But not today.
She tried calling again, and this time considered leaving a message, but decided against it. What would she say?Hey, it’s Erica and I need you to stop me doing something I’m going to regret. Claudia had enough problems of her own.
She called Anna instead.
Her friend answered almost immediately.
“Erica! I didn’t expect to hear from you today. I thought you were traveling.” There was a clatter in the background. “How does it feel to be forty? Is it any different? I’m not sure whether I should be dreading the day or not. Will I need a therapist? I can’t wait to get together so I can celebrate with you.”
Erica waited until her friend paused to take a breath. “Forty feels no different from thirty-nine.” That wasn’t quite true, but she didn’t intend to dwell on it. “Thanks for your birthday message. Your singing is still awful, by the way. Took me right back to college and having to use earphones whenever you took a shower.”
“Pete would sympathize with you,but Ilovesinging so I’m not going to stop for anyone. So what’s wrong? Tell me.”
“Why would anything be wrong?”
“Because you don’t normally call me at breakfast time,” Anna said. “You’re usually in a meeting.”
“I’m in Berlin. It’s lunchtime.”
“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. Itwasthe 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.
