We’re rich but now there was a possibility of losing it all, whereas Tiffany’s family would be maintaining a middle class standard of living and continuing on without any change in their lives. Aunt Ira would probably offer to buy my dress. Then we would have to shop at department stores and discount stores for a good deal. Plus, if Aunt Ira bought my dress, Tiffany would probably think she was better than me.
“This just stinks!”
I wished life could go back to the way it was last week. I didn’t have a care in the world. Life was great. We were on top of the world.
Now this.
Lost money. Lost status. Lost reputation. Lost dignity. Maybe we would have to move to a smaller house or apartment. Maybe we would have to sell my car that I got for my sixteenth birthday. So much uncertainty.
How could I concentrate on my studies, on getting a dress to go to the prom, on the joy of driving my car? My life was so messed up.
And I didn’t do anything wrong.
4
The note on the car started my emotional withdrawal from Fairfield Oaks.
I’d always thought of myself as an Oakie, the tag given to those with diehard school spirit. The name for our sports teams was the Spartans. I was a Spartan through and through. This was my school, a school I loved and thought I was a vital part of; evidently, not everybody thought the same.
The note had pierced a place deep inside of me that stung as much as the shock of Dad’s arrest. I couldn’t deal with it now, so I tucked this new wound away in my heart, hiding it from everyone.
I ran in the park again today, although I longed to walk leisurely with Mom and talk about what had happened. In just a few days, she had gone into a shell and locked me out. I wanted to talk to her and tell her what I was feeling. I wanted to talk about my fears and how scared I was that things were not going to work out for Dad. But I didn’t know how to reach her.
I couldn’t talk to Dad either. He was so optimistic and assured me that everything would be OK. He didn’t want me to worry. How could I not? My life was changing. Our lives were changing. And I felt like I had no control over anything.
I was just spiraling along in limbo, and my feet weren’t touching the ground. Every day something happened to make me go in another direction without any end in sight.
I circled the park three times, veering off the path several times and crossing the playground whenever I saw someone up ahead who might want to talk to me. Running cleared my head and calmed me down and put me in a zone where I could cope.
And Steffy? Her snubs and little comments had hurt more than any of the other students because she was supposed to be my friend. Callie, Melanie, Stacie, and I had welcomed her into our group and made her feel like a rock star. We knew how hard it would be for a new student to fit into a new school and make friends, so we had introduced her to all the cool kids. We’d paved the way for her. And now she took every opportunity to make me feel bad.
I looked up towards the sky. “Where are you, God?” I screamed, tears streaming from my eyes.
I felt so alone. What was the use in trying to get God’s attention anyway? He had taken life as I knew it away from me.
I wished I could just leave school for good, take my savings and hop on a plane and go to an island or foreign country and never come back.
What was I thinking? If I did that I’d miss going to the prom with Jay.
When I got to school I saw a commotion around Mrs. Clancy’s office. Students were lined up in the hallway outside her office. Callie exited the office as I passed. She caught up with me.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Police are interviewing everybody in the student parking lot,” she said. “They’re going to find out who defaced your car. How did you get to school today?”
“I drove Mom’s car. She said she wouldn’t be using it.”
The day proceeded normally, except during lunch period when Mrs. Clancy announced on the intercom that the students who had written on my car had been identified and disciplined. She said that the school would not tolerate vandalism of private property on school grounds and anyone else caught doing so would also be punished. She said that all students must be treated with respect, and if anyone disagreed, they should transfer to another school.
Wow! I was impressed. Deep down inside I had believed that neither the school nor the police would do anything. I was wrong. At least I could hold my head up and not feel worthless. Mrs. Clancy had shown that I, as a student, was valued.
My good feelings towards all didn’t last long.
Steffy had started eating lunch with everybody else except Callie, Stacie, Melanie, and me, her closest friends. As we were leaving the cafeteria, Steffy was also leaving.
“We don’t see you much anymore,” Callie said. “What’s up with that?”
Steffy looked me straight in the eye. “You are toxic assets.”
Melanie gasped. “How can you say such a thing? Lauren is our friend. Friends support each other.”
“I’m a beast. Who knew?” Steffy stalked out the cafeteria and down the hall.
“Lauren, I’m so sorry,” Stacie said.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. I went to my locker to get books for my afternoon classes.
Who was I kidding? It did matter. In fact, it mattered more than I cared to admit.
What had happened? I was considered one of the popular students, a leader. In a matter of a few days I had become an outcast.
I felt rudderless. No one knew what to say to me. They averted their eyes and looked away when I was around.
After school, I worked on the story I had been assigned for the newspaper. When I walked into the newspaper office Mrs. Stevens smiled and said she was glad to see me. Even though I hadn’t felt like working on the story the past few days, I told her that the story would make the deadline.
“I knew I could count on you,” she said.
Just those words of support made me feel like a real student again, that I was actually contributing something to my school.
“I’m glad you realized you’ve got to keep going forward, even though you’re going through a difficult time,” Mrs. Stevens added.
