The People in the Park (5 page)

“Your car. I’m going to have to sell it. My legal defense is costing more than I anticipated with all the extra staff needed to build my case.”

I tried but couldn’t keep my eyes from watering.

“Selling your car is the quickest way I can get extra money right now,” Dad said. “I’ll make it up to you. As soon as I’m able, I’ll get you another one. You can pick it out this time.”

I mustered a half smile.

“In the meantime, you can continue to drive your mother’s car.”

I wanted to talk to Dad about Mom but not tonight. I was too heartbroken. I had lost my beloved car.

Dad kissed me goodnight. “You don’t have to worry about a thing,” he whispered.

Easy for him to say! My car had become my identity. Proof that I belonged at Fairfield Oaks High with all the other cool kids. My car spoke for me. It said that I was one of them.

I lay awake a long while thinking over what Dad had said. Uncle Peter and Mr. Ortiz had been a part of our lives for years. How could they get my dad mixed up in something like this? They were upstanding people of the community. They were well thought of among lawyers. How could it go all wrong? They were the cause of my life crashing around me. Even if Mr. Ortiz didn’t know what Uncle Peter had done, he was still responsible because he didn’t properly oversee what was happening in the firm.

In spite of myself, tears flowed freely when I thought of losing my car. My sixteenth birthday present was gone. How could I face my friends? All the cool kids had their own cars. Nobody had to drive a parent’s car to school.

6

I was up before dawn packing for our trip.

Much of the joy was gone. The story of my life. When something good happened, something else happened to put a damper on it.

The weatherman said it was twenty degrees cooler in Chicago than here, which necessitated a change in the clothes I packed. I took clothes out of my weekend bag and exchanged them for warmer ones three times before I was satisfied with my selection. In the past, on shopping trips, I had taken extra luggage or taken a bigger piece than I needed to allow for extra items I might purchase. Not knowing what to do this time or even if there would be any extra items other than the prom dress, I stopped worrying and repacking about an hour before our flight.

Mom and I met Aunt Ira and Tiffany at the downtown airport where private and corporate jets were based. Tiffany carried a blanket and pillow in addition to her luggage. She’d been up late all week studying and practicing for a big competition her debate team had yesterday in St. Louis. Her team had tied with the St. Joseph team for first place. Last night, they had partied late to celebrate the win. Now all she wanted to do was sleep until we arrived in Chicago.

She wasn’t used to flying on private jets so she didn’t know that everything was already provided. But that was all right with me. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts anyway. I needed to mourn the loss of my car.

Mom stored our bags in the closet, and then she and Aunt Ira went to the back of the plane so they could talk privately. Tiffany sat up front and put her chair in a reclining position and spread her blanket over her. She discovered that the seat provided enough support so she didn’t need her pillow. Me? I sat in the middle row.

The buttery leather seat hugged my body. Our family had taken private jets many times to weekend getaways for skiing or summer vacations to the islands. This was my world. As I sank further into the comfort of the seat, I realized that this trip might be our last one on a private plane.

How could Tiffany sleep? She had never been on a private jet. She should be enjoying every moment, but she was sleeping. I promised Mom and Dad I would try to get along with Tiffany and get to know her better. Somebody should’ve told her the same thing.

Oh well.

I didn’t feel like talking to her anyway. My car was gone. I would never see it again. How could I explain that I didn’t have a car anymore? My classmates would think we had lost all our money. They’d feel sorry for me. They’d think we were poor. I was beginning to feel poor.

I tried to recall some of the phrases I repeated in the park to get me through the day, but nothing came to mind. I wasn’t in a feel good mood anyway.

I could hear Mom and Aunt Ira talking about Dad’s situation. For lack of a better word, we called it the ‘situation.’ I pretended I was engrossed in reading a novel for my literature class, but I was really trying to keep my mind off my car. That wasn’t working, so I decided to see if I could hear what they were talking about.

This was the first time I heard Mom voice her fears that Dad might not be able to get out of his situation even though his lawyers were promising that he could.

