“So what’s going on with him? Are you two dating?”
“Yes, more than that. We’re talking about moving in together.”
“What?” I gasp. My mouth drops open.
“I mean, I have no idea how that’s even possible but we both want to. I mean, he asked me to stay.”
She doesn’t say anything more, just smiles from ear to ear.
“And?” I prod her.
“I don’t know. If it weren’t for my job, then yes, I’d stay,” she says, shrugging.
I clear my throat to remind her of another obligation.
“You, of course, you!” Sydney laughs. “But you’re my best friend, nothing is ever going to change that.” She sends me an air kiss.
“You moving six thousand miles away across six time zones might put a damper on our evening Netflix marathons,” I say.
She nods, trying not to smile. But she can’t.
I laugh.
“I’m really happy for you, Syd,” I say.
I ask her to tell me more about James and she tells me about his job at the hospital and the pediatric clinic that he volunteers at in his spare time to help out the poor families on the island who can’t afford medical care.
“He just really loves his job,” Sydney says. “I haven’t met anyone like him before.”
“What about your job?” I ask.
She might not like the particular lab or the people who work there but she believes in what she does and I can’t imagine her giving it all up to live on an island in the middle of the Pacific.
On the other hand, recently, everyone (including me) has been doing things that are difficult to imagine.
I try to find a gap in the conversation in which I can bring up my particular predicament but when it doesn’t come, I just blurt it out.
“Sydney, I need your help.”
“What’s going on?” she asks, sitting back in her chair. The rain starts to fall behind her and I hear it splatter against the roof.
I don’t know where to start so I begin with the guy who shoved a gun in my face. I go into detail over my mother’s debt and save the request for last.
“I have five days to get Shephard fifty-thousand dollars. Otherwise they’re going to kill her.”
Sydney rubs her temple and stares vacantly into the screen.
“I’m telling you this,” I continue, “because I was wondering if you could lend me the money.”
30
When I wait…
Sydney looks at me. The distance that separates us no longer exists. It’s just her and me, talking, sitting curled up on the couch together.
“That’s a lot of money, Olive,” she says as a matter of fact. There isn’t a tinge of attitude in her statement.
“I know.” I nod. “I wouldn’t be asking if I had any other way. I tried to apply for a bigger credit limit but I can’t get anything more than another two grand. I don’t know what to do.”
I stare into her almond shaped greenish-black eyes.
Anyone else would ask why I’m doing this.
Anyone else would say that this is your mother’s problem and after everything that she has put you through you should just let her deal with it.
Well, I did.
And this is what it has come to.
I open my mouth and words just spill out.
I tell Sydney about my plan for her to drive away. Go out west. Live in a string of cheap motels under a new name.
This plan would’ve worked.
This plan was the one that I should have insisted on her taking.
I don’t know who picked her up, whether it was Shephard Sudler or some other man who works for Marlo.
What I am certain of is that they didn’t have to go far to find her. They probably found her at home or buying cigarettes at the corner store.
Since she doesn’t like to drive, those are the only two places she would’ve been.
Since she doesn’t like to drive, she didn’t want to go on the run.
She didn’t want to take a chance and help herself. That has been my mom’s modus operandi her whole life.
She never had a steady job, relying instead on my father and complaining when he’d spend the little money that he did bring in. After he left, she did work at a few places, mainly retail and as a housekeeper, but those positions never lasted long.
The day that I started college, I took the train to Wellesley alone. Putting my suitcases on the floor of my dorm, an overwhelming sigh of relief swept over me.
Tears started to roll down my face and my new roommate’s mom wrapped her manicured fingers around my shoulders and told me that homesickness was a very normal thing and that I could call her anytime I needed a mom to talk to.
She thought I was crying for the same reason everyone else was, but the truth was I was crying because I was finally away from her.
My mother’s lack of inertia is contagious.
Why do anything when nothing is ever going to work out?
Why take a risk?
Why even do the bare minimum when you could just wait and maybe someone else will do it for you?
When I was in elementary school, she would hit me for getting a C on a test. When I got to high school, she would mock me for studying too hard.
Most of the time, someone did show up to help her out of the messes that she’d made. At first, it was my dad. Then Patrick. Then Owen. And then me.
And now?
The one time that I actually walked away from her, everything became much worse.
If I had forced her into the car, if I had even driven her out of town myself, set her up in some studio apartment somewhere in Texas, then Shephard Sudler wouldn’t be handing me his card.
But because I walked away once, her death will be on my hands.
Sydney doesn’t ask why I’m asking her for this money because Sydney knows the guilt that I feel. Instead she says she’ll call me back after she sees how much money she has in her account.