I couldn’t stop myself from responding, “But my situation is worse than difficult. If you only knew!”
“I know about difficult situations,” she said. A glimmer of pain briefly landed on her face. “During the summer I went back to school to learn the tools needed to keep pace with the changes in journalism, media, and technology and how to use technology in the classroom to prepare students for the future. With what I learned I could easily handle the school newspaper becoming an online publication. I felt as if the Fairfield administration was using the newspaper conversion as an excuse to have one less African-American teacher.”
And I thought I was the only one with problems! Mrs. Stevens was her usual self every day. She’d acted as if her not being here next year was no big deal.
“What are you going to do?”
Mrs. Stevens smiled knowingly. “Right now I don’t have any idea what I’ll do. But I do know that all things work together for good for those that love and trust in God.”
“Is that something you heard from a TV preacher?”
“Lauren, it comes from the Bible, from Romans 8:28.”
“Mrs. Stevens, I just can’t see any good coming out of our situation. It is all bad!”
“God will never let you down, Lauren.”
Mom ordered Japanese food for dinner. We had chicken teriyaki and my favorite, teriyaki corn dogs. They were corn dogs piled high with crispy grilled vegetables. Absolutely heavenly!
“Your father talked me into going on our shopping trip to Chicago,” she said.
“Great! Do you need me to get any money from my savings account?”
“No, darling,” she said. “Your father reminded me that the jet was already paid for and we can still afford designer dresses for you girls.”
“The jet?�
��
Mom smiled, “Yes. It was going to be a surprise. He had chartered a jet to take us to Chicago and a limo to pick us up from the airport as a special treat for you and Tiffany.”
Between bites of my teriyaki corn dog, I gave Mom a big hug.
Dad came into the room smiling, knowing he had done something to make me happy. “I see you’ve heard the good news.”
I hugged him, too, a great big bear hug like he used to give me.
This might be our last splurge, but I felt really, really good. I knew they did it for me. This was a sacrifice for them, and they probably could’ve used the money for lawyer’s fees or something else to help Dad get out of this mess, but they used it on me. Going on the trip to Chicago meant that they truly loved me.
During dinner, we planned the trip from start to finish. Sitting around the table making plans felt like old times, even though those old times had only been a week ago.
“I want you and Tiffany to get to know each other on this trip and become close. You are kinfolk,” Mom said. “When I was growing up, I had your Aunt Ira. Neither you nor Tiffany have siblings. I want you both to know that you can depend on each other.”
“OK, Mom, I’ll do better and try to get to know her.”
“Then the trip will be worth it,” Dad said.
Before going to bed, I sent Tiffany an e-mail telling her that I was looking forward to our trip to Chicago shopping for prom dresses and how much fun we were going to have seeing the city. I’m sure she was shocked. She sent back a short text.
Me, too.
A few minutes later I received another text from her. We’re still going?
Why did she have to ask if we were still going? I had just told her we were. She’s just trying to make me feel bad.
Before I could answer, another text from her came through. With what’s going on w/ Unc, wasn’t sure.
Why should I try to know her better? She is such a dweeb! I didn’t even respond.
5
I took extra care with dressing every morning.
Appearances were important. I made sure my clothes were neat and clean and every hair in place. My thick long black hair flowed past my shoulders. To get this look I had a standing appointment with my hair stylist every six weeks. She used a relaxer on my hair, so even though I had been running in the park and sweating, my hair kept its straightness.
Every morning I put on my Paparazzi shades by Tanevery, a hot new designer. If they were not on my eyes, they were across the top of my head. I topped off my look with one of my white long sleeved fitted buttoned shirts opened at the collar and a pair of jeans. I needed my appearance to speak for me, to say I was whole, my family was whole, and we were getting through this little setback.
My friends dressed the same way. The only thing that distinguished us from each other was our hair color and facial features. My hair was black. Callie’s hair was black. She was Asian, her ancestors from South Korea. The twins, Melanie and Stacie, had brown hair. And Steffy’s hair was blonde. Our classmates called us The Fairfield Quints, short for quintuplets. They’re going to have to shorten that to The Fairfield Quads since Steffy had shown her true colors and didn’t want to be around anyone associated with me.
Soon things got back to normal or as normal as they could be. I went to school every day. I worked on my newspaper story after school. But my saving grace was being in the park every morning before school.
I ran every day for a week until I could run no more. Now I would come to the park and just sit. I sat on one of the benches overlooking the river and let the sounds of the water rushing down river wash over me. I could breathe out here. I breathed in gulps of fresh air, which rejuvenated me. The air revived my brain and cascaded through my lungs. It went into my pores and cells. I gulped in all the air I could until the numbness went away. Then I could go to school and have a normal day.
But there was something missing deep inside. My world had turned upside down, and I couldn’t put myself back together again.
