Page 55 of Personal Foul

What are we going to do? What’s Mom going to do? How long would he even go to prison for?

I mean, Martha Stewart came out okay, but she was rich and famous and beloved by millions anyway.

While his company’s games are popular, my dad doesn’t have that kind of cultural cachet to bring him back into the public’s good graces. If there’s a publicized trial, will his name become more well known? But infamous instead of just regular famous?

I gulp, because if that happens, will people connect us?

Am I a shitty daughter if that thought makes my stomach sink more than my dad facing a potential trial and jail time?

No, I don’t think I’ll call my mom. She won’t have any help to offer me right now. And I’ll know as soon as she does.

I could call Hope. That’s probably the most appealing thought. If nothing else, she’d offer me more tea and sympathy.

Tapping her name, I stride to my car with renewed purpose. But when she picks up there’s steam whistle shrieks in the background. “Charity! Hey!” She sounds frazzled and out of breath. “How’d it go with financial aid?”

“Terrible.” I fill her in on the lack of help from that quarter.

She makes sympathetic noises, but before she can say anything, I hear her talking to Grace in the background, frustration giving an edge to her voice that’s usually absent when she’s dealing with her daughter. “Sorry, Charity,” she says when she’s able to. “Grace is having a rough day.”

That makes two of us.“Oh. I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Unless you have a magic wand to make my threenager cooperate, I don’t think so.” She chuckles at her attempt at a joke. “She refused a nap earlier, so now she’s overtired. I think I’m going to dump her in the bath. That usually helps calm her down when she’s like this, and then we’ll have an early bedtime.”

I pull the phone away from my ear to check the clock and see it’s almost dinnertime. I wandered around campus debating who to call for longer than I realized. “Right. Okay. Well, I’ll catch you next time, then. Do you still need me to watch Gracie tomorrow?”

“Of course! And I might be a little later than normal if that’s okay. There are a few extra errands I need to run.”

“Whatever you need works for me.” As though I’d tell her no. Especially since I know she’s probably padding her schedule so she has an excuse to give me more money.

“Also, Eric and I are planning a date night this weekend. Are you free to babysit Friday night?”

“Sure.”

“No hot dates of your own?”

“Nope. If you need me, I’m there.”

“I knew I could count on you, Charity. And tomorrow, we can talk more about Eric and me helping you out with next month’s rent, okay? I brought it up to him after you left last night, and we’ve been running some numbers to see what we can do. I promise we won’t leave you high and dry.”

“Thanks, Hope. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

Grace shrieks again, and Hope says a hasty goodbye.

Staring at my phone, then looking at my car, I can’t make myself get in and go home. I don’t want to be alone right now, and Isabelle isn’t done with class for today. And even if she were home, I’m not sure I really want to spend time with her.

So not only am I a shit daughter, I’m also a shit friend and a shit roommate. Go me.

But I can’t pretend I’m okay, and I can’t tell her the reasons I’m not okay. I want to be with someone who understands what’s been going on.

Which only leaves one person.

Swallowing what’s left of my pride, I decide to text Dylan. We’ve never spoken on the phone before. It would be weird to start now.

Me: I’m sorry I hurt your feelings earlier. You free?

I climb into my car while I wait for his response, hoping it comes quickly. But if I hurt his feelings enough, maybe he won’t want to talk to me …

Dylan: Ready to take up my offer to be my cleaning lady?

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