Hoax (20 page)

             
His jaw moved back and forth as he studied the carpeted floor and chewed on the inside of his mouth.  “Why don’t you take a look at the first box with the journal and then we’ll talk about it, ok? Do you want us to leave or stay?  Or I can leave if you just need me to leave?   Sean can stay.”

             
“No, I want you both to stay.  I’m sure it’s nothing.  I’m sure it’s just financial records.”

             
“OK,” he said and sat on the loveseat in front of the desk.

             
Sean took the first box down and I opened the lid on the white cardboard box and I knelt on the floor next to it.  He went to sit beside Abel.

             
I didn’t see anything out of order with the tax records until I got to one that stumped me.  It was the first year I went to Wellsley.  One of my first experiences at Wellsley as a ‘big girl’ was handing the Headmaster, a man at the time, a huge yellow envelope that was tucked into my pink suitcase.  It was filled with cash.  It was an entire year’s tuition.  But the 1040 I now stared at said that my parent’s total income was a little under fifty thousand dollars.  How in the world do people pay forty thousand dollars in tuition when they made less than fifty? 

             
I turned the paper around and showed Abel and Sean.  “What are you thinking, honey?” Abel said and he looked like he already knew the answer but was looking for me to find out for myself.

             
“Wellsley costs forty thousand dollars a year.  My parents always, always paid cash, in full, for the entire year on the first day of school.  How can you do that if you make less than fifty thousand dollars?”

             
Sean and Abel looked at each other.  The Hardy Boys were about to get their nuts punched if they didn’t stop giving each other looks.  I rolled my eyes at them.

             
“Why don’t you read the journal, see if there’s something in there.” Sean said gently, like he was throwing a steak at a tiger.

             
“Ok,” I picked up the heavy journal and went to the same year as the 1040 I held. His mother’s entries were short and sweet.  Maybe not so sweet.

             
The Novak’s have substantial savings accounts, CDs, and investments.  It looks inconsistent with their income.  They also have no mortgage interest, no car payments, no debt, though they drive expensive cars and their house is worth upwards of 300,000 per their tax bill.  Their daughter also attends a private school that costs 90% of their annual income.  Mr. Novak also claims travel expenses that are almost equivalent to 50% of their income.  I have advised them of these inconsistencies and was told to file them as is.  Mrs. Novak came in to sign the forms before I mailed them in to the IRS but seemed removed from the situation.  They also paid me in cash, and insisted that I take double my usual fee. 

             
“Do you have a copy machine Sean?” I asked, never looking up from the journal.

             
“No, but she kept electronic copies.  I put them all on this.” He pulled a memory stick from his pocket and tossed it to me.

             
“Abel, tell me what you’re thinking.” It was a command, I was done with their tiptoeing around the princess.

             
“Truth?” he said and got squirmy again.

             
“Duh,” I said simply.

             
He scrunched up his face and chewed on the inside of his cheeks for a minute.  It made me question his human/zombie status. 

             
“Driving to Mexico, lots of time travelling, sudden downsizing, installing all of those cameras and alarm systems, taking you out of private school, people at school asking you about drugs, Brett mentioning your Dad having freebies.  It’s  not good, Corinne.”

             
“Jesus Abel, you’re just spouting shit out.  Make some sense.”  I didn’t know if I was unable or unwilling to put it all together.

             
“I just think you need to talk to your dad, honey.” He leaned over and put his face in between his hands.

             
“Fine.” I put the box back in its rightful place and got up to leave.

             
I stormed out, I needed to breathe, and it was too hot in there. I could feel the walls of the room closing in on me. I finagled with the doorknob of the front door until someone reached around me and unlocked it and opened the door for me.  I stood on the lawn, my breaths shallow and stiff.  Abel stood in front of me.

             
“Tell me what you need.”

             
“I need to walk home.  I need some time to myself.  I need to confront this on my own.”

             
He said, “Ok” but I had crushed him.  I stomped and stamped over the monkey grass outlining Sean’s yard and began to walk home.  It was several miles home and that’s what I needed.  Many miles to think. 

             
Eventually I saw Sean in his beat up GMC driving behind me, making sure I got home ok.  He was also on the phone.  I would bet my eyeballs that he was on the phone with Abel.  I walked through the doors and called my dad.  He said they were on their way home and would be back in thirty or so minutes. I sat on the couch and waited.  Then I puked.  Then I waited some more. 

             
They finally came in and my dad must’ve read something on my face because he sent my mom to her room.  She, of course, obeyed, and went to her bedroom.  He sat across from me and pretended to be his regular stern self.  I didn’t even know where to start.

             
“Since I started school, some kids have been hounding me about some things.  I ignored them for a while, told them to go to Hell or that they were insane.  But they were pretty damned persistent.  So persistent that Abel has a fat lip and a black eye.  I managed to only have bruised up wrists.” I held them out to show him.

             
“Make a point, Corinne,” he snapped.

             
“I want to know why people at school are asking me for drugs.  I want to know why they want me to get drugs from you.  I want to know why they assume that I’m some kind of drug dealer.  I want to know why they expect you to give me ‘freebies’.  Is that specific enough for you?”

             
He paled as the questions poured from my mouth.  He didn’t answer immediately so I continued.

