Page 34 of Room to Breathe

My dad had obviously known about this for weeks now, though. When he was having tense conversations with Mom and taking calls at dinner. How had he known? Because he had something to hide? And if he did, had he already prepared for this?

Did this have to do with those missing papers in the office? The ones he thought I’d lost? Did those incriminate him in some way?

Ice seemed to fill my veins. I pulled the blanket from my bed tighter around my shoulders and sat on one of the chairs. Neither of my parents sat. They just stood watching. Nobody talked to us, which I thought was weird. Maybe they’d talked to my dad when he first opened the door. It felt like we were outside forever.

Eventually people came out of the house carrying boxes, most likely from my dad’s office. A woman I recognized put the box she was carrying into a dark car that I also recognized. I hadn’t been paranoid after all. Apparently I should’ve been even more suspicious.

“We were invited to the Eubanks’ house for Thanksgiving dinner,” I said, not sure why my brain chose this moment to convey the message from two days ago. Maybe because I wished Beau was here right now. No, I didn’t, actually. I was glad nobody was here. That nobody was seeing this except maybe the Ring camera acrossthe street. Could their cameras see this far? And if they could, would our neighbors watch this on loop? Speculate. Share it with their friends. Post it on social media.

My mom looked at me. “Yes, she called me.”

“Are we going?” I asked.

“Maybe,” she said absentmindedly.

I pulled my feet onto the chair with me, hugging my knees to my chest. More people and boxes came out of the house.

My mom patted my shoulder. “This is a good thing. They’ll clear his name of any fraud and it will be over.”

I looked at my dad, who didn’t seem to agree with that sentiment. I hoped it was the first sentence he didn’t agree with and not the second.

“Fraud?” I asked. “Someone at your firm is committing fraud? Like against the government?” My dad’s firm specialized in workers’ comp and federal aid. If a lawyer falsified documents so they could make more money…that wouldn’t be good. My dad wouldn’t do that. Tears stung my eyes as I watched him pace the porch, tension tight across his shoulders. What if he had?

“Listen,” Mom said, looking at me. “This stays here, okay? We aren’t going to talk about this with friends or family. His entire business depends on people trusting him. And they can. He’s an honest person.” She said it like he wasn’t standing right there, like she was trying to convince me.

I nodded. Exactly. He was an honest person.

“You can keep this to yourself?Nobodyelse,” she said again.

“Yes,” I said.

An agent approached my dad. “Mr. Blair, we need you to come in for questioning.”

“Now?” Dad asked.

The agent gave a curt nod and my dad left with him. Panic clawed up my throat as I watched him climb into the back of a black car.

As they drove away, my face was on fire. “Why did they arrest him? I thought you said they were going to clear his name.”

“They didn’t arrest him,” Mom said.

“He had to get in the back of an FBI car,” I argued.

“Just for questioning. He’ll be back. Come on, let’s go inside.”

If it was just for questioning, why didn’t they let him take his own car? Get dressed? Come in later? Fear raged through my body. Was he going to come back at all?

Mom led me back into the house. Everything looked out of place—couches were crooked and cabinet doors were opened.

“You can go back to bed,” my mom said, closing the drawer of the entryway table.

She thought I could sleep after this? But I nodded anyway and slowly climbed up the stairs because her calmness was making me more scared, not less. The door to my room was ajar, and when I stepped inside I realized it hadn’t been spared in the ransacking. My dresser drawers were pulled out, clothes on the floor. My mattress was off-center. The hanging clothes in my closet were pushed to the side. My desk drawers were open, papers on the floor. My backpack was even unzipped.

I meticulously spent the next hour putting everything back into place. Numbness had taken over my fear. Maybe this was why my mom seemed so calm. She was numb.

Then I got dressed and walked. I ended up in front of Beau’s house. He lived about a mile away. I stared at it for a long time butdidn’t knock. I wouldn’t be able to talk to him about this. I told my mom I wouldn’t. And this wasn’t just some minor family issue. This was serious. My mom was right, this was my dad’s career on the line. His future earning potential. Our livelihood. I kept walking.

I ended up at the skate park a couple of miles from our neighborhood and sat on a bench, where I watched two lone skaters navigate the course.