Chapter 6: Not So Brilliant Ideas

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Ignoring the complaints of Wedner behind him, Dean Grant had already arrived at a phone booth on Wood Street.

He needed to make a call to Frank, to inform him of the developments here, as his aunt had instructed him before he left.

He felt his pocket, then Dean took out the MCI phone card Frank had given him. Looking at the brown card face with the 20 US Dollar denomination, Dean couldn't help but smile slightly.

He had only seen such antiquities in his childhood, about the same size as a credit card, and the surface also lacked a brass-colored chip.

So how does one use this purely plastic telephone card? Dean skillfully flipped it over to find the code number on the back.

Picking up the handset of the public phone booth, Dean dialed the number according to the instructions on the card.

"Please enter your access code," came the mechanical voice from the handset.

Dean's gaze continued downward, finding the 6-digit random number beneath the scratched-off layer.

He entered the 6-digit access code as prompted, and soon a recording told him he could start dialing.

Just as he pressed the number to Frank's office, Dean suddenly paused.

Wait a minute! A phone card, a 6-digit random access code, a 20 US Dollar value...

Information about telecommunication principles flashed through his mind, that keenness unique to computer geeks sparked an unusual inspiration in him.

"Hello~ this is Eagle Moving Company." Frank's voice brought Dean out of his reverie.

Not bothering with the inspiration that arrived halfway, Dean roughly recounted his meeting with attorney Wedner.

Frank was also pleased; there was a turning point in Peter's case, and both sides agreed to discuss further after returning.

Before hanging up the call, that mechanical recording appeared again, this time to inform him that there was still a balance of 13 US Dollars on the card.

Exiting the public phone booth, Dean's hands turned over the MCI phone card, his thoughts elusive.

Why did he ensure he left Wedner's office right on time, if not because he was out of money?

Dean didn't know Wedner's specific fees, but he knew the consultation fee at Youngstown's cheapest law firm was 75 US Dollars per hour.

That's still for an assistant lawyer with less than five years of experience; for an experienced lawyer, it wouldn't be surprising if the fee was several times higher.

Dean had only about fifty-odd US Dollars on him, which was the remainder of last month's living expenses.

As for the money he brought out today, it was only a 10 US Dollar bill, and he worried about encountering a mugging that would further strain his already tight finances.

All this caution, simply because he was broke!

What was worse, even if everything went smoothly with Dad, the fines and court costs wouldn't be a penny less.

According to Wedner's earlier estimate, a fine of one thousand US Dollars plus a judgment sum of another thousand was necessary.

After release, Peter would also be ordered to attend a few months of alcohol treatment classes, a mandatory requirement he could not refuse unless he never wanted to get his driving license back.

So guess what? Do those alcohol treatment classes cost money?

Damn, it's all business!

Dean, cursing under his breath, felt powerless in the face of several thousand dollars.

This was simply not something a freshman could handle!

His aunt's family might be able to help a bit, but several thousand dollars? Dean was sure that such an amount, practically half of his aunt's family's half-year income in cash, was definitely not available to them.

At the root of all these troubles was, essentially, the fact that he was "broke."

However, now he had a choice to make, not a particularly honorable one, but it promised money.

Turning the phone card to the side with the 20 US Dollar text, Dean's thoughts began to clarify.

But to avoid unnecessary trouble, this matter required more careful planning.

...

In 1988, the federal government set the poverty line for a single-person household at 5,770 US Dollars, with an additional 1,960 US Dollars added for each additional person.

For a typical family of four, like Dean's and his aunt's, if their annual household income was below 11,650 US Dollars, they would be considered a poor family.

In other words, they were poor, the underprivileged, eligible to apply for various government benefits.

But clearly, neither Dean's nor his aunt's families were poor. The former had an annual household income close to twenty thousand US Dollars.

As for Dean's family, since Peter was a truck driver—a high earner within the blue-collar pool—their annual income exceeded thirty thousand US Dollars.

Without a doubt, both families were solidly middle-class as defined in the federal reports.

Being middle-class meant paying more taxes: not just the universal federal tax, but also state taxes, not a cent less.

Healthcare tax, Social Security tax, federal income tax, state income tax, property tax, sales tax—adding up all these, a middle-class family had to give away 30% to 40% of their annual income.

Yet that's not even the worst part. Paying taxes was one thing, but the middle class couldn't even enjoy the benefits that should come with it.

The taxes paid by the middle class mostly went as welfare subsidies to the poor and the underprivileged.

A stark fact was that Dean's mother, who had asthma before she passed away, could barely get reimbursed for her medical expenses when she visited the hospital—just because they were a middle-class family.

So even though Peter earned a substantial hourly wage of 18 US Dollars, the family's financial state wasn't necessarily good.

Especially when Peter was the only one earning in the family, their economic situation was not even as good as that of his aunt's family.

