On an early Friday morning, at the beginning of August, I suddenly woke up.
There was no crazy dream with me plummeting to my death and waking up seconds before I landed. I was wide awake and alert for no good reason.
I looked at the time. 5:32 a.m.
Lana’s apartment was quiet. I shot out of bed and jerked open the blinds. It was the start of a new day. The sky was painted pale gray as the sun was getting ready to rise. Most of the city was still asleep. The streets were cloaked in fog.
I crossed my arms and leaned against the window. Everything was so peaceful and quiet, but my gut told me something was wrong. This felt like the calm before the storm.
That instantly brought me to Lana’s dad. Weeks had passed since the altercation between Max and him. Max and I had waited for her dad to retaliate. To call. Harass. Press charges. Or even to go so far as to have someone do his dirty work.
But nothing happened. Not a damn thing.
In a few weeks I would go back to school. My parents would be home within a few days. My old, normal life was waiting for me. Yet, it seemed impossible that I could ever slip back into that life. How could I, knowing what I knew?
No retaliation from Lana’s dad should’ve made me feel at ease. But it didn’t. I was incredibly anxious. He had the upper hand right now. I knew it. He knew it. He was waiting for that perfect moment to strike back.
Lana knew what had happened. It was too big of a scene not to tell her. She reacted just like I expected. Withdrew from me and Max. Blamed herself for what happened, holed herself away in her apartment. It took a few days for her to return to normal. Whenever I saw her I would look at her searchingly, trying to see if there was any clue to show she had talked to her dad. She would stare right back and shake her head.
That gut feeling refused to leave and the longer I stood there, watching the sun slowly rise over the city, the more anxious and scared I became.
I closed the curtains and left the bedroom. I made my way over to the fridge, searching for something to eat. I tried to tell myself that I was overreacting and that this feeling stemmed from my paranoia. My fingers drummed against the edge of the fridge when I heard the thump of the newspaper hitting the front door. My back became erect. I slowly turned.
I couldn’t say that I watched the news, let alone read the newspaper. The most I ever did was scan the front page before walking away, going about my business. But right now, the clock ticked, and the fridge hummed and I stayed still, my gaze directed at the door. I walked over and opened the door. The newspaper was rolled up and held together with a green rubber band.
I didn’t reach for the paper. I just stared down at the small piece of the front page. What I saw was a profile of a face: one eye, sharp line of a nose, and lips pulled into a thin line. My heart slowed and my entire body felt numb.
“Oh, God,” I whispered.
Everything became hazy as I picked up the paper and walked into the living room. I read the words over and over, but nothing would stick in my brain. Just the phrases:
arrested
and
insider trading
. Blood rushed through my ears. It became hard to stand.
With the paper in hand, I walked to Lana’s bedroom. I knocked a few times. No one opened the door. I grew impatient and walked in. Her bed was made. The lights were turned off and there was no Lana.
I stood there completely stunned before I ran out of the room, changed my shirt, snatched up my keys and left the apartment.
I called Max. All my calls went straight to voicemail.
In a desperate attempt to prove the newspaper wrong, I drove to his house. I didn’t even bother pulling into his driveway. I just pressed the brakes and peered through the passenger side window. There were cars parked that I’d never seen there. Maybe his parents?
There was no point stopping by if he wasn’t there, and I knew he wasn’t.
I drove to Lana’s parents’ house next.
If Lana knew what’d happened to Max, and I think she did, then she would be here. She would retreat back into her parents’ hold. Partially out of fear and to be reassured that everything could be smoothed over if she came back.
I sat in my car, parked in their driveway. The newspaper sat in the passenger seat, like an ominous being, waiting to attack. The sun had risen, but clouds had moved in, creating a gray veil over McLean.
The longer I sat here, doing nothing, the more time was wasted. What was I waiting for? I snatched up the newspaper and scanned the front page.
The short version?
Max was accused of insider trading for six of his clients. None of those clients’ names were listed. The article didn’t say the proof they had or the person behind the accusations. But at the very end it said that anyone accused of insider trading could face up to 20 years behind bars and a ridiculous amount of fines.
This entire story was cloaked in mystery. None of it was true. I knew that. I knew that Max was smart enough not to go down the road of insider trading, but not everyone else would. Even if the charges were dropped, it didn’t matter because it would blow up into this huge scandal that would ruin Max and his family’s company.
Lana’s dad had a hand behind this. I was positive.
With the paper in my hands, I got out of my car. I had no idea what the hell I was going to do. I just knew I had to something.
I barely thought twice about barging into Lana’s family’s house. There were voices coming from the kitchen and upstairs. They soundproofed my entrance well enough that Lana and her mom didn’t look up when I walked in. They were in the formal living room. Lana was sitting on the couch and her mom was sitting across from her in the Louis XV armchair. Her mom’s back was straight; her feet leaned to the right with one tucked behind the other. Lana had her hands on her lap. Her right knee wouldn’t stop bobbing.
I slid into the dining room, opposite of the formal living room.
