Kiss and Kin

Marni looks down at her menu, which is slowly growing heavier in her clammy palms with each passing minute. She contemplates the purpose of such oversized, leather-bound menus. What are you trying to prove? I can’t imagine anyone comes to a restaurant, feels the weight of the menu, and thinks Oh, this restaurant can’t be that good. Feel how light this menu is! Imagine being someone with limited mobility or dexterity trying to hold this monstrosity. Not very inclusive of you, Chez Marc, she thinks as she waits silently for her guest to arrive.

Marni had arrived 20 minutes early, to ensure she got preferential seating facing the room, so as not to be surprised when she walked toward the table to join her. This was already going to be the most stressful day of her life; she did not need to be caught off guard too. She has a whole thing prepared, with contingency plans in place, and part of that plan is to observe her walking through the restaurant to assess the mood and modify as necessary. The destination would be the same, but the journey would depend entirely on her mother.

Marni specifically chose lunch as the time of day for this exchange for several reasons, the most important being, she does not want to spend her Friday night with her mother. She has people to see and debriefing to do, and she does not need her time being eaten up by less-than-pleasant company. Marni has reached an age where she chooses exactly who and what she wants to spend her time doing. She is working hard to set boundaries and fill her life with those who love and support her for who she is as a person, not who she is in relationship to them. Her mother has never seen the point in caring for people for the sake of it. According to her, acquaintances are meant to serve a purpose to you and the closeness of that relationship varies based on how much you can get out of it. Marni was not one of the closer relationships to her mother. The feeling was mutual.

As time ticks on, Marni considers her mother might be blowing her off. This would not be the first time, but she had told her mother this was important. As cold and distant as her mother could be, she usually respects the sanctity of an important event for her daughter. She would generally make it known she did not find the event especially interesting or significant, but she would still prioritize it. In that way, Marni appreciates her mother. While she looks down at her phone to see if she has received a missed text, she is, regrettably, caught off guard.

“Hello Marina. Got held up with a rather annoying client. Did you order me a Manhattan?”

Her mother, native to Chicago, and thus should have at least a hint of a midwestern accent, always speaks in that way that rich people do in movies: drenched with condescension, saturated with superiority. Think, less Laura Ingalls Wilder and more Cruella de Vil. When her friends would ask what the accent was all about, Marni would just tell them, “It’s so people don’t mistake her for poor.”

“No. No one’s been by yet. I also didn’t know if you wanted one. It’s only 1 in the afternoon.”

“What a stupid thing to say, love,” she declares, and waves over an unsuspecting woman walking by with a tray of food.

Marni leans over as the waitress gracefully balances the tray on her hip. “I don’t even know if that’s our waiter, Mom,” she whispers.

“Rye Manhattan, up.”

The waitress smiles and nods. “And for you, miss?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m not ready. I haven’t even looked.” Marni stammers apologetically. She scrambles to open the menu, but her mother interjects.

“Why don’t you just make that two?” and wrinkles her nose with knowing smile to the waitress, who nods again and walks elegantly away, tray balancing seamlessly on her hand once again.

“Mom, Manhattan’s are gross. I’m not drinking that.”

“What’s going on with you?” her mother continues, ignoring Marni’s pleas. “You look tired. Do you always dress like that for work? Doesn’t your boss ever say anything about your presentation? You have bags under your eyes for God’s sake.”

“I work from home, Mom. And I’m rarely on camera. Also, really nice to see you too. You look austere, as always.” Marni shoots back. This is not how she wanted to start this lunch. If she had seen how her mother strode in, she could have been prepared for the criticism. Her mother always has a tell-tale look when she was in a foul mood. She walks with even more intent, with shorter, quicker steps, and lips so pursed you can see the signs of aging peeking through her matte lipstick. The Manhattan order should have given it away, though.

Her mother disregards her entirely. She looks around the restaurant, looking up at the ceiling, then, craning her neck to peer at the bar, full of men in business suits and women in perfectly fitted dresses and stilettos. Her mother chose this spot because of its proximity to her work, and she is never too far from the office. Marni would have been content just meeting for coffee, as long as it was in public. This is not a discussion she wants to have in the privacy of her own home, despite the private nature of such a conversation. Her mother is always on her best behavior in public places. She has a reputation to uphold, you have to understand.

“The lighting in here is quite dated, don’t you think? I have not been here in years, and it’s really gone downhill.”

“Why did you choose it? I can’t afford to get a glass of sparkling water here, let alone an actual meal!”