“How are you dealing with all the media attention and the lawyers?” Aunt Ira asked.

“I feel like I’m slowly drowning,” Mom said. “Every day the water keeps getting higher and higher. Sometimes I feel like leaving home and never coming back.

“I’m getting where I can’t stand the sight of my own husband. The only thing keeping me sane is him saying he didn’t do it. He begs me to trust in him a little while longer.

“I tell you, if Lauren wasn’t still at home, I would be long gone. I can’t face my friends. I don’t know if I even have any friends left. Nobody called after the first day.

“I’m not even welcome at board meetings of the charities I’ve worked on through the years.”

Aunt Ira leaned forward to console Mom. “Calm down, girl. You are strong. You can get through this. Remember those verses from the Bible Grandpa Cole always said. ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct thy path.’

“You’ve got to stop fighting this on your own strength and start trusting God to get you and Roger through this trouble. Don’t let these false accusations break up your marriage. You and Roger are stronger than this. If he says he didn’t do it, you have to believe him.”

“I’m trying. The lawyers are going to meet with the receiver soon and present documentation that’s supposed to clear Roger.”

“That’s good news!”

“Theoretically. But I’m so afraid that even with that, Roger won’t get out of this mess.”

“Have faith in your husband. He’s a good man.”

Mom settled back in her chair.

I had no idea… Mom felt the same as me.

At least Mom had the luxury of staying home while I had to go out and face the world.

I still had to go to school, go to the park every day, and write for our school newspaper. I was the public face of our family. How I held up in public sent a message of how my family was doing.

I didn’t know if I could shoulder this burden much longer. Every day I was hit with something new. And every day I had to try to readjust my internal compass to center and go on with life. I was just going through the motions anyway, trying to live a normal life even though normal had left the building a long time ago.

We stayed in a boutique hotel off Michigan Avenue at the northern end of the Loop. We had a three-bedroom suite with three full bathrooms. Mom and Aunt Ira each had a bedroom while Tiffany and I shared a room with two beds. The view from our living room was spectacular, a thriving city spread in all directions, waiting to be explored.

Mom ordered salads and sandwiches from room service so we could get our bearings and enjoy our surroundings before going out into the city. I took a long leisurely bath and relaxed in the spa tub while jets of water soothed my soul. I was in heaven! Just having a chance to relax and blot out everything did wonders for me.

Afterwards, with my hair wrapped in a white towel, and wearing the soft fluffy robe provided by the hotel, I lay across my bed. Tiffany was reading a magazine.

“Aren’t you going to freshen up?” I asked.

“Later,” she said. “It doesn’t take me long to get ready. My hair is ready to go. Not like yours.”

Her hair was twisted in a cute short style. She was right. Her hair was natural and the style looked very good on her. I’d never thought about wearing my hair that way.

She saw me looking at her hair. “You should wear your hair like this instead of putting on a relaxer to straighten it. Show pride in who you are.”

“I’m proud of who I am!”

“I bet all your friends have straight hair.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Just that you want to look like your friends. All my friends have natural hairstyles. Some have braids. Others wear short curly Afros. I have twists. And one friend has locks. Be an individual, not a cookie cutter copy of somebody else.”

“Just because I wear my hair straight doesn’t mean I’m not proud of who I am.” I was miffed.

“I’m just saying…” Her voice trailed off.

“Saying what?”

She put the magazine away. “Never mind.”

“No, tell me what you have to say.”

Tiffany gathered her toiletry bag and headed towards the shower. She stopped at the entrance to the bathroom. “I’ve decided that regardless of what situation I’m in, I’m going to do me.” She closed the door.

I heard water running.

What did she mean? I am doing me! I’m doing the best I can. I’m being myself. What was she trying to imply? I am not her, and she is not me. We are individuals. Because I wear my hair straight doesn’t mean I’m being less of me.

“I should’ve let Mom cancel this trip. Tiffany doesn’t appreciate the finer things in life.”

7

We dressed for the theater.