Neither one said a word. Her mom reached for her coffee on the polished table in front of her. She held the saucer and stirred the spoon slowly, staring down at the liquid. Lana watched her with a nervous look in her eyes.
“Stop moving,” her mom lashed out.
Lana stilled.
Her mom took a sip of her coffee before she placed it back on the table. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. Her fingers curled around the edges of the arm of the chair. She looked regal and proud, like a queen sitting on her throne, knowing that no one would speak or move until she moved first.
Her mom cleared her throat and looked at her only child. “You know your dad didn’t want to have to do this.”
“But he did.”
Her mom’s eyes narrowed as she leaned close. “And do you know why? You fabricated a lie. The only reason this boy is in the position he’s in right now is because of you. No one else but you.”
“I didn’t fabricate anything!”
Her mom laughed mockingly. “Of course you didn’t.”
Lana ignored her mom’s words. “He was just trying to help me.”
“But you’re lying,” her mom said vehemently. “You’ve always imagined things that were never there.”
A wounded look crossed Lana’s face. Her leg started to bobble again. “You know Dad did it. I know you do.”
Her mom didn’t say a word. She just sat there, staring at Lana with an unreadable expression.
Lana stood up and walked around the coffee table. “I can never understand why you avoided what’s been going on. Or how you can sweep it all under the rug, trying to pretend that nothing is wrong. How could you ignore me when I needed you the most?”
“Enough!” Lana’s mom lashed out. She quickly stood. I could see her hands shaking with anger.
It would only take three steps for her mom to walk forward and embrace her. But Lana’s mom treated the space between them as if it were miles. As long as Lana lived, her mom would never be the one to take that step forward.
“Accept your life,” her mom said.
“What?”
Her mom lifted her chin. “Do not play the victim and sit here with that pitiful look on your face, hoping that someone will feel sorry for you. You have to accept this life you have.”
“What kind of life is this?” Lana whispered.
Her words were pointless. She was just talking to her mom’s back. Lana stood in the room alone. Her mom entered the foyer, humming a pretty tune. A maid walked up to her with a bouquet of flowers in her hands. Lana’s mom smiled brilliantly, and bent her face to smell them.
“They are beautiful,” she said approvingly. “Just beautiful.”
With a pat on the maid’s shoulder, she continued to walk down the hall, her heels echoing loudly.
I turned back to Lana. She stared in my direction for a moment. It took her awhile to notice I was staring back at her.
She blinked furiously before she hurried across the foyer.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
I pulled out the paper and held it in between us. She didn’t grab for it. Just stared at Max’s face with blank eyes.
“You know already, don’t you?”
She looked down the hall for a second before she nudged her head at the front door. “Outside?”
I nodded and followed behind her. The door shut with a firm click. Instead of diving right into the conversation, Lana sighed and sat on the top step, staring at the long, winding driveway with a contemplative expression.
“I found out last night,” Lana said. “You were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you. You needed a break from everything. I came back home to find out what was going on.”
“Why… why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Because you need a break from everything. Look at what this has done to your life. Your entire summer went to shit.”
“You think that’s your fault?”
“I know it is. Just like you think it’s your job to be there for me. It’s my job to protect you from my life.”
“That’s not true!”
“Everything is ruined,” she whispered brokenly.
It was like she couldn’t even hear me.
A chill went down my spine.
“No, it’s not. The charges will be dropped and everything will smooth itself back out.”
“Can you stop?” Lana exploded. I pulled away. She laughed sadly and stared down at the grass. “You heard my mom back there. None of this would’ve happened to Max if I hadn’t been involved!”
“Your mom is also the same person that chooses to believe her husband over her daughter. Don’t listen to her. She has no idea what she’s talking about.”
Lana hugged her knees close to her chest. There was a defeated look in her eye. It was the same one she had the night I found her in the barn.
“You’re not moving back home, are you?” I said with alarm.
She didn’t say a word. I had my answer.
“You’re not going to do that.” I grabbed onto her arm, my grip tight. “You’re going to go back to your apartment. You know why?”
She looked over at me; her eyes were glassy.
“Because you’ve made so much progress.” I smiled encouragingly. “Come on, Lana. You have your own apartment. Your very own that allows you to come and go as you please! You’re creating a life built around your own choices. Last year, would you have been able to do that?”
“No,” she whispered.
“You think you have to move back because everything feels so hopeless right now, and you don’t think you can be on your own, but you
can
.”
I stood up and held out my hand. “What do you say? Are you ready to go back home?”
“Yeah.” She took my hand. “I’ll do it.”
“What will happen to Max?” she asked me as we got inside the car.
I stared at the steering wheel. “He’ll get out on bail. The charges will be dropped and everything will be okay again. I promise.”
Lana looked at me doubtfully. And could I blame her? I didn’t believe myself.
“We can stop there for today.”
I look at Dr. Rutledge. My pulse hammers against my skin. My voice is starting to shake as I further explain my story.
Instead of asking me questions, Dr. Rutledge doesn’t say a thing. She sits back in her chair, her pen tapping against her notebook.
She sits up straight and laces her fingers together. “You know what I think?”