Mom’s park friends spoke to me, but they had stopped asking about her long ago. I half spoke to them. I didn’t want to be bothered. I wanted to be left alone. I needed to feel normal, so I spent this time talking to myself. I will get through this day unscathed. I will be happy today. My mind is strong, therefore, I can handle anything. I move through today with ease. The fresh air revitalized me and made me human again for the hours I spent in school.
Being home had also taken on a semblance of normalcy. But there was something between Mom and Dad that wasn’t normal. They argued a lot. First, they spoke in hushed tones. When I entered the room, they would change the subject. I only overheard the end of their disagreement. But there was tension between the two of them when there used to be peace and harmony. I didn’t understand what this might mean for our family. I just couldn’t handle any more drama in my life.
Mom had started cooking again, mainly to feed the many people who worked at our dining room table on Dad’s case. Every day when I got home from school, Mom was in the kitchen cooking meals like spaghetti, lasagna, and chili, to feed lots of people. Sometimes the lawyers and law clerks worked late into the night and would order pizza around ten o’clock. I usually grabbed a slice on the way to my room.
The evening before our Chicago trip I came home from school and Mom was in the kitchen making hamburgers, fries, and a mixed green salad for dinner. The lawyers got their food and went back to the dining table. Mom, Dad, and I ate in the kitchen. This was our ritual, as if life was back to normal. We usually talked about our day, mainly mine, but today I had something else on my mind.
“Dad, what are they working on?” I asked, nodding towards the people in the dining room.
“Nothing you need to be concerned about, Kitten,” Dad said.
I put down my fork, which held an assortment of salad fixings. “Dad, I’m not a baby anymore. You can tell me what these people are working on.”
He looked at me, as if making a decision. I could see he didn’t want to talk about it. In his own way, I’m sure he wanted to protect me from the horrors of the real world.
Finally, he said, “Not now. Later, when everyone has gone home.”
Around nine thirty that night, Dad called me into his study. I was amazed at the disorder. Papers were everywhere, file drawers were open, and stacks of folders were piled on the floor. In the past when I had come in here to talk to Dad, everything had been neat and in its proper place. Dad, behind his desk, motioned for me to sit in a chair across from him.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
I looked at the disarray. “Everything.”
“I don’t know where to begin,” he said.
“Start at the arrest,” I said.
Dad smiled. “That’s a good place to start.”
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. When he began talking again, his voice was barely above a whisper. I had to lean in to hear him.
“I am managing director at Williams Ortiz L.L.P. In a nutshell, the senior officers of the firm are accused of bilking money from clients and using the money to create grand lifestyles. As I told you last week, I was not involved in taking any money.”
“Then why are they accusing you?”
“It seems that Peter may have used hedge funds to raise money for the firm. Unfortunately, he made up fake financial statements for one of his clients and together with fake notes he also crafted, he sold the notes to hedge funds. The crime was that he did it without the clients’ approval or knowledge.”
“So how do you come in?” I asked. “And Mr. Ortiz?”
“Well, Sam has his name on the firm. He’s a partner, and naturally, all partners will be investigated. I’m a senior officer of the firm, therefore I’m being investigated.”
“Did you know what was going on?”
“No,” he said. He drew in a deep breath and leaned across the desk. “There’s more.”
I waited, afraid of what he was going to
say next.
After a while he continued, “The firm sometimes receives settlements for clients that are invested and paid out over a number of years. These are called structured settlements. Sam is accused of forging financial letters and financial statements that showed that the money was still in the accounts when it was not. The authorities are saying that he sold those accounts to investors who paid a reduced amount for them. The money was supposed to go to clients but didn’t. And Sam is saying that he didn’t forge the letters. He says Peter or somebody else did and signed his name.”
My heart stopped. I didn’t know if I wanted to hear anymore, but I had to ask. “What are they accusing you of?”
“Right now, they’re accusing me of being a party to this scheme.”
Dad looked me in the eye. “But I wasn’t. My first hearing of this was when everybody else heard.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“My job was to manage the other attorneys in the firm. I assigned them cases. I oversaw their work. That’s all I did. I’m not a partner in the firm. I didn’t sign anybody’s checks or have signatory authority on any of the firm’s accounts. Only Peter and Sam had that authority.”
“Can you prove you had nothing to do with it?” I asked.
His eyes seemed far away, as if he were looking into the future. “Yes, Kitten, I can.”
“How? Can you get back into the office to go over your files?”
“No, a receiver has been appointed to sort out the whole mess. It’ll take months to finish everything. But I’m no fool,” he said. “Ever since I started my first job, I’ve kept duplicate records of all my work. What’s not in these files is on computer disks. That’s why these people are here every day and night. My lawyers have them going through my files to build my case.”
“If the receiver is going to find out the same thing, why do you have to use your money?”
“I want to make sure we’re on the same page. Take last week for instance. The receiver said there’s a notation in the files that I received an $8 million bonus last year. I didn’t. On the same day that the $8 million is recorded, I have a cancelled bonus check for $780,000.”
The People in the Park Page 3