The rain stopped, leaving beads of water on the outside of my window. One droplet begins to roll down in a zigzag, colliding with another one and building up steam. Now traveling with great mass they bulldoze their way down the glass consuming unsuspecting droplets along their path.
A few hours later, my phone rings. I take a deep breath as I press the Accept button.
“I don’t have enough,” Sydney says. “I only have seventeen thousand I can get on my credit cards as an advance and my mom refused to even entertain giving me a loan. I have another six that I saved up for my business but that’s it.”
With my three thousand that’s still twenty-four short. I can perhaps use this money to buy more time, but what’s that going to get me? Another few days is not going to make all of this money magically appear in my account.
“You know what you have to do,” Sydney says.
I nod. I don’t want to even think about it.
“I don’t even know if his offer still stands.” I shrug.
“You have to ask.”
I move my jaw around and bite the inside of my lip.
“What’s he like?” I ask. “You had lunch with him, right?”
“He’s actually really great. Fun. James is really close friends with him.”
I nod.
“Charming. Has lots of interesting stories to tell. Plus, he’s quite easy on the eyes.”
“I know that part,” I say, smiling out of the corner of my lips.
“This isn’t such a terrible option, Olive. I know that things didn’t go well between you two back there but why not give it a chance?”
“Wait a second.” Something occurs to me. “You’re not just saying that because you want me to come to Hawaii with you, are you?”
Sydney’s eyes light up.
“It could be fun. I mean, think about it. When was the last time we did anything reckless?” she asks. “We’ve both worked really hard to get into this super prestigious college and then majored in really hard subje
cts while everyone else seemed to just party. Then we started working right away…maybe we’re due for a break. Just some time off with some hot guys in the most beautiful place in the world?”
“You make it sound so…carefree.” I laugh.
“I’m just trying to put a positive spin on a pretty shitty situation,” she admits.
“I know.” I nod. “I appreciate it.”
“Are you going to do it?” Sydney asks after a long pause.
31
When I make the call…
Sydney gets Nicholas’ number from James and I jot down the digits on a piece of scrap paper. After we hang up, I stare it for a while, running my fingers on the rugged edges, trying to decide what to do.
It feels like I have a choice, but I really don’t.
He is the only one who is in the position to give me this money.
Can I do it?
Can I take him up on his offer?
Can I do it for her?
No matter how I would like to spin it in my own mind, no matter how much I would like to pretend, calling Nicholas would be doing it for her.
The stakes may be higher. I am not coming over and helping her with the laundry while listening to her criticize me.
I’m not just paying her share of the rent.
I am saving her life.
And as much as I want to be done with her, to kick her out of my life for good, I am not willing to let her die, especially if there’s something I can do to prevent it.
I dial Nicholas’ number slowly and add him to my contact list.
Then I press the big green button and wait.
“Nicholas Crawford,” he says, answering on the third ring.
I can’t believe he is actually one of those obnoxious people who answers a call by saying his name.
“Um…this is…Olive Kernes,” I say, keenly aware of just how many pauses I took to get this sentence out.
“How are you?” he asks without missing a beat. I’m surprised by how unsurprised he seems to hear from me.
I want to hang up immediately.
I look away at the screen and contemplate pushing the red button.
Hang up.
Hang up.
It’s not worth it.
“Olive?” I hear him on the other side. “Don’t hang up.”
“I don’t know why I’m calling.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Do you?” I ask.
“I may have an inkling of an idea.”
I put him on speaker phone and crack my knuckles.
“I enjoyed spending time with your friend Sydney.”
My body tenses up.
I can’t quite pinpoint it but he has some sort of effect on me.
His voice energizes every cell in my body and there’s nothing I can do to calm them back down.
“She said she had fun, too,” I say slowly.
“James is a really good friend of mine,” Nicholas adds.
I know what he’s doing.
He’s trying to put me at ease.
If Sydney likes him, if her boyfriend is close friends with him, that means I can trust him. That means nothing bad can happen.
But is that enough?
“Do you know what happened to my mother?” I ask.
I didn’t tell Sydney to keep this quiet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if James already knew and then told Nicholas.
“No, is she okay?” he asks, his voice is marked with concern.
I inhale deeply.
“She’s in a lot of trouble. She borrowed money from the wrong person and now she can’t pay any of it back.” I bite my lower lip and pause.
Nicholas waits for me to continue.
“They’re holding her hostage until I pay her debt,” I finally come right out with all of it. “They are going to kill her if I don’t come up with the fifty-thousand.”
“What’s your bank account number?” he asks without waiting for me to ask.
“Um…”
“Look it up,” he instructs.
I click on the banking app on my phone, sign in and read off the number.
A moment later, my phone beeps.
