Chapter Twenty-Eight

 

At two-thirty in the afternoon, Shaye Sylvester performed a dismount from the uneven bars then grabbed her cell phone from her gym bag and jogged toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Galya called after her.

“Simone’s been busy at work, and by the time she gets home, I’m in bed. I want to catch her before she leaves for work.”

“Tell her I said hello,” he said with a wave.

There was no signal inside the gym walls, and once outside, she squinted against the blinding sun. From the road, she could see the sleek modern lighthouse guiding the way to shore and the Ibis Hotel towering above the other buildings. Shaye was beginning to love this town. Being from New York City, she was used to the skyscrapers and busy streets, but the view of the East River wasn’t exactly as majestic and refreshing as gazing over the Black Sea, and days this hot in the Big Apple were stinking and miserable. Here in Constanţa, there was always a breeze, brightening the blue and white colors, shimmering against the modern glass infrastructure and softening the historical buildings. Shaye enjoyed the freshness and vivacity of the new location. To her, Manhattan had become a grind, and now she found herself looking forward to her morning run along the sea, to watching the tide ebb toward the horizon.

Being away from America, she could feel her gymnastics skills improving. Part of that was training with Trixie, who was one of the top three gymnasts in the world, but she hadn’t known she needed to shake up her routine until she did just that. She felt stronger and more positive than ever and was excited to tell her sister how extremely ready she was for the Olympics.

Simone picked up the phone after three rings, which must’ve been as soon as she heard it since she was so far away. “Hey, kid,” she said warmly. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” Shaye admitted. “I wish you could be here with me. You’d love it.”

“I’m sure I would. How’s training?”

“Awesome.” She spent the next ten minutes babbling about how solid she felt, how for the first time she really believed her Achilles tendon was strong enough for everything she was attempting.

“Have you done the release on the bars you were working on before you left? The double?”

“Not yet, but I’m getting closer. It’ll be ready by meet day.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

“Is everything okay?” She sounded happy for her but more reserved in her emotions than she usually was. Both sisters tended to emote dramatically.

“Sure.”

“Really?” Her persistence was met with silence, and she urged, “C’mon, Simone, what’s going on? I’ll find out eventually.”

“Don’t get mad.”

It was Shaye’s turn to be quiet.

“Dad got arrested.”

She tried not to overreact. “When?”

“A few days ago.”

“For what?”

“Identity theft.”

So much for not losing her cool. “Are you kidding me?”

Simone swallowed so profoundly she could hear it over the phone. “No, I’m not.”

“What did he do?”

“Hold on a second, I have Zarya here. She’ll explain.”

The phone shuffled hands, and her coach’s wife spoke into her ear. “Hello, darling.”

“Zarya, what happened?”

“We were doing an investigation into one of the gangs in upper Manhattan, and we came across a well organized identity theft scheme.”

“From a gang?”

“Yes, identity theft is many times more lucrative than selling drugs or guns and the penalty if caught is much less steep. And believe me, it is easy to get away with.”

“Unless you’re my stupid father.”

Zarya continued, “Our break in the case came quite by accident. A man dropped his wallet at a casino. Your father picked it up and found a couple thousand dollars in cash.”

“Did he take it?” That didn’t make sense. That was stealing, not identity theft.

“No. The man had a few credit cards, his driver’s license, a check made out to the mortgage company, and his social security card inside.”

“What a dumbass,” Shaye couldn’t help muttering. No one deserved to be robbed, especially by identity theft. It was more than simply snatching money or property; done correctly, it could seriously screw up a person’s life for decades. However, even at sixteen, she knew better than to carry that much personal information in her purse.

“Maybe,” Simone chimed in, having taken back the phone. “Dad copied all that information then returned the wallet to the customer service desk at the casino. Apparently the man was very grateful.”

“What did he do with the information?”

“Opened up a few credit card accounts. He didn’t take into consideration the high level of security in casinos. The man’s car insurance was renewed at a sky high rate because of a bad credit rating, he discovered the identity theft, and there was Dad on the video camera, returning the wallet. He was at the casino so often, a lot of employees recognized him. The rest is history.”

Shaye felt a cold slithering sensation in her chest, and she found herself suddenly short of breath. If she was harboring any hope she’d ever be able to forgive her father, it was crushed in that moment. People became addicts, it was a disease, and she always believed Simone’s explanation of how heartbroken Seth Sylvester was over his wife’s death, but the truth remained: you have to be a real dirtbag to steal someone’s identity.

“What did he do with the credit cards?”

“Took out the cash.”

“How much?”

“A little over fifty thousand dollars.”

Shaye gasped. She was thinking a few thousand, ten tops. To her, even ten thousand was an outrageous sum of cash. But fifty was more than most people, most families, brought home in a year. That was three and a half years of training, two and a half years of rent, countless meals, hundreds of plane tickets and entrance fees. It was a huge start on college education, a down payment on a house, life-changing, serious money.

And her father stole it.

