Chapter 27 #2
“I know, I’m sorry.” I inch closer until I’m standing above her. Molly sighs, then swings her legs over and moves up the chaise. She looks down at the empty space and then up at me. A truce, I realize, and I sit. “Why now, though? What changed?”
Molly is quiet for a long while, and I can see the gears turning behind her watery eyes. Finally, she turns to me, a sense of resolute determination on her face, and she straightens.
“I have a daughter.”
My heart practically leaps up my throat and out of my body. That was not what I was expecting her to say.
“W-What?” I splutter, stunned.
“Surprise,” Molly quips in a sing-song voice, a little smile curving at the corner of her mouth. “She’s nine. The most beautiful, headstrong, stubborn kid. God, she’s incredible.”
Molly’s face lights up when she talks about her daughter, while my jaw is still hanging open, my brain processing the shock.
“Her name is Morgan,” she says, then clears her throat. “And she’s been asking a lot of questions recently.”
“About what?”
“About my parents—why we don’t speak to them, but we speak to my grandparents. About you. She wanted to know why her middle name is Chloe, and where that name comes from.”
I swallow hard. No. No, no, no. “Molly, I—”
“It’s okay. I was still mad at you when she was born, but…
I thought we would have made up after I told you about her.
And then, I just never could.” Molly’s expression has softened, the sadness transforming into something else—something like regret.
Painful. Inevitable. Bittersweet. “She’s the one who convinced me to come, actually. To see you. To make things right.”
My mouth crumples, and I feel tears threatening to spill.
This little girl, whom I didn’t even know—didn’t even have the opportunity to know because I had been too stubborn and stupid—was the reason why Molly was here.
The thought instantly makes my heart ache.
I had been so angry at Molly for coming here, and it was a kid, hopeful that her mom might make up with her oldest friend, who had set this whole thing in motion.
“But it’s not just that,” she admits, then takes a deep breath and sighs, her shoulders rising and falling in one exaggerated motion. What else could she possibly drop on me? “She’s also been asking about her dad.”
“Who’s her…?” And it hits me.
Colin Wakelin.
Molly’s daughter was Colin’s child. The timeline added up. Why I never saw Molly around school again, or even at graduation, makes sense now. I had blocked her on all the socials we used, and we didn’t have many mutual friends, so I never would have learned about Morgan.
“Colin Wakelin,” I murmur.
She nods, melancholy lacing her expression.
“I was sleeping with him,” she croaks out, a single tear trailing down her cheek. “That whole semester, we had been seeing each other. I tried to end things just before the class finished… I should have waited until we had been graded on our final project. I guess he was…mad at me.”
I stop moving. Stop breathing. My brain screeches to a halt, and I can feel my heartbeat thumping through my entire body. My heart cracks open—wide, all-encompassing—and suddenly, everything that happened between us is eclipsed by a single revelation.
Molly didn’t plagiarize anything.
She was, and had always been, completely innocent.
“He was mad at you?” I simply don’t understand. A rich, successful, celebrated filmmaker, who could have anything and any woman he wanted, was mad at a twenty-one-year-old for, what—blowing him off? Having standards?
I almost can’t believe it. But then again…
I think back to every instance throughout my career where I had seen sexism blatantly on display in the industry, but backs remained turned to it nearly every single time.
Bad behavior was always excused by genius or merit.
Voices were silenced with ease if the implications of what they revealed might bring down any man with power, sway, or status.
Another realization dawns on me.
Colin hadn’t just fucked up my career. It was hers he wanted to sink. And he’d succeeded.
“Oh my God, Molly, I’m so sorry.” Tears are starting to stream down her face, and she scrubs at them quickly, trying to hide the hurt she must have bottled up for years. So many regrets begin to fill the yawning pit of despair that has opened in my chest.
This isn’t her fault.
Most of it was Colin’s, yes. But I had also played a part in creating this situation.
I never even gave her a chance to explain herself when I walked out of that asshole’s office.
