and by the time we walked through the doors of the gym, everyone was relaxed and exuberant. Emma and Tom drifted off together, and James and I headed to the dance floor, already crowded. The music was loud, precluding conversation. Punch and dessert were set up on one side of the room, staffed by parent chaperones. James and I danced until our faces ran with sweat. I abandoned my shoes under a chair after the first ten minutes, since my feet were already aching. Emma and I caught each other’s eye through the crowd on occasion. I was happy to see she seemed to be having a great time.

  The slow dances were few and far between, but we took advantage of all of them. I smiled up at James as we held each other, feeling like the silly love-struck teen I was. I never wanted the night to end. Too soon, it was time to meet the limo. The lights came up, and the four of us followed the crowd out of the steamy gym and into the foggy night.

  Misty halos rimmed the lights along the path to the parking lot. Emma shivered, and I watched Tom put his arm around her. She looked into his eyes and smiled as he pulled her close. They looked so great together, both so tall and good-looking. More than anything, it surprised me that my self-contained pal, Emma, seemed so obviously enchanted.

  At the front door of my house, James gathered me to him and we kissed. Our early shyness around each other had disappeared long before, and our kisses had an urgency and longing to them that took my breath away, always making me want more.

  “Without a doubt, this has been the best night of my life!” I said, facing him and holding both his hands in mine. Thank-you so much.”

  “You’re welcome. I have to say, this whole thing turned out much better than even I hoped it would,” James replied, a hint of a smile on his face. “And you look so beautiful! Not that you ever look bad, but that red dress is spectacular!” After another long kiss, I watched him bound down the driveway to the waiting limo, then I waved as it drove off and floated into the house.

  Emma had changed into sweats, and she was at our front door not five minutes later, her face alive with happiness and excitement.