Simone said, “Let me put this on speaker so Zarya can explain.”

“He was arrested, and that led us to his involvement with the gang. Many people have been arrested, they’re all claiming your father was the ringleader,” Zarya said. “I doubt that’s true because he stole this man’s identity so he could have some money on the side the gang did not know about. Personally, I do not think he is smart enough or has the computer savvy to actually be the man in charge, but he is going to take the fall for this. His sentence may be reduced if he can assist us in infiltrating other gangs doing this same thing, but that is for the future.”

“Enough,” she said angrily. “It’s enough. No more of that man in our lives.”

Simone said, “Shaye, I can’t just abandon him.”

“Why not? That’s basically what he did to us.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Stop defending him,” she shouted. “I’m so sick of it. He’s a thief, Simone. He’s a gambler and a criminal and he’ll ruin your life if you let him.”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But he’s still our father.”

“Who cares? Donating some sperm doesn’t entitle him to a lifetime of screwups for you to save him from.”

“That’s how you know him. I know him differently.”

“You keep saying that!” Shaye screamed, frustrated and furious. “But you never tell me what it means. You say he was different before Mom died, he changed after that, but I don’t get it.”

“You don’t want to hear this story,” her sister said resolutely.

Shaye forced herself not to scream like a banshee. She said with an eerie calm, “I get that you’re only trying to protect me, but I need to know. I need to understand. Because otherwise, I’m just losing so much respect for you.”

“I’d rather not tell you over the phone.”

“It beats not telling me at all.”

“Look, before I say anything, I want you to know I couldn’t love you more if you were my own child. When it comes to you and me, my only regrets are the times I lost my temper and said hateful things.”

“Seriously, it can’t be that bad.” She sat down on a concrete bench in front of the gym. “I’m ready.”

“When Mom first went into the hospital, you acted like any normal two-year-old would. You cried a little at night, but you saw Mom during the day at the hospital. You didn’t really understand why she was sleeping, but you cuddled with her, watched television, brushed her hair. You accepted she was sick and believed she would come home when she wasn’t so tired anymore.”

“Why would I think that?” Shaye wondered.

“Because it’s what Dad and I told you,” Simone explained. “You were too young to understand the truth. It was February, I was a freshman in high school, and so I could only see her for about a half-hour after school before I had to come home. Before Dad put you to bed, I’d sit with you in your room, play with dolls, or read you a story, and you’d tell me about your day with Mom. Then, like I said, you’d sniffle and whine a little about Mommy not being able to tuck you in, but by that point you were so tired you fell asleep. Mom was in the hospital for a month before she died.”

This was the first time anyone explained the intimate details of what her day to day life was like when her mother was dying. Shaye had a single memory from that period, but it was at her mother’s funeral. She remembered their neighbor, a boy who was about ten-years-old but whose name she couldn’t recall, holding her in his lap as she drank from a sippy cup filled with apple juice. She was staring across the parlor of the funeral home to where her sister and father were locked in an embrace, both of them weeping.

It was the first and last time she had ever seen Simone cry.

Until this very moment, hearing her sister tell this story, Shaye assumed she herself had never cried much, either. The last time she had in earnest was when she was thirteen and decided to quit gymnastics. That bout of sadness was short-lived because she met Galya the next week, and thus her career was revived. Apparently, she was a bit of a crybaby as a child, though.

“When Mom died, I was a wreck,” Simone continued. “If I wasn’t sobbing, I was a zombie. The school said I could take as much time away as I needed, but being at school was so much easier than being at home.”

Shaye was almost afraid to ask, “Because of me?”

“Remember what I said. It wasn’t your fault. You had no way to understand what death meant.”

“What did I do?”

“After dinner and until you went to bed, you’d scream for Mom. You would wail and lay down on the floor and kick and scream and cry, and every time you said the word Mommy, it was like a knife in my gut. And you said it all the time. All. The. Time. We knew what the chances of recovery were going in, but I guess we’d told you everything was going to be fine, Mom was coming home so many times we started to believe it. It shouldn’t have been a shock when she died, but it was.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Like I said, not your fault. You were just a baby. But hearing you call for Mom, it was horrible. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t focus on anything other than my own pain. Through everything, if it weren’t for Dad, I honestly have no idea what would have happened to me.”

“What did he do?”

“He did what parents are supposed to do in that situation. He took care of me. Before Mom died, he wasn’t much for hugging or saying I love you. When she was gone, he started hugging me all the time, telling me how he felt, letting me cry on his shoulder. He’d bring you up to my school and take me out to lunch. We’d all go on little trips out of the city just to get away from all the memories. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but I wouldn’t have made it without him. You can’t imagine how impossible it was for him to hold it together at that time, but he did it. For me, for you, he did it. For four years, he was my sanity. Shaye, in that time, he taught me what it really means to be a parent. I know I talk about Mom a lot, and what I say about her is true, but what I learned about strength and courage and sacrifice, I learned from Dad.”

