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“Marina?” I asked.
“Kealy! How’s it going, sweetie?” she asked.
The sound of a kind and familiar voice just about brought me to my knees.
“Hi,” I said weakly.
“Is something going on? What’s wrong?”
I sighed into my cell phone and glanced around the rest room to make sure I was absolutely alone.
“Having some problems at work, Marina. I’m so upset.” I choked back a sob.
“Oh, my. Why don’t I come meet you at the diner for lunch? Noon good?”
* * *
Lunchtime could not have come fast enough, and in fact, it didn’t come fast enough—I bolted out of the office at eleven-thirty. If I had to sit in our favorite booth and suck down Diet Cokes and fried calamari until I was green around the gills to hold our table, I didn’t care. Anywhere was better than at work.
Which made me sad. I loved nothing more than getting up every day and going to work. It didn’t matter that the subway was smelly and hot in the summer and soggy with dirty snow slush in the winter. I’d barely noticed those things, to be honest. And when the subway wasn’t running at all because of one technical issue or another, I just walked. I couldn’t wait to get to the office and see where Forest would lead us that day.
I got paid shit for money, and the hours were long. But those of us in our twenties knew to expect things to be like that. Everyone had a roommate, knew where the dollar beers were each night of the week, and frequented the cheapest Chinese restaurants when we didn’t have two nickels left to rub together in the days leading up to payday.
They were good times. I was living the dream. One I’d never known could be mine, given the shitty place where I’d started.
I looked up to see Marina come flying through the diner door, her long black hair waving behind her. Perfect timing. If I had to eat another piece of calamari to hold our table, I might not make it out alive.
“What the hell is going on? I thought you loved your job?” she asked breathlessly. Her office at a big publisher was a few blocks from mine. I knew she was a fast walker, like most New Yorkers, but she must have jogged over, judging by the sweat on her temples.
“Ohmygod. Can I have a sip of your soda?” she asked, grabbing it before I could answer.
When I first met Marina, I called her Mrs. Benson. Those days seemed universes away, and yet, they were really only a few quick years. I’d been hired to nanny her three kids. They welcomed me into their family in a way I’d never experienced in all my years growing up in foster care. Before long, I was calling her Marina instead of Mrs. Benson, and she was looking after me like a big sister. I think of those days as the ones when my life really began.
“Hi, Marina,” I said, stirring the straw in my soda after she slid it back over the table to me.
She reached for my free hand. “C’mon. I’m here, now. Tell me what’s up.”
So I shared the story of my supposed friend Muse hijacking my design and the more devastating piece of Forest not believing me.
“Oh, shit,” she said. “I don’t blame you for being upset.
The waitress came by, and Marina ordered us two giant cheeseburgers and curly fries. She knew exactly what I needed when it came to food.
“You know, Kealy, I believed in you the first moment you walked through my front door. It was just a feeling I had, and it was right. And I still believe in you.”
“Thanks, Marina,” I sniffed. If it weren’t for her belief in me, well, who knew where I’d be. I supposed still providing childcare, not that that was the worst thing, but Marina helped me get into college and then helped me pay for it. But I was going to pay her back some day. It was part of my plan.
“This is what you’re gonna do,” she said, putting down her burger to let me know she was serious. “You’re gonna go back to work, hold your head up, and continue to do kick-ass design. You are going to keep your work to yourself for as long as you absolutely have to before you share it with Forest or anyone else. And you will put this behind you.”
“I don’t know if I can.” One solitary tear dripped onto my half-eaten burger. I knew things were really bad if I couldn’t finish my food.
“Keal, you have no choice. Look, you know I’ve been in publishing for years. In a creative field, people do shitty things. Actually, they do in every field. I’ve seen it all. And this isn’t even the worst you’ll see in your career. You’re tougher than this. And just think, if Muse had to steal your design, that means he has no ideas of his own. If he can’t continue to steal, Forest will eventually see the light.”
She waved the waitress over for the check. She always paid, just like the combination fairy godmother/big sister we all wish we had. And were sometimes lucky enough to get.
