Page 24

‘One of your favorite people, this Wanda…’

Corrie sighs, none of us taking our seats at the dining table yet. ‘I should be grateful for all my blessings. And I am, I really am. But this woman is just mean to me for no reason.’

‘I’m pretty sure the reason is that she wishes she were you.’

She chuckles in disbelief. ‘A single, overtired mom, struggling to make ends meet?’

I send her a disapproving look for undervaluing herself. ‘A strong, stunning woman, who is taking care of her kids and does great at tackling the hurdles life puts her way.’

She brings her palms to flank her cheeks, looking at me bashfully. Her attire is casual, but she would look stunning in anything. Or, even better, in nothing. But I forbid myself to go further down that road. Since I arrived, since the moment she stood in front of me yesterday, my heart has been doing somersaults and my sneaky mind is totally unravelled by wishful thoughts that would make Corrie blush.

‘If you put it like that…’

‘I do. What are the other two wishes? The genie has granted you two more.’

‘For Otto and Ada to be healthy and have stability and happiness.’

‘That would be one of mine, too,’ I admit, hastening to add, ‘Had I had kids of course. And the third?’

She peruses my body, as if I’m part of the wish, but then suddenly closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and shakes her head. ‘That one’s a secret, I guess it’s…Hey, do you want to see the kids? It’s only a few hours till you come back, and then they’ll be wide awake, but…’

‘I’d love to!’

I pretend to not notice how she deflects, because I truly want to see the little guys, even asleep. Corrie leads the way back to the corridor that the bedrooms open onto, and she pushes the door with the wooden puppet-shaped letters spelling their names. We enter a room with bunkbeds, the top one space-themed, with stickers of cars and robots on the wall; the bottom one all glitter, unicorns and princesses. I know her children aren’t babies anymore, don’t have that delicious scent of baby powder, but I swear I can detect it. In a blink of an eye, I go back to the first time I held those tiny humans, when I’d visit them daily, and watched them grow stronger and change before my eyes.

There’s a night-light in a blob-like form on a shelf, illuminating the peaceful, fast-asleep faces, the way each of them sleeps just like their personalities. On the top bed, Otto seems to not have moved since the moment he was tucked in. Ada’s body is half-hanging out of the bottom bed, the covers pushed to the side, curly hair fanned around her head.

‘My wild girl.’ Corrie lifts Ada and covers her with a Disney Princess blanket.

I’m immersed in a sea of serenity, wishing I could spend most of my nights like that: tucking two kids to sleep, watching them drift off, working to make their dreams happy. And then tuck their mom in, and take us on a trip to a whole different dreamland.

Otto lets out a small cough and stirs. Corrie caresses his hair, then turns to me, in a Shall we? unspoken question, so we go back to the living room. Before we sit at the dining table, she grabs the bottle and the shots, then heads for the couch facing the sliding French doors to the garden, where a few lanterns pierce the darkness, illuminating the shrubbery. She leaves the liquor and glassware, then takes a seat on the one side of the couch, inviting me to occupy the other. She fills our shots, then folds her leg on the couch and turns to face me.

‘They were so serene.’ I urge myself to look away from the glass, its dark surface mirroring a domestic scene of two partners about to decompress by discussing their day.

Corrie hums. ‘To quote Lola, you can genuinely appreciate having a kid when they go to bed and are fast asleep.’

I snigger. ‘Does her son give her such a hard time?’

‘Not really, but some days, you’re extra tired, with rapidly dwindling patience, and motherhood feels heavy.’

I lift my glass in salute. ‘You’re handling it pretty well.’

‘By well, you mean those tearful calls that definitely tested our friendship?’

‘Nothing was or will ever be tested. I’m here for you, and you can call me any time.’

She sends me a tilted smile. ‘Until I interrupt something and you reconsider the offer.’

My laugh is to stop me from telling her that she can’t interrupt something that doesn’t exist. I won’t pretend I’m a monk, but since last year, between excessively travelling for concerts and a new album—and the ensuing interviews, courtesy of Aaron—my time for any sort of fun has been limited to zero. I was tempted to mention to Gwen how I’ve been all work and no play, see the host’s and the audience’s priceless reaction. Been there, done that. I’ve had my share of hookups, situationships, sort-of relationships. Once I even almost got married in the most stereotypical, tacky setup: drunk in Vegas. All this to convince myself that there are ways to have a life where Corrie will be just my friend.

Until I think of her going on a date. Not like the one she was talked into yesterday; actually dating and being with another guy. And then my skin shrinks around me like a boa constrictor, and breathing is something I have to remind myself of. Plus, where I live and where she does. Most importantly, how my frenzy of a life doesn’t exactly offer stability for the kids. And the roller coaster starts again.

‘Are you reconsidering already?’ Corrie’s foot nudges my thigh, waking up the thoughts I’ve been struggling to keep chaste. She has put her legs up on the couch, her eyes half mast, and a yawn is added for effect. ‘I’ll fall asleep if you don’t keep talking.’

‘Why don’t I let you go to bed? We’ll meet again in just a few hours.’

Her head swivels from side to side. ‘I like having you here. It’s not the same when we video call…’