“You heard plenty of stories last night.” Marin cautions herself to slow down, but there is no stopping.
David shifts uncomfortably, caught in the middle of the family drama Marin is creating. A voice whispers inside her head to stop, to let it be. A few more minutes will not hurt. But there is another voice—this one much louder—demanding that her authority not be questioned. Her control will not be compromised. They believe her weak but she is not. She never will be. “Raj, get up now. Gia, let’s go.”
She walks out, unable to face what she created. Her heels snap against the hospital floor as she rushes down the hall toward the elevators. Pushing the down button three times, she watches impatiently as the numbers slowly light up with the elevator’s descent. The steel doors finally open, revealing an empty car. Stepping in, she waits for them to shut. Only then does she lay her head against the mirrored wall, taking deep breaths. A caricature of herself stares back, watching her breakdown with dispassion.
“I am fine,” she whispers. Rubbing her hands over her face, she expects to wipe away tears. But her face is dry. There have not been tears since she was young. Straightening her spine, she pulls her hair back. As she gathers the loose tendrils, she puts her emotions in check. Within minutes she is back to how she feels safest. In complete control.
Smoothing the creases in her shirt, she catches her eye in the mirrored doors, and nods once to herself in approval. Pulling out her cell phone, she flips through the messages. Work started for her at five a.m. and usually ended after midnight. When she became pregnant with Gia, she worried how her career would be impacted. In hindsight there was no real need for concern. She worked right up to her labor. A driver chauffeured her straight to the hospital after a board meeting. Five days later, Marin was back at work.
She hands her valet ticket to the small man at the counter, waiting impatiently while he searches for her keys. “It’s those, right there,” Marin says, pointing to her set among the dozens. He checks her ticket stub against the tag on the key chain. To keep from snapping at him to hurry, she starts to dial her assistant when Raj and Gia come up behind her.
“Were you planning on waiting for us?” Raj asks.
“I told you I have work.” Marin takes in Gia and her demeanor relaxes. She runs her hand down her daughter’s hair. “You have a test on Monday, Beti. It is important you study, right?” She is about to pull Gia in for a hug when her phone buzzes. Glancing down to see the caller, Marin murmurs, “We have very little time before college applications.”
“Yes.” Gia steps closer to her father. He slips his arm around her shoulders. “I have to get into a good college.”
Marin stiffens at their easy affection, wishing she had the same camaraderie. “Not just a good college,” Marin says, texting her assistant to prepare a file. Marin repeats the list of their top choices from memory. “Harvard or Yale will open many doors for you. Brown, Princeton, Chicago, and Pennsylvania are also acceptable, but only if Harvard or Yale fall through.”
“Berkeley would be brilliant also,” Raj says. His arm still around her, he smiles down at their only child. “I don’t know if I can send my little girl across the country for school.”
“We don’t have to discuss this now,” Marin snaps, surprised at Raj’s words. The valet attendant has pulled their car up and waits with the door open. “Raj, please drive. I have to return a phone call.”