Marissa thought about it for several more seconds, then typed, What party?
Sarah typed, You weren’t invited???? and Marissa replied, Nope. Then Sarah typed, thats such bullshit hold a sec.
Perfect. Sarah was a big drama queen and loved stirring things up. If Sarah got Marissa the invite, at least it wouldn’t look like she was desperate.
Waiting for Sarah to get back to her, Marissa checked out the Daily News article about the shooting, the one her mom had told her to avoid. God, it was like a freaking nightmare. Anyone who read it would think her father was a nutcase or something. She felt bad for her dad, but she was angry at him, too, for dragging her and her mom into this. Their names were right there in the paper, for the whole world to see. She wondered if it would blow over or if for the rest of her life when people found out she was Adam Bloom’s daughter they’d hate her, treat her like she was Charles Manson’s daughter or something. She was so panicked that she researched how to change her name. It was apparently complicated for post- 9/11 security reasons, but it was doable. Her middle name was Suzanne, so she could be Marissa Suzanne. She was going to seriously consider doing it if things got any worse.
She was still reading the article when she heard a beep, announcing a new IM. She switched screens and saw that Sarah had invited Darren into their IM session. Darren was playing dumb, writing that of course she was invited to the party and he was so sorry he forgot to tell her about it. Meanwhile, it was so obvious that he hadn’t invited her on purpose to try to get her upset. What he was doing was so immature, so ju nior high school.
So, you going? Sarah typed. Marissa replied, yeah I’ll be there, and Darren wrote, Sweet.
Marissa was nauseous.
The rest of the day, Marissa browsed job listings and sent out a few rйsumйs, but she wasn’t hopeful. She thought she had a great cover letter that she tailored for each job she applied to, but no one seemed interested in hiring her, and she was running out of places to apply to. Suddenly afraid she was going to be unemployed and living with her parents forever, she downloaded grad school applications for master’s programs in art history from a number of schools including Yale, Bard, and Brown. She doubted she’d actually apply to the schools- she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go to grad school at all, and she definitely didn’t want to go for a year or two- but at least it made her feel like she had a fallback plan.
Her mom had gone out shopping, and when she returned Marissa wanted to avoid another depressing conversation, so she stayed in her room and locked the door. She read an e-mail from her friend Jen: don’t know if you saw this yet, this really sucks but thought you’d want to read it anyway, sorry. Marissa clicked on the link to Daily Intel, where there was another scathing article about her dad. This one was an interview, and her dad sounded like he was boasting about the shootings, like he was so proud of himself. God, what the hell was wrong with him anyway? Weren’t things bad enough? Did he really have to go ahead and make an even bigger ass of himself? People actually read that blog; people Marissa knew read that blog. This was starting to get seriously embarrassing. Jen had already read the article, and she loved to blab and would probably tell everybody she knew, and Marissa and Jen knew pretty much the same people.
At around seven, Marissa left to meet Sarah for drinks at some new bar in midtown. As Sarah went on about how happy she was in Boston with her boyfriend in their great new apartment, Marissa couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. She’d hooked up a few times with Darren and one night with the bass player from Tone Def, but she hadn’t had a serious boyfriend since ju nior year of college, in, God, almost two years.
Later, in the cab to the party, Marissa felt so desperate that she was seriously considering sleeping with Darren tonight. But then she weighed all the pros and cons and only came up with a long list of cons. The only reason she’d gotten involved with Darren at all over the past few years was because she hadn’t had much choice. The ratio of girls to guys at Vassar had been high to begin with, and the ratio of girls to straight guys had been even higher. Things were so bad for girls that a lot of Marissa’s friends had been lesbians in college, or at least bi, but the idea of being a LUG- lesbian until graduation- hadn’t appealed to Marissa so whenever she got really hard up she wound up settling for Darren. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good- looking, because she actually thought he was pretty cute- tall and lanky with short curly hair and big brown eyes; goofy, but in a cool way, like Josh Groban. The problem was she didn’t feel any real connection with him. They didn’t have a lot in common, and whenever she tried to have a conversation about movies or art- or anything she was into- she could tell he was zoning out. She’d made it clear to him many times that she was interested in him for sex only, and he’d always say he was cool with that, but then after they’d hook up a few times he’d start getting possessive, calling her all the time and getting weirdly jealous about any guy she even mentioned in casual conversation, and she’d have to cut him off. She knew if she slept with him tonight it would just start the cycle all over again, and she didn’t feel like dealing with all of that.
As the cab pulled up in front of his parents’ building, she decided she definitely wouldn’t have sex with him. She’d just hang out for a while and call it a night.
Marissa had been to Darren’s parents’ apartment a few times before. The space was awesome- three bedrooms, high ceilings, crown molding, hardwood floors- and it was extremely well furnished. She even liked the borderlinetacky Pizza Place- esque oil paintings of Venetian scenes in the dining room. She didn’t know where his parents were tonight, but she knew it was highly unlikely that they knew anything about this party.
As she’d expected, the apartment was infested with Vassar people- i.e., people she’d hoped she’d never have to see again once college ended, but in the four and a half months since graduation it seemed like she was running into them on a regular basis. It amazed her how this could happen. New York City had like twelve million people, and sometimes it felt like she was still in a college town and it was impossible to meet anyone new.
She hung out for a while talking to Megan and Caitlin, who’d lived in her dorm freshman year. They were both from Scarsdale-’nough said. Then this guy Zach Harrison came over and lamely started hitting on her. Zach had dated one of Marissa’s old house mates; he was one of those boisterous, heavyset guys who laughed loudly and sprayed saliva when he talked, especially when he was drunk, like right now. He cornered Marissa- literally, backing her into a corner in the dining room, blocking her escape with his huge stomach- and told her stories about people from school whom she either didn’t know or didn’t care about. Of course he thought the stories were hilarious and kept belly laughing, spitting in her face. Finally Drew McPhearson came over and said something to Zach, and Marissa jumped at the opportunity to escape and headed down the hallway, past more Vassar people and some non- Vassar people, toward Darren’s room.
Darren and several others were sitting around, chilling, listening to Daughtry, getting wasted. Aside from Darren, the only other Vassar person in the room was Alison Kutcher- sadly no relation to Ashton. The non- Vassars all looked skanky, and one woman looked burnt- out and in her thirties. Marissa figured they were some of Darren’s drug clients.
“Hey, there she is,” Darren said, and he got up, his eyes glassy and bloodshot and kissed her on the lips. She didn’t have a chance to turn her head or she would’ve.