“I didn’t know.”

“How could you? I never told you. I didn’t want you to feel bad about something you couldn’t control. But you’re right, you’re old enough to understand the truth. I don’t expect you to forgive Dad and let bygones be bygones. I only hope you start to understand why it’s so hard for me to let go.”

“I’ve never met the person you’re describing, but I’ve always had you. I never realized there was a time in your life when he was all you had.”

She could practically feel her sister smiling. “Did I tell you how much I miss you? How proud I am?”

“Two more weeks.” She couldn’t wait to see her sister again and wished she could be in Romania with her. Shaye was tough and had an impressive ability to control her emotions, but she desperately wanted a hug from her big sister.

“Kid, listen, one of the things Dad bought with the money was a ticket to Oslo for the Olympics. That’s what allowed the press to make the connection between him and you. Shaye, they know.”

“What does that mean?”

“The Olympics are three weeks away. To them, you’re a story now. They’ve been calling nonstop. I haven’t told them you’re in Romania, but I suspect Olek and Daryna Tudoran will let them know by the end of the morning. They’re still cheesed that you got permission to skip training camp in Houston.”

Shaye bit her lip and looked up at the sky. “I’m sorry you’re there all alone. It must be awful.”

“It’s not so bad. They’re not interested in me, really. After work today, I’m going to Zarya’s to stay with her until we leave for Norway. I’m turning off my cell phone because the press is relentless, so if you need to find me, call work, Zarya’s house, or her cell phone number.”

“You sound tired.” Shaye wasn’t sure how to feel. She was furious with her father, but at the same time, she felt incredibly guilty about what her sister was going through. If it weren’t for her, no one would give a damn about a common criminal. Instead, she had to go through a fiasco of public embarrassment and private pain without the only family she had to support her.

“I’m really okay. I doubt the press will try to find you in Romania, but...”

“But what?”

“Oslo could be a mess.”

“I know I told you I could handle whatever press came because of whatever Dad did, but I don’t know about this. I mean, this is it. This is the only chance at an Olympic gold medal that I’m guaranteed. I hope I’m still competing in four years, but injuries can happen. Anything can happen. I want them to leave us alone.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not exactly up to us. Reporters aren’t allowed in the Olympic Village, so that will help. I’ll shield you however I can. So will Zarya and Abby and Galya and Trixie. You know that. It’ll all come out right in the end, you’ll see. Just concentrate on gymnastics. I’ll handle the rest.”

“Please, whatever you do, don’t bail Dad out of jail. We can’t afford it, and he doesn’t deserve it.”

“He hasn’t had a hearing yet, so I guess I’ll figure it out then.”

Shaye wanted to argue with her, but she knew there was no point. Over and over again, Simone proved she would bail her father out of whatever trouble he found himself in, and she had to assume jail would be no exception.

“Maybe this will all blow over by the time the Olympics roll around,” Simone said hopefully. “The attention span of America isn’t very long.”

“True.” Yeah, right, said the cynic inside her head. Leaving Olek and Daryna Tudoran and the Houston gym three years ago, her injuries, particularly the tear in her Achilles tendon, the staph infection, Ileana’s death, everything in her life seemed to be working against her Olympic dream. Why would this debacle be any different?

“You still with me, kid?”

“Yes,” she replied quietly.

“Whatever happens, however this plays out, everything will be okay. You know that, right?”

“If you say so.”

“Not if I say so. I know so. I know it doesn’t feel like it because I’m so far away, but I’m in your corner. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Shaye took a deep breath and felt calmer. She might not agree with the way Simone handled their father, but she was always there for her. Simone kept her safe, and if she said she would do that now, Shaye believed her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

When she hung up the phone, Shaye didn’t bother putting it away. Instead, she immediately called Abby Vicari.

“Hey, how are you?” she answered.

“Okay. How’s it going in Timişoara?”

“I’m actually in Deva now, but it’s going pretty well. How about you?”

“Are you busy right now?”

“No, I’m just waiting for someone. What’s up? You sound upset.”

“I sort of have a problem.” Without going into the details her sister told her about life after their mother died, she explained the awful truth about her father’s arrest for identity theft. Abby was rich, worldly, and knew people. Maybe she could help. “What should I do? The victim will blab to the media, I mean, he has every right to, and the Olympics will be terrible because of it.”

“Maybe he won’t go to the press. Maybe he will, but no one will care,” Abby said.

“Maybe,” Shaye said miserably, not believing that possibility for a second.

“We’ll wait it out for a bit. If it does turn into something, we’ll set up an interview somewhere, I’m sure I can figure out how to do that, put out your side of the story, but I really don’t think we’ll have to.”

“When are you coming back?”

“Tonight or tomorrow morning. Try not to worry. Romania is probably the best place you can be right now.”

Shaye closed the phone and took a deep breath. She hoped Abby was right, and she was willing to believe it. Whatever happened, she was determined to win the all-around title at the Olympics. After that, nothing else would matter.