“Berlin? I’m envious. Are you visiting the Christmas markets?”
Erica glanced back toward the window, wondering if that was what was happening in the square below. “Of course I’m not visiting the Christmas markets. This is me you’re talking to. I’m working. There’s a conference. Also, it’s November.”
“Christmas markets are often open in November. You could sneak out, surely.”
How could two people who were so different be such good friends?
“I could sneak out, but why would I?”
“To enjoy yourself? To get in the Christmas mood? Any of those things ringing bells? No, I guess not. Never mind. Claudia and I have long since given up trying to fill you with festive joy. So if you’re not calling to make me jealous with talk of gingerbread and handmade crafts, why are you calling?”
“I’m calling because I’ve found the perfect place.” She sat back down on the bed and stared at her laptop screen. It wasn’t a lie. It was the perfect place.
“Perfect place for what?” Anna’s voice was suddenly muffled. “Hold on—”
Erica winced as a loud crash came down her headphones. “What’s that noise? Do you have intruders in the house?”
“Do my kids count as intruders?” Anna sounded distracted, as if Erica’s call was just one of ten things she was doing simultaneously. “If so, then yes—wait a second, Erica, you’ve called at crazy hour.”
Was there a moment in Anna’s household that wasn’t crazy hour? It seemed to Erica that whenever she called, her friend was neck-deep in something. Supporting with homework, supervising music practice, washing sports kits, cooking dinners, making packed lunches. Her friend was basically a one-woman room service.
She heard laughter down the phone and then Anna’s voice, slightly distant.
That’s brilliant. So funny, Meg. I love it. But just because you’re a talented artist doesn’t mean you’re allowed to leave your bowl on top of the dishwasher! I know your father does it. That doesn’t mean you have permission to do it. Now go—I’m catching up with Erica.
Conversations with Anna were always the same—noisy and disjointed, punctuated by a background of family activity and interruptions. Part of her found it frustrating—how did Anna stand it?—but another part of her was grateful for moments like this because they made her feel better about her life decisions. Not that she often questioned herself, but occasionally she did. To be in Anna’s house was to be engulfed by warmth, wrapped and supported by those closely intertwined threads of family love. It made Erica feel unsettled. It made her question decisions she didn’t want to question. It made her wonder if she’d made all the wrong choices.
But she knew she hadn’t. Everyone thought that having a family was the best thing. But was it, really? Would she want what Anna had?
No, she would not. Yes, there were occasions when she envied her friend her warm, stable family and at other times—and this was one of them—she was grateful for her independent, uninterrupted single life where her only real responsibility was to herself.
She felt a pleasurable rush of anticipation as she contemplated the afternoon and evening ahead. After this call she’d do the work she needed to do, then she’d be heading to the hotel spa for an indulgent massage before dining alone at the table with the best view in the restaurant.
She didn’t have to cook her own meal—someone would do it for her. She didn’t have to launder clothes—the hotel would do that, and return them perfectly pressed. She didn’t have to worry about loading the dishwasher. And as for being alone—well, alone didn’t worry her. She’d been alone for most of her life. She knew that some people pitied her, and their sympathy made her smile because they had no idea just how good alone could feel.
In her case it was a choice, not a curse. Right now, listening to her friend trying to extract herself from domestic demands, it felt like the best possible choice.
In her life she was her number-one priority and for that she had no intention of apologizing.
“Are you still there?” Anna was breathless. “Sorry about that.”
“Bad time?” She said it lightly. “Shall I call back?”
“No! It’s been ages since we talked. I really want to catch up. But Meg just drew this brilliant cartoon—I’ll send it to you. Oh, wait a minute—Meg, don’t forget your art project!”
Erica sighed. She probably had time to check over her presentation while she waited. Or maybe even write a novel. And why was Anna reminding Meg not to forget her art project?
She knew nothing about raising children, but she did know that encouraging dependence helped no one. Her mother had never reminded her about anything. If Erica forgot something then she was expected to take the consequences, and if those consequences were harsh then it would serve as a reminder not to forget next time.
Erica’s father had walked out on them when she was born, apparently after seeing Erica for the first time—she tried not to take it personally. He’d left Erica’s mother with heartache, a baby, and a bundle of stress and anxiety. Although she had no memory of him, Erica had, over the years, witnessed the impact of his behavior. She’d watched her mother struggle, and understood and admired her determination to never again rely on anyone.
She also understood that her mother’s experience had impacted the way she’d raised Erica. She’d insisted that Erica do everything herself, from homework to tying her shoelaces. If she fell over, then she had to figure out a way to get up again. Her mother refused to pick her up. If she failed an exam, then her mother told her to work harder. If Erica had a problem, then it was up to her to find a solution. Her mother never solved anything for her.
And it seemed like a good upbringing to Erica. After all, she’d turned out just fine, hadn’t she? Thanks to a powerful work ethic, she was financially independent. She didn’t have to clear up after anyone, or share the controls of her wickedly indulgent media system. There were no fights about laundry or homework. No putting herself last as women with children so often did. She didn’t expect anyone to do anything for her. And she didn’t need a man to make her life complete. She’d seen her mother work herself to the point of burnout to compensate for her father’s deficiencies. She’d played the role of both parents, thus proving to Erica that men were like candy. Fine as an occasional treat, but not necessary for survival.
Thinking how right her life was made her wonder why she was about to do something that felt so wrong.
“Anna?”
“I’m still here! Don’t hang up.” Anna’s voice was barely audible above the sound of running water and multiple conversations. “Do not feed that to the dog or our next trip will be to the vet! Wait a moment. I’m going to lock myself in Pete’s study.”