“Marin, it’s going to be fine. These things happen.”
“No, they don’t! Do you have any idea how bad this is? No top firm in Manhattan will hire me. I’m radioactive. I’m in Page Six, for God’s sake!”
“It will blow over,” she said. “Yesterday’s news.”
Her mother didn’t understand. How could she? She’d never made such colossally bad decisions. She’d never sent her own life into a tailspin.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Marin said. “Do you want coffee or anything? I can call for delivery.”
“Goodness, Marin. You don’t even make your own coffee in the morning?”
“I get it on the way to the office.” With that, she dissolved into tears.
“Marin, sweetheart, please don’t despair. Go shower and get dressed—you’ll feel better when you do.”
Marin sniffed into a tissue. “I really screwed up.”
“At the risk of sounding trite, things do happen for a reason. That could be the case now. Time will tell. For the moment, you can’t punish yourself like this. So get dressed, and I’m going to run to the grocery store, and we’ll have a nice dinner here tonight. And we’ll talk it through. Just as we always have everything else.”
Marin leaned into her mother’s hug. “Okay. Take my keys in case I’m in the shower when you get back.”
Blythe kissed her on the forehead on her way out the door.
Sorrow overcame her, and she choked back more sobs. God, she felt like a child. Her mother was right; she had to pull it together. She had to start facing things like she always had, like her father did: head-on, with resolve. She would fix this.
Her phone rang, and she wiped tears from her eyes so she could find the phone on the couch. The incoming number made her breath catch in her throat, and her instinct was to ignore the call, to send it to voice-mail purgatory and then erase it.
Instead, in the spirit of facing things head-on, she touched the screen.
“This is Marin.”
“Marin? It’s Rachel. Rachel Moscowitz.”
Marin stayed silent, and Rachel pressed on, her words coming in a rush. “I got your message and I’m literally in New York for just a few hours before I head to Cape Cod and I couldn’t pass through here and not try to see you. If you could just give me a few minutes, just for my own sense of…I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m looking for, honestly.”
Marin, already at rock bottom, wasn’t afraid to fall.
“Where are you right now?”
The Times Square Starbucks was jammed with tourists and the squatting homeless. Marin looked around and recognized Rachel Moscowitz from her quick Google search on the cab ride over. Marin was surprised by how pretty she was, with a long tumble of honey-blond hair and skin burnished by the California sun. She was dressed with the casual, inexpensive boho chic Marin could never pull off without looking like she’d just rolled out of bed.
Rachel stood leaning against the wall next to the mugs, CDs, and eco-friendly bottled water for sale. An oversize duffel bag rested at her feet.
Marin took a deep breath and approached her.
“Rachel?”
The woman turned, widened her big brown eyes. “Marin!” She pulled her into a hug. “Oh my God, I’m so happy to meet you!”
Marin nodded, unable to speak. Taken aback by those eyes, their almond shape mirrors of her own. Finally, she choked out, “We should find somewhere better to talk.”
“What? Oh, sure. I didn’t really know where to go. This is only my second time in New York. The last time I was here I was ten and we were visiting my mom’s friends. They took us to see Wicked.”
“Let’s get a cab,” Marin said.
They filled the five-minute ride with small talk about LA and New York. Really, they could have walked the short distance to the restaurant, but Marin wanted to sit. She needed a contained environment. She wanted the illusion of control.
Le Pain Quotidien at Fifty-Third and Fifth was Marin’s go-to place when she wanted to get out of the office for a few minutes. It was familiar and comfortable to her and she needed this to steady herself.
Marin chose a table on the second level, making a sharp right at the top of the stairs to get a spot on the balcony. She ordered coffee, and Rachel ordered green tea and a blueberry muffin.
“So,” Marin said.
“Thanks for meeting me,” said Rachel, toying with a packet of sugar. “I know this is pretty crazy.”
Marin nodded, looking into the eyes that were disconcertingly familiar. “I just can’t take these test results at face value. It’s nothing against you. But my parents have been together for over thirty years. I don’t see how this could be true.”
Rachel nodded, tapping her mug with her index finger. “I get it. It’s simpler for me because I always knew my father was a sperm donor. Maybe your mom had fertility issues and just never told your dad. Crazier things have happened.”
What?
“Or maybe Genie made a mistake with my results,” Marin said quickly. Though she had to glance away from Rachel as she said it.
“Sure,” Rachel said. “Look, I’m not here to, like, mess up your life. I just wanted to meet you. In case it’s true. I never had a sister, or a father. I’ve never had anyone but my mom and she’s…well, she’s not very motherly. So I guess I got a little overexcited when I learned about you. And about our—I mean, my—father.”
Rachel told her about her job in the research department of a television show and how her boss had cut through the red tape of the sperm bank to learn her father’s name.
Marin swallowed hard. “Did you contact him?”
“I wanted to contact him. More than anything. But it’s too late.”
Marin felt her emotional detachment peel away like a shedding skin. Her mouth was suddenly dry. “What do you mean, too late?”
“He died. A long time ago.”
Marin, in all of her jumbled and conflicted thoughts on this issue, had not considered that possibility. She nervously ripped at her packet of sugar.
“I’m…sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah. That’s the bad news. But good news is that his mother, my grandmother, is alive and well and living in Provincetown.”
“Did you reach out to her? Your grandmother?”
“Sure. I wasn’t discouraged by your rejection.” She smiled to show Marin she was just teasing. Ugh, why did she have to be cool? It made it harder than Marin had anticipated to blow her off. “And she actually sounded kind of psyched to hear from me. Invited me to stay for as long as I want. She runs a bed-and-breakfast. So that’s where I’m headed.”
Rachel pulled up a photograph on her phone of a three-story beach house with dusky gray shingles and wraparound terraces.
“Here’s a view from one of the bedrooms.” A backyard leading to a stretch of sand and a wide expanse of water. Marin could smell the salt air.
“You should come with me,” Rachel said. “There’s plenty of room.”