I had just ghosted her, believing Colin and the college over my best friend.
And I was so wrapped up in what it all meant for me that I never even considered how it might impact Molly.
Without another thought, I pull Molly into me, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug. She sinks against me, sobbing. And we stay that way for a while.
Finally, after her tears settle and her breathing slows, I lean away.
“You didn’t plagiarize anything,” I say. A statement, not a question.
“No—it was all mine.” She shrugs dejectedly.
“I remember…it was really good.”
“Was it? I don’t even remember.” She looks at me, and her brows knit together like she’s going to cry again. “I loved you, Chloe. You were my best friend. My sister.”
“I know,” I say, a sob choking out of me.
“I know I should have tried harder to explain to you what happened. I let you walk away from me, and I didn’t even try to make things right. But I was too embarrassed. I didn’t even know I was pregnant yet, and then when I found out, everything was such a mess.”
“It’s not your fault, Molly… None of it is.” She’s quiet for a moment before answering.
“I know it’s not. I’ve done a lot of work over the last decade.
What Colin did was wrong. And while I know I played a part in the misunderstanding, you were supposed to be there for me…
and you weren’t.” I stifle another sob and wipe away a few tears.
“I thought I’d forgiven you a long time ago, but I realized as soon as I saw your face that I hadn’t.
If I had, I might have reached out sooner. ”
Molly’s words hit a nerve, and suddenly I realize how long I’ve been holding on to my anger.
For a while, it was because I felt betrayed by my best friend.
But then, every time something went wrong in my career, it became her fault, even if it had nothing to do with her.
I would think, well, if Molly hadn’t sunk my career by costing me that internship, I wouldn’t even be here right now, and I wouldn’t have to deal with this failure.
But that was the thing—I never did deal with my failure.
That internship wasn’t a golden ticket to success. And I should know that by now. How many interns have I worked with whose careers have changed trajectory because this industry itself is hard for anyone?
I put so much stock in the idea that if I had just started my career differently, I would be better off.
But that was never a guarantee.
The only person who has any sway over what I do in my life…is me.
Instead of reaching for what I want, I’ve fallen into the bad habit of settling for what’s handed to me—B-cam positions and bad boyfriends.
And in my career, even if I asked for more and was denied, I never fought for it.
I never tried to make my dreams happen even when someone told me no.
That was why I envied Sora when I first met her, because she had that fire and determination in her that I so badly wished I had at her age.
For all I talk about becoming a documentarian, not just some replaceable camera operator, I haven’t made it happen. Not because of any external factors, but because I’ve just been waiting—waiting for someone to see my value and grant me my chance.
Instead of taking that chance on myself.
Instead of pushing through when things get tough.
I wrap my arms around Molly again, and she leans into me, our bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle—a little scuffed around the edges from being lost to one another for so long—but still a perfect fit.
“You’ve got a smart kid, you know,” I say quietly, after a few minutes of thoughtful silence, and she laughs.
“I know. I never made any other mom friends when she was born,” Molly explains, “and for the first six years of her life, I worked two jobs just to make ends meet, so I never had time for any kind of friends. But she’s older now, and things are more stable in my career.
Not great, but better. I’ve told her so many stories about you, about us.
She wanted me to have that again. But I wanted it, too.
I think a lot about what it would be like to have you in our lives, because I think you’d understand what it’s like. ”
“What do you mean? Because I didn’t have one of my parents around growing up?” I ask, my head tilted in confusion.
“No,” she says, her eyes meeting mine. “Because you are one.”
I shake my head, bewildered. “I’m not a parent.”
“You practically raised Kyla, Chloe. And when you weren’t raising her…
you were raising me. Parenthood isn’t just about blood or birth.
It’s about nurturing another person. Sacrificing, so they can have more.
Giving, even when you’re empty.” Molly turns to face me fully, and her cool hands grasp mine as she says, “If anyone knows what it’s like to be a parent, it’s you. ”