My chest constricts, stomach twirling. Before I can open it, myprofessor begins to distribute the test packets. I quickly stash my phone away, willing my thoughts into focus for the next hour.
It's the longest hour of my life.
As soon as I hand in my completed exam, I bolt out the door. Juggling my bag in one hand, I clumsily maneuver myself into my winter coat, one arm and then the other. To anyone passing by, I probably look like a frenzied mess, bag flinging, arms pushing and pulling, while I maniacally traverse three flights of stairs.
When I’m finally outside, I stop to retrieve my phone. My thumb hovers over the email icon, like tapping it might activate the next nuclear bomb.
It’s been six months since my initial, lackluster results came in. I’m twenty-one years old and I’ve never met another person with my DNA. This mysterious match is my family. To what degree, I don’t know. But it's a start.
A beautiful start.
At some point within the last thirty seconds, I’ve started to cry—this happens to me a lot. I can’t do this here, not amongst the throng of students pressing in around me. No, I’ll use the scenic route home to calm myself down, lower my expectations, so I can approach this with more logic than I’m capable of right now.
Can you call it a scenic route when you run the whole way and don’t take in any scenery?
Twenty minutes later, I’m at my apartment, relieved to discover that my roommate is still out. I discard my winter gear in the entryway and book it to my room where I grab my laptop and settle on the bed. Navigating to my email, I refresh the screen and find the unread message sitting at the top of my inbox.
One last deep breath and I open it.
Gabriella Ruiz, 3rdCousin—once removed, New Mexico—no photo attached.
I imagine that whole “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon” thing. The complex sequence of connection points between myself and a third cousin might as well be rocket science. I can’t make sense of it.
There’s an option to message her directly, but I hesitate. What would I even say?
A quick search on social media reveals countless options. A few accounts list their home as New Mexico, but only a handful of those are public accounts wherein lie hundreds of pictures—more faces than I could even begin to weed through in my hunt for answers.
I don’t know where to begin, so I busy myself with packing for my flight home tomorrow, whipping up my fourth packet of ramen this week and watching the next episode ofEmily in Paris.
A text from my brother is a welcome distraction.
Drew
Hey! Reagan and I can’t wait to see you at Christmas. It’s been too long. Miss you!
Me
Me too! I fly home tomorrow. What day do you guys get there?
Drew
We only have a few days off. We’ll be there middle of next week.
Promise me you’ll take an Uber to the airport.
Me
*insert eye roll emoji* I’ve told you. The subways are not that bad.
Drew
1: Use the emoji
2: Promise me, Gretch.
Me
1: Never