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Later, after Caitlin mother had an accident, and Peter was arrested, the Dean household was completely cut off from any sources of income.

But things were far from over. Today, after discussing the details of Peter's trial with his aunt, Rachel Aunt couldn't help but tell Dean another harsh truth.

"Dean, no matter when Peter is released, there is something you need to decide on as soon as possible."

"What is it, Aunt?" Dean suddenly had a bad feeling.

"The house," Rachel Aunt gave an answer that was unexpected for Dean, yet he felt it was reasonable.

"When Peter bought this house, he chose a fifteen-year fixed mortgage."

"So?" Dean calmed himself before motioning for his aunt to continue.

"That means a fixed expense of $820 every month, otherwise the house will be foreclosed. And Peter has said that he must save the house at all costs, it holds everything for him."

"F*CK!" Dean couldn't hold back any longer and let out a curse.

He originally thought that once the few thousand dollars were handled, he could get his life back on track.

But the reality is, you never know what's waiting for you ahead.

Old man Peter had already lost his job, and whether he could find another after getting out of prison remained uncertain.

Dean could simply wash his hands of this family, saying it was beyond his capacity, and he believed his aunt's family would understand him.

But deep down, he still hoped to keep the family together, whether it was beneficial for his future plans to transfer schools or it was some lingering obsession from his former life, it all imperceptibly influenced him to work towards this goal.

After all, he was half Irish, and the Irish, after the Italians, were the people who valued family the most.

But at the moment he was really a bit shaken, the process of the lower-middle class trying to escape the mire that bound them and move upward was too hard.

All sorts of charges, life pressures, mortgage pressures, academic pressures, like so many barriers standing in his way, preventing him from passing through that door.

Become a refined egoist who puts "personal interest first"? No, before losing his way on the path of capital, Dean hoped to keep a little light in his heart.

After all, he quite liked that house on Charlotte Street.

"Sorry, Aunt, where were we?" Dean rubbed his face and regained his composure.

"$820," Frank mercilessly reopened the wound.

Seeing Dean's face scrunch up again, he couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Frank~" Rachel Aunt gave him a reproachful glance.

"Haha, to be honest, I quite like it when this kid swears."

Ignoring the "unscrupulous" Frank, Dean looked at his own aunt.

"The monthly expense of $820 is obviously beyond your means, Dean. So we've discussed it with Peter and decided to rent the house out.

You'll mostly be at school anyway, coming back only occasionally, and you can stay here then. As for Peter, he'll take care of himself."

It had to be said that Rachel Aunt's suggestion brightened up Dean's spirits—it was indeed a solution.

Not only did it save the house, but it hardly cost him anything. The only price was being unable to return to the house until they could afford to pay it off.

However, Dean had one more question. Why did the matter of renting out the house need to be discussed with him? Couldn't his father just take care of it after his release?

Seeming to know what he was thinking, Rachel Aunt told him some not-so-good news.

"Peter's account is already out of money, so to avoid receiving a court summons from the bank, it's best to rent the house out this month, and the sooner, the better."

Okay, Dean understood.

But $820 a month, could they find a tenant willing to pay that much? As far as he knew, the housing prices in Youngstown had already plummeted.

And he wondered how his old man had the confidence to afford the exorbitantly high mortgage payments of $820 a month back ten years ago, in the late 70s.

Frank answered this question for him, during the first few years of the 80s, it was the period when the US mortgage interest rates were highest in history.

The Deans' house was in the well-policed white neighborhood in the southern part of the city on Charlotte Street. It was a prime location, and Youngstown hadn't declined yet.

So a selling price of $80,000 seemed worth it to Peter, especially since he had secured a truck driver position at Packard Electric Factory, which filled him with confidence.

A down payment of less than 20%, a 15-year term, and a 13% interest rate—Peter pestered the bank manager for a week to sign the contract and felt incredibly lucky for his decision.

Because a week later, that interest rate became 15%, and a month later, it broke the 20% threshold.

However, after 1983, everything went downhill rapidly. With a large number of factories closing, many white people left the area, and the market was flooded with houses for sale.

Had it not been for Peter's decent salary, perhaps he too would have cut his losses and fled in time.

But anyhow, the cost of holding out was now a monthly mortgage payment of $820.

Having clarified his thoughts, Dean nodded to indicate he understood. But then he suddenly thought, if his family lived in the south of the city, and his aunt's family did too, then...

Frank shrugged at Dean, who can escape fate?

Dean shrugged back at him in a comforting gesture and then turned to say an early goodbye to his aunt.

"Aunt Rachel, the phone bill might be a bit higher next month because I'll need to use the internet, but I'll cover the extra costs."

"As long as it's not for watching adult pay-per-view," Rachel said nonchalantly, raising her eyebrows.