“It is close to the office, hon. I do not have a lot of time and I did not want to spend it traipsing around to whatever shithole you would’ve picked. No offense,” she says through a thin, barely visible smile. “And obviously I know this is out of your budget. It is on me today,” she says, unsurprisingly, because her mother always pays when they meet out to eat. Her mother still pays for nearly everything, actually.

“Well, thanks. I appreciate it. I’m glad you made time to meet me for lunch today. It’s been a while and I wanted to talk to you about something.” Marni says, with a little less gusto than she expected.

“This isn’t some new art venture, is it? You know I’m happy to help you fund whatever pipedream you scheme up, but at some point, you need to take your life more seriously. This art stuff is so…superfluous. You are in Chicago for God’s sake. This place is littered with art. Literally.”

“You know, for someone who hasn’t been to church in 40 years, you worry a lot about the sake of God.”

“Don’t be crass, Marina,” she tuts.

“It’s not about my work, Mom. I need to talk to you about something else.”

“How much do you need?” her mother asks as she reaches behind her to grab her purse from the chair.

“None, Mom. Please, just listen.”

“Whatever it is, Marina, we’ll figure it out,” she says, with an air of disappointment.

“Mom, I –” Marni starts, but is interrupted by an audible gasp coming from across the restaurant.

“Anna?!” a tall, slim woman shrieks as she shuffles over to Marni’s table in sharp, impractical heels. The woman towers over the duo, beaming down at Marni’s mother with wonderment. “My god, it’s been ages!” She leans down to kiss Anna’s cheek, not waiting for her to rise. Her long, manicured fingernails snag on Anna’s tailored suit jacket.

“Caroline,” Anna replies in a monotonal voice. “So good to see you.”

Marni looks back and forth between her mother and this stranger. No one bothers to look in her direction and she is starting to feel awkward. She is also irritated at the audacity of this woman. Not only had she disrupted the entire restaurant with her shrill screech, she interrupts the most pivotal conversation of Marni’s life up to this moment. Even her mother’s acquaintances orbit in their own, selfish world. Marni attempts to clear her throat to gain some attention, but Anna stares at her, disapprovingly. “Drink some water, darling,” she says as she turns back to Caroline.

Caroline utterly glows in the reflection of Anna. She is so delighted to see her old friend she still is unable to acknowledge, or even notice, Marni fidgeting and making noise right below her. Finally, Marni has had enough.

“Mom, I know you need to get back to the office soon, so we should order and get on with our lunch, don’t you think?” she says, more coyly than intended.

For the first time during the brief, yet staggeringly annoying interaction, Caroline looks down toward Marni. “Oh, this must be your…daughter, Anna.” Marni could tell she was straining to see the similarities or something to complement. “She certainly has your candor.”

Marni furrows her brow, knowing full well what she means by this. Marni and her mother have never really resembled each other. Anna is always so confident and assuming; she knows how to take up space and look stunning while doing so. Marni had always been ethereal and neurotic. Both women are beautiful in their own way, but Anna’s beauty is more noticeable. With her shiny black hair perfectly streaked with gray and her impeccably tailored suits on her tall, slim body, she is the envy of every woman in a board room. She commands so much, with such few words. Her existence is powerful enough.

Marni, on the other hand, bears little resemblance to the powerful woman across from her. She has recently dyed her hair a lavender color, with an under-cut shaved from her ears to the nape of her neck. She wears ill-fitting clothes she thrifts or borrows from friends, and her hands are perpetually speckled with acrylic paint. She is a walking art school cliché. While no one would argue Marni’s beauty, it is not nearly as obvious as Anna’s. While her mother strides through life with her head held high, eyes firmly looking ahead, Marni shuffles around with her shoulders slumped, looking down as she walks.

“This is Marina,” Anna says as she gestures toward her daughter. Caroline aims down to shake her hand, but Marni throws up her hand in a tight wave.

“Hi, nice to meet you. People call me Marni.”

“Marina is such a beautiful name. Why ruin it with such a childish nickname?” Anna tuts. They have been having this argument for years, and Marni does not feel the need to get into it again.

“It’s nice to meet you, Marina.” Caroline replies while turning back to Anna, triggering an eye roll from Marni. Unbelievable, she thinks. I literally just told you what to call me.

“Do you mind if I join you for a drink? I’d love to catch up!” Caroline asks with all the tact of a toddler, as she looks around to grab a chair.

