Page 169 of Let's Kiss and Tell

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Lucy

When I’m outside, I sometimes remember to look up. Nine out of ten times I’m met with the tops of palm trees positioned against a bright blue sky. There’s always a slight urge to take a picture, but there isn’t really a point in that. It’s not like I’ll find myself years from now looking back at a photo of the sky, nor will I post it to social media right now. So instead, I just take in the view and breathe. I breathe in the early-October air that’s still eighty degrees. God, I love LA.

Reconnecting with myself is something I’ve been prioritizing the past couple of weeks. The second round of layoffs happened atThe Journal,and thankfully, I’m safe. I’ve been focusing on my column, spending more time with my parents, and going to therapy regularly. Slowly, but surely, I’ll understand what I want in life. Until then, I’m going to be present in the journey.

I’m a little early for my boxing class, so I prop myself up against the hood of my car and look at my phone. There’s a drafted message in my notes app that I read as if I hadn’t read it a hundred times last night already.

Hey, this is super random, but my name is Lucy. I’m not sure if you remember me. We met once years and years ago briefly, but we have the same dad. I know you might not want anything to do with me and that’s totally fine, but I wanted to apologize for not reaching out sooner. I’m in the LA area if you ever want to get together for a coffee or something. No pressure to say yes or ever respond to this, but if you’re interested, I’d love to get to know you or just talk. My # is below.

With the help of Jonah, who is chronically online, we were able to secretly find my dad and Natalie’s son. I’m not ready to call him my brother or even my half brother, but I’m ready to at least extend an invitation. An invitation to talk. His name is Jordan and he’s eighteen. A little older than I was when I found out about our parents. I remember desperately needing someone to talk to at his age, just wishing someone understood what I was going through, and I want him to have that option. Maybe he’ll want nothing to do with me. And that’s more than fine. To be honest, I don’t want to be one big happy family, and I don’t think I’ll ever want to have a relationship with his mom, but the same way all of this had nothing to do withme,it has nothing to do withhimeither. So not being strangers is at least a start.

I copy the message and then find his social profile. Once I send the message request, I immediately shove my phone into my gym bag. I’m nervous, on edge, but I feel like a cracked surface that’s slowly being spackled.

Throwing my bag over my shoulder I head toward the boxing studio. For the next hour I push myself, harder than I have in a while. I don’t think of anything and let my mind become a complete blank. I lose myself with each jab, cross, and uppercut. When class is over, I’ve forgotten I sent Jordan a message until I see that I have a text from an unknown number on my phone.

Hi Lucy, it’s Jordan. Thanks for reaching out. It means a lot. I’m at UCLA getting ready for exams. Maybe in a few weeks? I’ll message you when I’m done.

And another text right after.

Thanks again.

My already fast heart rate begins to pick up, and this time, my message comes out a lot more effortlessly.

Sounds great. Good luck on exams, talk soon.

I’m at the office writing a piece called “Are You Being Love-Bombed? Here Are the Signs” when an email notification appears at the bottom right corner of my screen. It’s not the email that causes me to stop, it’s the name: Nadia Lewis.

Subject: Quick Chat

Hi Lucy,

Do you have a few minutes to chat today? Feel free to come by my office at any time.

Instinctively, I peek over my cubicle to Jonah’s vacant desk. If he were here, he would tell me to not overthink the message, get up off my ass, and go see Nadia.

So I do.

I head toward the elevators and hit the fourth floor. The ride is long, tense. Going down there feels almost like trespassing. Like this is someone else’s turf that I should respectfully stay clear of. I assume the feeling is mutual.

When I step out of the elevator, I make a sharp left as opposed to the right that I always used to take. I don’t even bother looking in that direction. I’m careful not to make eye contact with anyone as I walk past the news team. It’s a similar blueprint to my floor but everything feels just a little bit different, like I’m in an alternate universe. The smell is slightly off, the cubicles are the same but decorated differently, and there are unfamiliar faces all down the hallway.

Approaching the corner office, I see Nadia sitting at her desk, door closed, and she’s wearing a maroon blazer with matching pants. I lightly knock and she looks up and gestures for me to come inside.

“Lucy!” She smiles and then sits back in her chair. “Please, take a seat.”

“Hi.” I sit across from her. There’s a lavender smell coming from her diffuser in the corner. I imagine one would need a lot of calming scents working in a fast-paced environment likeThe Journal.“How are you?”

“Busy as always,” she says. “Thanks for taking the time to meet. I promise this will be quick.”

“Thankyoufor taking the time to meet with me,” I say. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s great.” Nadia nods. “So, we have a new role opening on the news team. It’s for a reporter. I’m going to be transparent, it’s more on the junior side—not as many bylines, but considering you don’t have a background in news, I think it’s the perfect transition.”

My mouth opens. That isnotwhat I was expecting.

“Oh,” I exhale. “I-I don’t know what to say…”