Chapter 5 - MARISSA CALLED ME
The last person I expected to hear from was Marissa.
She called from an unknown number.
“Rachel?”
“Yes.”
“This is Marissa.”
I almost hung up.
Then:
“I’m sorry.”
Not enough to keep me listening.
She rushed on.
“I’m not calling about Jordan emotionally.”
“Good.”
“I need medical information.”
“No.”
“I cannot give you Jordan’s private records.”
“I know.”
“I’m asking what you told them.”
I became still.
“Why?”
She started crying.
Because Jordan had demanded a paternity test.
Not after birth.
A prenatal noninvasive test performed through a legitimate medical provider.
Results:
Jordan was not the biological parent.
I sat silently.
Marissa continued:
“I made a mistake.”
One mistake.
People love singular nouns when describing patterns.
“There was someone else.”
“A coworker?”
“Yes.”
“Did Jordan know?”
“Not until the test.”
I should have felt satisfaction.
Justice.
Poetic symmetry.
Instead I felt tired.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to tell Jordan the fertility issue doesn’t mean they can never have children.”
I almost laughed.
“That is a doctor’s job.”
“They won’t listen to me.”
“That is no longer my job either.”
Silence.
Then Marissa said:
“I knew Jordan was married.”
There.
“I’m sorry.”
“Okay.”
She seemed startled.
“That’s it?”
“What do you want?”
“Forgiveness?”
“No.”
“Punishment?”
“No.”
“Then yes.”
“That’s it.”
I was done carrying strangers’ emotional housekeeping.
Before hanging up, Marissa whispered:
“Diane hates me now.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
The unborn baby had transformed overnight from miracle grandchild into evidence of humiliation.
“Protect your child from that.”
Marissa became quiet.
Then:
“I will.”
I hoped she meant it.
Jordan and Marissa separated before the baby was born.
Jordan had no legal parental role after paternity was clarified.
Marissa eventually reconciled with the biological father enough to establish a co-parenting arrangement.
Not romance.
Responsibility.
Good.
Jordan, for the first time in years, was left with nobody else to blame.
May you like
That was when the real apology began.
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