Chapter 15
According to Robyn’s grandfather, there were only two things in life that truly mattered.
A paycheck
A partner to spend it on
He’d told her that in kindergarten, and Robyn had memorized it, lived by it, like a code of honor, ever since. She probably shouldn’t have touted it in class the very next day (she’ll always remember her teacher’s snicker), but Robyn couldn’t help it. Even as a precocious blonde and brilliant schoolgirl, she’d loved the picture that her grandfather’s words painted.
A paycheck and a partner became her goalposts.
Robyn had always had an entrepreneurial bent. In the seventh grade, she rebranded the middle school store with a line of custom candies. Sure, all she did was unwrap the traditional boxes of candy, stir them up in a cellophane bag, and tie them with pink and purple strings, but she sold them at an upcharge and turned a profit in a blink. She transformed the store into Robyn’s Candy Bar and proudly told her parents to put her allowance on pause.
The partner element was harder. Finding someone to love and trust wasn’t as easy as building out a healthy bottom line. Robyn was turned on by profit sheets and marketing briefs. She woke up in the middle of the night with ideas, cartoon dollar signs spinning in her eyeballs. She worked hard and wore her wealth proudly. And why shouldn’t she indulge in the Cartier bracelets, the Chanel purses, the Gucci sneakers when she wanted to? Robyn knew she could be beautiful and passionate about business at the same time. Sure, her nose was purchased, but the rest of her was as authentic as it came. Her grandpa had encouraged her to take the world by storm. To stop at nothing. To conquer her dreams!
Unfortunately, a Barbie doll blonde at Wharton touting an idea for a vibrator that doubled as a dust buster didn’t do much to endear professors or peers to her mission statement. She was their Elle Woods nightmare. The secret scoffs, the pompous glares. The girls who got close just to stab her in the back. The men who gleaned the value of her bank accounts and dated her for the jets and the trips.
As a result, Robyn was constantly breaking up with people. Friends, boyfriends, employees. Call it trust issues, call it the curse of a vulnerable heart. The more success she saw, the more she craved a partner, a family, to spend it on.
By the time Robyn graduated, she knew she had to double down. If no one else would take her seriously, then at least she always would. She made rules and she stuck to them. Balance. Wellness. Health. She put her family above all else. Her parents were supportive, no matter what she did. Her grandfather a never-ending source of wisdom. Despite (or perhaps because of) their financial security, Robyn always knew her family’s love came with no ties. It was unconditional. Even if she never found a partner, even if she never made 30 Under 30 (but thank God, she did), her parents would be proud. Boyfriend or not.
Dating in the city was even more challenging. Each new prospect came with all new friends, new experiences, new tests and hurdles. Some were enticing, like job interviews she knew she’d ace. Some were horrifying, like the sixth-floor walk-up where all the drinkware consisted of cups that were stolen from local bars and still smelled like stale beer. (That was the first and last time she’d sip pinot out of a pint glass.)
Then Robyn met Mac.
He was different. He was kind. He laughed at her jokes, encouraged her ideas. He even bought her a pair of fluffy slippers just to keep at his apartment, because her feet got so cold.
On their fourth date, before he introduced her to his brother and his brother’s girlfriend, Mac had warned Robyn: Cam and Liz were annoyingly perfect, and his parents were annoyingly obsessed with them. Mac never seemed to realize that his parents were annoyingly obsessed with him, too. Cam and Liz were warm and welcoming. Their love was so glowing, Robyn felt like she could rub it on her own skin like lipstick or glitter.
Was Mac her partner? Was this her forever home?
By the time summer came, though, Robyn knew something had turned sour. Mac was different, stressed and tired. Cam was different, too. Dinners with Mrs. Peters weren’t anything like mealtime with her parents, her grandfather. At the Peters home, there were strict questions and clear answers. Expectations and rules. Mac lied about his PT appointments, for instance, which Robyn had never seen him attend. And if he didn’t check in with his mother daily, he’d get a disappointed text. Robyn loved Mac’s puppy-dog eyes, but she knew that he wasn’t a pet. She had been on enough private flights to recognize the sound of a helicopter.
And it was starting to seem like Mac was right under its blades.
Robyn tried to encourage him to stand up for himself, but his mother never took her seriously, and slowly, Mac stopped taking her seriously, too. She wasn’t impressed by Robyn’s family or fortune. She wasn’t moved by their shared entrepreneurial energy. Instead, she hinted that Robyn shouldn’t have come to Liz and Cam’s proposal party, that everyone knew she wasn’t long-term.
Robyn felt angry, hurt. She started nagging—ugh, she could hear it in her voice. It was so unlike her, but she wanted him to stick up for himself. For her. To stop feeling like he had to play some civic part, fulfill some familial duty. Who did he owe but himself? Why wasn’t he allowed to fall and fail just like everyone else?
She begrudgingly agreed to the Fire Island trips, even though she found the ferry schedule constricting and she detested the LIRR. She’d do it for Mac. Her Mac. She’d do it for that second ideal, that partner, that chance.
Then Mac asked for a break.
They’d fought last night, after he’d abandoned her at that disgusting Bamboo House. With strangers, drunk and shouting. Talking about a high school she didn’t care about, references she would never understand.
Why couldn’t Mac have stayed by her side? Why did he have to follow that Maggie girl she’d caught him staring at too many times when he thought no one was looking? Robyn knew they’d been best friends in high school, dated senior year. She’d heard the whispers in the group, about whether Mac and Maggie would get back together now that she’d moved home. As if Mac didn’t have a girlfriend already? As if Robyn wasn’t even an obstacle worth noting. Mac promised it was over, but she wasn’t blind.
He said they had been fighting all summer. They didn’t fit like they used to. She had seen it coming, but still, she was a bit surprised. She was typically the one initiating the breakups.
Strangely, in the end, Robyn didn’t mind. It felt like the leveling of some scale. Balance was good, she reminded herself on the ferry home. Breakups could have balance, too.
Robyn lifted her face to the sun as the Ocean Beach shoreline shrank from her vantage. She wanted to find her partner, someone to spend her paycheck on. She wanted someone to look at her the way Cam looked at Liz. The kind of look where you forgot to breathe. Romance more essential than oxygen.
Maybe it wouldn’t be Mac after all.
Maybe Robyn would just have to think of some new ideas.