Chapter 14
For the rest of the week, Gavin respects my wishes and leaves me alone, and in return, I take Gavin’s advice to just do what Mom and Dad tell me to do. So when they tell us to “stay out of trouble” while they have to attend meetings over the weekend, I don’t argue with them, I don’t bicker with Gavin, and I definitely steer clear of the liquor section at the convenience store.
Instead I prepare for my reentry into public life. I pluck my eyebrows. I whiten my teeth. I do all the masks, not just for my face, but also for my hair, feet, and hands. Aside from my efforts, the one thing that’s been sustaining me through the week is the breakfasts Mom has been leaving out for me. Who knew she could be so creative with such limited resources? Chive pancakes with crème fraîche whipped topping, a breakfast hash substituting wild mushrooms for corned beef, and “toast” made with a rice patty that was pan-fried until it was crispy, accompanied with a variety of jams. They remind me of the meals I’m used to eating and, with any luck, meals I’ll be back to eating in no time. My friends already think I’ve been on a silent retreat, and having spent a lot of time in unintentional silence, it’ll be closer to the truth than not.
We’re even making notable progress on the house, too, which means we can hopefully find new tenants soon. Over the weekendMom and Dad bought dishes and silverware from a place called the Bargain Bin in Bakersfield, along with bedding, bathroom mats, and a shower curtain. With the furniture Gavin and I assemble, the house is actually looking livable. I mean, not for me. But, like, for someone else.
On Monday, after Mom and Dad leave for the appeal, I start packing. Even though Dad said it could take up to two days before the judge reaches a decision, I might as well get ready so we can leave the second the appeal is over. I’m neatly wrapping the cords around my hair-drying system when the front door opens and slams shut. I assume it’s Gavin, so I ignore it. That is, until I hear someone who’s not Gavin speak.
“It’s time for a family meeting.” Mom’s voice startles me.
Family meeting?Two words I dread. But that’s not the only troubling thing. I check my watch. It’s not even noon. Mom and Dad weren’t expected to be home for hours.
When I meet them in the living room, they’re standing around the kitchen counter. Gavin follows in shortly after them.
“I saw the tractor pull in. What’s going on?” he asks, catching his breath. A film of sweat lines his brow from…running?Guess he wasn’t lying about that. But with Mom and Dad’s sullen expressions staring back at us, that’s the least of my concerns.
“There’s something we need to tell you,” Dad starts.
“And we’d rather you hear it from us than some journalist who is looking for a scandal,” Mom says.
My stomach twists into knots. The energy in the room is eerily similar to when Mr.Ahn told us in the warehouse that we had lost everything.
“The good news is, the appeal is over,” Dad says, barely smiling.
“And the bad news?” I don’t celebrate. Clearly there’s more.
Mom shifts uncomfortably. “It turns out, we don’t have a strong enough case to appeal to the IRS. We simply don’t have enough to cover all the losses from the decline in sales.”
“What does that mean?” I say. It doesn’t make sense. Every business ebbs and flows. Even I know that. “Isn’t there a savings or relief fund you can draw from?”
“Well, there were some losses we didn’t account for, and they’re more than we have,” Mom says gravely.
“So does that mean what I think it means?” Gavin carefully asks.
Dad reluctantly nods. “We have to file for bankruptcy.”
As Mom and Dad explain what happens next, it only gets worse. Our house and furniture were repossessed, along with everything else that held value. Vases, fine china, paintings, etc. They’re going to be sold in an auction where all the proceeds will go to paying off our debt.A public garage sale, for Christ’s sake. I’ll never be able to recover from the shame.
“The rest of our possessions were put into a storage unit until we know where we’ll end up.” Mom wrings her hands.
“What are we supposed to do now?” Gavin asks.
“All we can do is wait for a board to be appointed and for them to reorganize the company,” Dad explains. “I’m sure I’ll be offered an executive position, and my income will be enough to live on, but it won’t be the same as what it used to be. So we have to prepare ourselves for a different life than what we had before.”
The only thing that made it bearable to live here was knowing that we’d be going back to our old lives. And now we’re being told that’s not possible anymore? The air sucks out of the room. This is bad. So,sobad.
I’m not sad. I’m not even distraught. I’m mad, and I can only think of one person to blame.
“How did this happen?” I turn my attention to Dad, who has always maintained his innocence. “You said everything would be okay.”
“I was…mistaken,” he admits with difficulty.
“Mistaken?”That kind of response is an acceptable excuse when confusing salt for sugar or being caught out in the rain without an umbrella. But for driving a multinational, not to mentionmultibillion-dollar, business into bankruptcy? It’s not even close to comparable.
“Turning on each other is not helpful, Elena,” Mom says, coming to Dad’s defense. “The thing we need to focus on is how to move forward. Now, I’ve already talked to Brenthaven. In the event that things won’t be settled by the fall, your headmaster is making an exception so you can finish your senior year online and graduate on time. College applications are due next year, and we don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.”
There are so many things wrong with that statement that I don’t know where to start. As someone who has no interest in going to college, social interaction is the only part of school I care about. Now they’re going to take that away from me? And how can she be so calm when she’s telling me we might have to live here until the fall or beyond?
