Lost Along the Way(5)
“It’s gone,” he said flatly. Sweat was running down the side of his face despite the fact that it was the dead of winter and Jane had turned down the heat a bit before she left, to prevent her tree from drying out too quickly.
“What are you talking about? What’s gone? Did you lose something?” she asked.
“Our money. It’s all gone.”
Jane stood frozen as he continued to pace back and forth in the same straight line, like he was following the pattern in the carpet. “What are you talking about?” she asked. “You’re not making any sense.”
“I’ve done some things, Jane, and I don’t have time to explain them all to you. I don’t think I’m going to be able to get out of this.”
“What do you mean it’s gone? How could it be gone? I saw our bank statement last month and there was plenty of money in our accounts. Doug, sit down and tell me what the hell is going on.”
“The feds are going to be here soon, and when they’re done with me, the new boobs I gave you for your birthday will be the only things we have left. I’m not entirely sure they won’t try to repossess them, too. They’re going to take everything.”
Jane instinctively grabbed her chest. The implants had not been a present she’d wanted, but somehow she’d let Doug talk her into getting them, probably because they came with a trip to the Bahamas and a ton of new swimwear. Fine, it wasn’t a traditional birthday present, but most of the women she socialized with had their boobs done, so she didn’t feel like she needed to be ashamed of them.
“Are you understanding what I’m telling you? Jane, it was a scam. All of it. I’m a fraud.”
Jane’s mind refused to absorb what Doug was saying because it was too busy soaking up her surroundings: Christmas cards embossed with gold foil awaiting their angel-wing stamps, tree branches bending under the weight of glittering ornaments and champagne-colored lights, Tiffany lamps artfully displayed on antique tables next to crystal candy dishes and sterling silver frames. She tried to memorize all of it, every relic of her privileged life, knowing that while they were sitting tangibly in front of her they were simultaneously disappearing into the mist.
“Call Gavin and ask him to loan you some money. I don’t know how much longer you’ll have access to anything,” Doug said softly. “You’ll need it.”
“You want me to ask my little brother for money? Are you insane?” Gavin worked for an Internet company out in Silicon Valley and did very well for himself. Borrowing money from him wasn’t the issue. The issue was that Doug had somehow managed to destroy himself, and apparently her because she’d blindly gone along for the ride.
“I’m sorry, Jane. I’m so sorry.” With that, he sank down on the floor and began to cry. Jane didn’t go to him. She didn’t offer comfort or sympathy or empathy. The loyal-wife part of her thought about it briefly, but the fantastically angry part of her told her to stay where she was. If what he was saying was true, he didn’t deserve to be comforted by her or anyone else. If what he was saying was true, her entire life was a lie. The air felt like it was slowly being sucked from the room. Her lungs began to burn and threatened to explode.
“Start at the beginning,” she whispered. “What have you done to us?”
He refused to look at her.
Before he had a chance to explain anything, the FBI knocked on the door. In less than sixty seconds, Doug was cuffed and escorted out of the apartment, leaving her alone in her living room longing for the now distant time when her biggest problems were unpolished silver and crab cakes.
three
October 2013
Stop calling me! I told you for the last time, I have no comment!” Jane yelled into the phone before she slammed it on her marble kitchen counter so hard the screen splintered and cracked. It doesn’t matter, she thought, staring at her damaged iPhone. It’s not like I need to talk to anyone. She had stopped speaking to people months ago—or maybe more accurately, people had stopped speaking to her. It was crazy to think about how fast the people she’d thought were her friends had deserted her when Doug’s crimes became public. But if she was honest with herself (something she hadn’t been in a very long time), she probably would’ve done the same thing. Loyalty wasn’t really something they cared about. Hell, half of them had husbands who were blatantly cheating on them, and they couldn’t have cared less as long as their credit cards worked. She’d never heard from Mindy, Heather, or Christie with an i-e about the benefit, and none of them had returned her phone calls when she left messages. She hated herself for hoping that they’d still want to associate with her—that they wouldn’t hold her accountable for her husband’s sins. It was a completely ridiculous thought. They didn’t care whether Jane was innocent or guilty. They’d disowned Gretchen because she couldn’t spell.
Jane had dreamed of traveling in the higher circles of New York society her whole life, and once she’d gotten there, she’d learned that she was basically on her own. Just because people invited her and Doug to dinner didn’t mean they were her friends. Then again, just because Doug was her husband didn’t mean he was her friend, either. Maybe she should stop being angry at the pod people she had chosen to surround herself with over the last few years and start being mad at the people who deserved it: Cara and Meg, for not being with her when she needed them most.