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“Your brand is you, the original Molly Sullivan, Queen of Realness, Everybody’s Best Friend,” Brookelle continued. “Enough influencers out there do home design or book reviews or whatever—your thing is being funny and relatable, sharing everything about your life, and that’s what they come for: the full Monty.”
Molly wondered if Brookelle had any idea what the full Monty meant. Her assistant must have been a toddler when that movie came out. “I’m not going to talk about Scott or Ella, you know that.”
“Then you’re going to have to figure out another way to connect with your followers. To let them in.”
“I’m still letting them in!” But she knew that wasn’t quite true. She was keeping a huge chunk of her life off-limits, which felt disorienting but also... good.
“Think about ways to let them in more,” Brookelle said, the avatar’s black-lined eyes narrowing. “Post a picture of yourself in your bra and underwear, like those Dove Real Women ads, or whatever. Show off your stretch marks, say you’ve earned those tiger stripes, blah blah blah. People eat that shit up.”
“I’m not posting pictures of my stretch marks!” Molly was all about being real, but come on. Even the gynecology visit video had stayed PG-rated.
“Well, figure something out. People are getting bored seeing videos of your house and backyard.”
Molly said goodbye, wishing she could slam the phone into the receiver. She settled for punching the “End Chat” button really hard with her thumb and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling.
The problem was, she didn’t have anyone to connect with IRL, and Molly needed people like she needed air. Scott’s full-weekend river-rafting trips, all that time with the two girls but no adult to talk to, were leaving her batty.
Grabbing her phone, she sent a text message to a local mom she’d met at the pool:
Hi! Would you like to get the girls together today to play?
Within a few minutes, her phone buzzed.
Sorry, I have plans.
What about tomorrow?
Molly pressed send before she could think about how needy that sounded.
That doesn’t work, either.
Disappointment curdled in her stomach. So pathetic—Molly Sullivan, Everybody’s Best Friend, with not a single person to talk to. Female friendships were even more laden with pitfalls than dating, it seemed. Especially in a small town where everybody already knew everybody else.
Then she thought about Liv—she was new here, too. With a smile, Molly sent her a text:
Hey!! Want to hang out later??
But even after waiting for a full five minutes, there was no response.
That stung; Molly had invited Liv to a party! Introduced her to dozens of people! But Liv had probably found friends her own age to hang out with, not a boring thirtysomething mom. Molly leaned forward, fingers at her temples, and tried to think. Not about how lonely she was, but about her career. About where to go from here.
She still found a deep well of satisfaction from connecting with her followers and hopefully making their lives better. In the back of her mind, though, she could never forget that her livelihood depended on those likes and comments. Revealing more, just to gain followers or keep her sponsors happy, seemed cheap. If she could share something about Scott—his heartbreaking story about Ella’s mother, her death, and the adoption—that could be huge. She’d spin it as a redemption story, a young father doing the right thing for his daughter.
Her mind started churning out ideas for punchy one-liners: Real family shows up, even when it’s difficult. Even when it’s messy. Showing up is showing love. She could create videos about their home life, a whole series about blending a family, keeping a marriage strong while raising children, and getting through adversity together. People would eat it up.
But she couldn’t. Scott would never want that, and now that she knew the story of Ella’s mother’s death, she understood.
Her mind flipped to the two birth certificates, and on a whim, she opened Twitter—not her favorite social media platform, but one Scott never checked—and posted:
Looking for information on adoption. What happens to the original birth certificate when someone is adopted later? Does the adopted person get two birth certificates? TIA.
It only took a moment for her phone to start pinging with responses:
Rebekah Blair @BekahBlair
Replying to @InvincibleMollySullivan
I’m a social worker for an adoption agency. The original birth cert is sealed by the court. The adoptee is given a new birth certificate.
