THE NEXT DAY Marisol picks me up in her Jeep, and we go whale watching in Dana Point.

We’re sitting on a boat with a bunch of German tourists. The sky is damp and gray. She wraps her shawl around both of us. She talks about how lonely she’s been this week, too. I don’t bring up the money. I don’t ask the questions I really want to. Like, do you get it all at once? Are there bricks of money piled in some vault, or is it in stocks and bonds? Have you spent it on anything yet? Even with Marisol, there’s a dome of privacy around the subject of money. I’m not allowed to ask; I can just feel it. I need to have something private, too. So I don’t tell her what I need to tell her most, that I slept with Raj and am confused as hell about my feelings. Instead, I tell her about how I’m going back to Boston.

“Wait, why are you going back to Boston?”

“Because I’m broke? Because everything fell through? Because…oh, I don’t know…I don’t have a secret stash of millions of dollars that allows me to do whatever I want.”

Marisol grabs my arm, forcing me to look at her.

“This is the reason why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d push me away.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If we’re fortunate today, we may get a glimpse of a blue whale,” a tour guide booms over a loudspeaker. “Lucky for us, there have been sightings in the area in the past few weeks. A hundred feet in length, two hundred and ten tons, with a heart the size of a Volkswagen Bug, blue whales are thought to be the heaviest creatures to have ever existed.”

“You’re the one who thinks you’re not as good as people who have money, or people who get into college, or people who book commercials.”

“That’s so not true,” I say, my arms crossed, my hands curled in fists.

“Listen to me. All these college rejections have really messed with you. You think the world is a club that you can’t get into. But it’s bullshit. You’re looking for proof against yourself.”

“Aren’t you the psychologist.”

“No, I’m your friend. And friends tell the truth.” She blushes as she says this, realizing the irony. “You taught me that. I want my friend back, but that’s not going to happen until you let go of this stupid, fucked-up idea that you don’t deserve things.” I tear up. I do feel alone. I do feel deprived. She takes my hand. “You deserve everything, Becca. You’re incredible. A star.” I bow my head as tears streak down my face. “And you don’t have to feel alone ever again,” she says, wiping away her own tears. “Not if I can help it.”

She hugs me and I hug her back, clutching her sweater. She pulls out an antique handkerchief and dabs her eyes.

“I slept with Raj,” I blurt, “and then I just freaked out.”

“What?” She shakes me, smiling. “It’s about time. When?”

“Over to the port, or left side of the boat, you can see a friendly pod of dolphins frolicking,” the tour guide says. People rush to the left side of the boat, pulling out their cameras and binoculars. Marisol and I stay put.

“The night before I saw you. But then the very next day he cast that girl Sierra in his movie. Have you talked to him?”

“Of course I have. Since you haven’t been picking up your phone, he’s been knocking on my door asking if I’ve heard anything from you. I think you two just had a misunderstanding. It’s possible to not be right for a part, you know. I think that’s all that happened.”

“I freaked,” I say. “I just totally freaked out.”

The sun is out and even though seconds ago it was freezing, suddenly it’s hot.

“Folks, we have a blue whale!” the tour guide says. “She’s approaching from the starboard, or the right of the boat. The captain is going to turn off the motor and see if she’ll come to us.”

“You need to talk to him,” Marisol says. “Now, come on, let’s go see this whale.” We link arms and join the tourists. “Come back home. Please.”

“I’m trying to get my shit in order.”

Marisol doesn’t respond. She just takes my hand. Moments later, I see a spray of water. Then a massive gray back rises from the water, taking our collective and international breaths away. A giant tail appears, raining ocean water. We gasp, and Marisol kisses my hand.

“Look, look,” Marisol says, squealing.

“I know,” I say, as the whale breaches. “She’s like a miracle.”

“She is,” Marisol says, and rests her head on my shoulder.