A notification appears.
He has deposited fifty-thousand dollars into my bank account.
Another notification: the money is already in the account.
Apparently, he wired it from such an account that the bank doesn’t need the normal three days to process it and make sure that there’s money there.
“Wait…I didn’t even…I’m…thank you,” I finally say. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
I don’t know what else to say. I wish that we were on video chat so that I could at least look at his face and thank him in person.
“Nicholas, are you still there?” I ask after a moment even though I can hear his quiet deep breaths on the other side of the phone.
“Yes,” he says.
He’s waiting for me to take the initiative.
But I am too taken aback by what he has just done to put together a coherent sentence.
“Thank you so much.” My words come out hesitantly, but I’m thankful they come out at all.
“You’re welcome,” he repeats himself.
“Why…why did you do that?”
“You needed help.”
“But what about…your offer?”
“That has nothing to do with this.”
My shoulders slope down.
I slouch in my seat.
My mind doesn’t understand what he means.
“You don’t want me to spend the year with you?” I ask.
“That’s not what I said,” he says. His voice is even and without much affection.
“What does that mean?” I ask. “I don’t understand.”
“I want you to spend the year with me. But that has nothing to do with this money. Your mother’s life is in danger. I can help her with a swipe of a few buttons. That’s what I did.”
“Thank you,” I say. “You’re so…generous.”
“Anyone in my position would do the exact same thing.”
“No.” I shake my head. “No, they wouldn’t. I just wish there was something I could do to repay you for your kindness.”
“If you insist, there is something you could do.”
I wait for him to explain.
“I’d like to have dinner with you tomorrow night. There’s a beautiful restaurant in downtown Maui that I think you’d adore.”
My heart skips a beat.
“Will you have dinner with me, Olive?”
32
When I hand over the money…
Now that I have the money, I am not entirely sure how to make the exchange. I glance over at the five envelopes of cash that I retrieved from the bank earlier today.
I can give Shephard Sudler the money, but how does that guarantee my mother’s safety?
I don’t know anything about him except that I can’t trust him. This is a lot of money and I need assurances that my mother will be released.
I message a few people on Facebook and then call the number that one of them gives me.
“Samantha?”
“Yes, how may I help you?” Her voice sounds peppy and upbeat as if she were a customer service representative at a five-star hotel.
She doesn’t have a trace of her old New England accent and each word comes out crisp as if she were a polished, wealthy woman. I guess that’s exactly what she is now.
“This is Olive Kernes, I need to speak with you.”
Sam and I meet at a Starbucks in Harvard Square. We hug, tell each other how wonderful we look, and then both order lattes.
Samantha has long caramel hair, a trim yoga body, and flawless skin. Dressed in leggings, boots, a figure-hugging jacket, she looks like a regular suburban mom stopping in for an afternoon pick me up. Little does anyone around here know that she is the most connected madam in the Northeast.
At least that’s what my resea
rch told me. Once my mother made her suggestion, I couldn’t resist finding out more about my old friend.
“It’s nice to see you again,” she says as we make small talk about our lives after high school. But when the conversation hits a lull, I don’t waste any more time.
“I know that you work for, or with, Marlo,” I say.
She doesn’t respond, giving me neither a confirmation nor a denial. There’s no point in being indirect. She won’t help unless I tell her the truth.
“My mother owes her a debt, which I’m going to pay on her behalf,” I start. “Someone who claims to work for Marlo wants me to pay him directly, but I don’t know if he actually works for Marlo. I need to get in contact with her directly.”
Sam sits back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest.
“What do you want from me?” she asks.
“Can you help me?” I ask.
“Maybe.”
She narrows her eyes and takes another sip of her latte. Then she gets up and walks away.
“Follow me,” she instructs, leading me to the bathroom.
After locking the door, she turns to me and says, “I am going to check if you’re wired.”
“I’m not,” I promise.
“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t just take your word for it.”
I don’t fight it. I’m not wired and I have no intentions of getting the police involved.
First, she goes through my bag, carefully emptying it of its contents and then examining every part of the lining. I don’t know anything about bugging devices but they must be quite small if she is so meticulous in her search.
After checking everything that she has dumped into the sink, she turns to me. She begins with my hair, asking me to first take off my scrunchie and then moves down my back and around my torso. She pats practically every part of me including in between my legs, and then asks me to remove my shoes. After checking my ankles, feet, and even the inside of my sneakers, she finally looks up with satisfaction.
“I’m not working with the police. I’m just trying to help my mom,” I insist.
“You can never be careful enough in my line of work.”
I nod, wishing that she hadn’t even mentioned that. The less I know about what it is that she does, the better.
Tell Me to Stop Page 11