A touring Broadway musical was in town. The characters exuded energy and vitality, which carried all of us away into their world. Mesmerizing adequately described the show.

Afterward, we had a late dinner at a trendy restaurant. We ordered grilled salmon, barbecued pork tenderloin, striped bass, sautéed halibut, and prime rib. We shared all the dishes and talked about the show in great detail. We laughed and laughed and teased each other mercilessly. My little tiff with Tiffany seemed to be forgotten.

I was presented with a new perspective of Tiffany and Aunt Ira. Their relationship was just like Mom’s and mine. We were so much alike. I had judged Tiffany wrongly, I admit.

Thinking back, we had spent lots of time together as toddlers and children. Then when I started middle school, things had changed for Dad. He had gotten a great job, and we had moved to Fairfield, a town with sprawling homes on the outskirts of Kansas City.

The Missouri River snaked along the edge of town. The park where I walked provided scenic views of the river along the walking and running trails.
River Landing
, with baseball and soccer fields, a toddler play area, swings, a gazebo, covered picnic pavilions, and a stage for musical acts, was the center of activity for the residents of Fairfield. Several festivals were held in the park every year.

Fairfield was the place to live for people who had made it to the highest rungs of society. Mom and I got involved with the people in Fairfield and our paths didn’t cross with Tiffany’s and Aunt Ira’s that much. Even though we lived less than thirty miles apart, we only saw each other about once a year.

I began to realize what I had been missing.

The rest of the weekend was a whirlwind of shopping along Michigan Avenue. We found our prom dresses in a boutique in Water Tower Place. The exciting part was trying on all the dresses. Customers in each store thought Tiffany and I were twins and that we wore different hairstyles to distinguish ourselves. I hadn’t realized we looked like sisters until we were standing side by side looking in the floor length mirrors at ourselves in our dresses.

Finding the gowns didn’t end our shopping. We had lunch in Nordstrom’s, and Aunt Ira treated us to a wardrobe of sweaters from Bloomingdale’s. I caressed the cashmere close to my skin. I was surprised and grateful for this precious gift from Aunt Ira.

It never occurred to me that she would do something like this. Tears came to my eyes when I thanked her. She just smiled, hugged me, and said, “You are my daughter, too.”

Aunt Ira thought of me as her daughter. I guess that’s the way Mom feels about Tiffany, which is probably why she offered to buy her a designer prom dress.

Sunday morning was spent at the spa.

We had aromatherapy massages with essential oils extracted from herbs that were designed for better blood circulation and stress reduction. I certainly needed stress reduction. I felt the stress leaving my body with each caress of muscle and tissue. Tiffany and I also had a facial specifically designed for teens that addressed acne issues. The technician instructed us on how to properly care for our skin.

Our spa adventure ended with a Vichy Shower. While we lay on a treatment table a shower of jets streamed water over our bodies.

As we flew through the night sky, I felt relaxed and rejuvenated. I refused to think about what might lie ahead for our family. Instead, I focused on my weekend in Chicago. Mom and Aunt Ira seemed to never stop talking. Neither did Tiffany and I. We had more in common than I realized. We talked about our boyfriends and our happiness and sadness about next year, our senior year. She told me about her car. I didn’t even know she had one. I was envious since I didn’t have one of my own. Talk of her car put a damper on my mood. She constantly reminded me of things that were missing from my life.

Then we talked about going to college and what careers we might have one day, but my heart wasn’t in it. The only reason I had a moment for my thoughts was because Tiffany had taken a bathroom break. Being around Tiffany was what having a sister must be like. We liked each other but still found fault with each other.

Family!

I have a different view of extended family now. Tiffany told me that she still goes to visit Grand Meré and Granddad by herself for a week every year. I stopped doing that when we moved to Fairfield. I was so busy with my friends and vacations with Mom and Dad and summer camps I didn’t have time for anybody else. Tiffany was no less busy, yet she found time to keep the connection with our grandparents. To me they were just voices on the end of the telephone.