             
“I also would like to know why we suddenly sold everything.  I want to know why years and years of tax records show that you made only a little under fifty thousand dollars a year.  Yet every year you paid a full year’s tuition in cash.”

             
“How did you find that out?” He asked.

             
“Does it matter Dad?”  He cracked his knuckles and I thought he would throw up defensive walls and tell me to piss off.

             
“Your mother doesn’t know any of this.  I bring her to her mother’s house when I travel.” He moved to the edge of the couch.  “For years, until you were about six, I made a good living.  I got cocky.  I invested everything we had in some bogus pharmaceutical company and lost everything.  I was desperate.”

             
“Make a point James.” I reciprocated his frustrated tone and used his first name to get under his skin.

             
“I don’t sell drugs, I don’t do drugs.  I simply pick up and deliver, Corinne.”

             
“Pick up and deliver what?” I said it through my teeth. 

             
“Whatever needs to be picked up and delivered.” He shrugged like it was all no big deal. 

             
“So you paid for my education with drug money.  We live off of drug money.” I reached up and kneaded the back of my neck, letting my brain compute everything. “So why the sudden scrimping and saving?  And if you only pick up and deliver then how do the people at school know?”

             
His shoulders slumped, defeated.  “First it was because my…bosses went into hiding, almost got caught.  Now it’s because the IRS is auditing us for the last ten years.  They take forty percent of my income in payments already.  They are investigating me for tax evasion.  And the people at school—your mother had a lapse in judgment.  She was spending a good deal of time with Mrs. Anderson and apparently let some things slip.  It was never my intention for you to have—I never wanted you involved.” 

             
I leaned back on the couch, hitting my head on the sharp edged back.  I can’t believe what an idiot I had been.  I hadn’t noticed anything.  Then again, I was always at school and busy during the summers.  And then something else hit me.  I had come down on Abel so hard when I found out that he was friends with Brett.  And I was the daughter of—of a drug mule.  Brett was right.  Here I was on my high horse telling other people how they should live, pointing out their mistakes, while I got a prep school education from the payroll of people who sold pot to kids. 

             
“What’s gonna happen Dad?” I switched back to Dad because suddenly I felt like a spoiled little rich kid.

             
“I hadn’t planned on telling you this for a while.  Your mother and I are going to court two weeks from Monday.  I…” Some emotion passed on his face but I couldn’t place it.

             
“Corinne, I have four hundred thousand dollars in an account with your name on it.  It’s all yours when you turn eighteen next month.  If something were to happen in two weeks, you are taken care of.  My lawyer has all of the information.” He must’ve seen the shock and disgust on my face because he quickly backtracked.  “It’s money that your grandfather left us when he died—you were only a baby.”

             
“This can’t be happening.” I said, more to myself than to the man in front of me. 

             
“I’m sorry Corinne.”

             
I looked at him—really looked at him.  A flicker of regret, shame, and pain passed over his face.  Then he fidgeted, as if uncomfortable. He got up and left without another word.  I ran to the backdoor and couldn’t get it open fast enough.  I shut it gently behind me, not wanting to alert them.  I made it past the wood of the deck and barely got myself bent over the ledge before I heaved.  I slumped down on the cool wood of the deck and let everything flood through me. 

             
I don’t know if I fell asleep or simply passed out. 

              Some amount of time later, warm arms picked me up and I was moved onto my bed.  Blankets were pulled up around me and I heard a voice say, “I love you Corinne.  I hope you can forgive me again.”  Darkness took me once more.

             
I woke the next morning and lay there endlessly.  I just needed to wallow in it for the day.  But I also needed to call Abel.  I knew that I hurt him but I was going to have to get through these next two weeks alone, and maybe some after that.  I didn’t want him to have to deal with my drama.  And if my parents went to jail?  Well, I would be finding a place to live after that.  And who wanted a girlfriend with more drama than a soap opera?

             
I called and as soon as I heard the tone of his phone ringing my stomach dropped.

             
“Hello?” he said.

             
“Hey, it’s me.” My voice croaked with the first sentence of the day.

             
“Corinne.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you okay?”

             
No, I’m not.  I’m hurting and angry and I need you.  I need to curl into your chest and breathe you in.  I want your warmth around me.  I want to cry on your shoulder until I’ve got nothing left.

             
“Yeah, I talked to my dad.  There’s so much drama.  He’s—he’s basically a drug mule.  He doesn’t sell it but he transports it.  And now the IRS is after them and they go to court in two weeks.  If they go to jail…”

             
“Hey,” he used his smooth, calm, like silk running over my back voice, “It’s ok.  You can live with Sean or I can ask my parents about living here.  Or the Stephenson’s, they love you…”

             
“Yeah.”

             
“Do you need me?  I know you said you needed some time alone but,” It sounded so desperate.  I nearly dropped the phone and drove to his house. 

             
I need you more than you’ll ever know.  I want you here.  I want you to hold my hand through this and keep me safe.  I need my best friend. 

             
“No, Abel.” I gasped as I said it.  I didn’t even believe myself. “I just need some space.  There’s going to be a lot of drama around here.  And maybe if we stay away from each other, Brett will leave you alone.  I just think…”

             
“Don’t do this Corinne.  Please, don’t do this.  I can help you.  I can just be there for you.”