Thankfully, Anna chimes in before she can find a suitable seat. “This isn’t really that kind of place, dear, where you can just pull up a seat to someone’s table.” Marni is relieved, but also recognizes that her mother is not doing this to protect the sanctity of their lunch, but to protect her character. How embarrassing to be that table cramming in a third person to a two-person reservation? Can you even imagine?!

Caroline blushes, looking mortified. “Oh, you are so right, Anna. Maybe we can catch up soon then. I’ll leave my business card with you, so you have my new number!” Caroline places it on the corner of the table, tapping it twice.

Anna glances down at the card, not bothering to pick it up, or move it from the edge. “So good to see you, Caroline.”

“You too, Anna. Can’t wait to see you soon!” she exclaims as she bends down for a final kiss on the cheek. She briefly glances at Marni and tilts her head slightly. “Nice to meet you, Marina.”

“Bye, Carol,” Marni jeers, proud of her passive-aggressive jab. It goes entirely unnoticed as Caroline struts toward the bar.

After Caroline leaves, Anna allows herself to relax her shoulders a bit, looking up to the ceiling. “That woman is exhausting. We went to grad school together and I truly thought she was out of my life. I heard she moved to Dallas, but evidently, she is back.” Anna takes a sip of her Manhattan that had arrived during all the pleasantries.

“Well, she seems terrible. And rude.” Marni says, with no restraint.

“She is not rude, darling. Just bothersome. She means well, but is often, just too much.”

Marni fidgets with her napkin. The time has come for her to open up again, barring any other distractions. She can hear her heart beating in her ears and feels a drop of sweat trickle down her spine. “Ok, so where were we,” she musters up the courage to ask.

“Darling, we will have to cut this short. I need to head back to the office to finish up some proposals before the weekend. You understand, right?”

“Mom, we haven’t even ordered yet! No, I need you to stay and talk to me. I need you to listen.”

“Sweetheart, I am listening. I am also a very busy woman. If you want, you can walk back to the office with me and we can chat, then I will have my driver take you back to Hyde Park.” Anna swiftly hands her credit card to a waiter walking by who is not the same woman who took their order. Marni had not even registered that her mother retrieved her wallet, let alone paid for the drinks.

“Mom, no.” Marni nearly pounds the table as she puts down her napkin. “You need to make time for me.”

“Marina, I have made time for you and our time is up. Walk with me to the office, or we can reschedule for another time, maybe in a more private place that we will not be interrupted.” Anna begins to pull out her wallet.

“Mom, I’m gay!” Marni blurts out, much louder than expected. This was absolutely, without a doubt, the worst way she could have gone about talking about this. She wants to tell her mother that she was dating someone. That the person she was dating was special to her and she feels like she finally found someone who understands and loves her for who she is. That they live together and plan to spend the rest of their lives together. That she finally feels seen, and heard, and understood, by both her partner and herself. That the person who is bringing her this much joy and life is, unexpectedly, a woman. But instead, she word-vomits something that she isn’t even sure is true about herself (“sexuality is really more of a spectrum, isn’t it?” she had just philosophized with a friend of hers the other day) in an awkward and humiliating attempt to make her mother stay. She is so ashamed that she doesn’t even allow herself the space to be nervous about her mother’s reaction to the news, just that the entirety of the lunch crowd heard her deepest secret. Marni slows down her breathing and closes her eyes. Okay, well now you have her attention. Try again, she thinks to herself. But before she can open her mouth to explain herself, Anna chuckles.

“Well, that is obvious. Is that all this is about, because I really have to get back to work. Next time, just give me a call.” She has already signed the receipt for their drinks, one of them entirely untouched, and she stands, securing her handbag on her forearm. Anna punctuates the conversation with a “Love you, darling,” and walks toward the door.

Marni sits stunned, flushed, and bristling with anger. She does not even know how to process the dismissal from her mother, but she can feel the red-hot rage burning inside of her. She knows from experience, however, that there is no use fighting with her mother. Marni is always the one that ends up apologizing through tears. Her therapist, whom she has been seeing since she was a teenager, is working with Marni on expressing her feelings more overtly. “You cannot outrun your feelings. They will always catch up and run you over”, she tells her, nearly weekly. Marni thinks she could do without the metaphors but sees her point. She knows she needs to address her feelings directly with her mother. This is a major shift in her life’s trajectory and she should be able to tell her story as she sees it, not have her mother dictate her path for her. Marni sighs, picks up her phone, and begins typing a text.

Hey Dad! You around for dinner? I wanna talk to you about something

She stuffs her phone in her back pocket and gathers her things. Can’t go much worse with Dad, she thinks, as she chokes down her sweaty Manhattan in a single gulp.