Chapter 17
I looked across the dark lake. “What would I build if I wasn't building in reaction to anyone else?”
“Yes.” “I don't know.” “Me neither.”
That surprised me. Mara seemed like someone who always knew. She had a stable job. Good friends. A carefully organized calendar. She ran half-marathons voluntarily, a fact I considered evidence of poor judgment but impressive discipline.
“You don't?” “No.” “What about your career?”
She pulled her blanket tighter. “I've been thinking about leaving.”
I turned toward her. “What?”
“There was a promotion last year.” “You got it.” “I did.” “You were happy.” “I was proud.” “Difference?” She looked at me. “Yes.”
I waited.
“I've spent years being the dependable one.”
That sentence landed softly. She wasn't accusing me. She didn't need to. After Dad became sick, Mara had handled appointments. When Mom struggled afterward, Mara visited every Thursday. When my marriage deteriorated, Mara became the emergency contact. Dependable. Always.
“I didn't realize.” “I know.” “Why didn't you tell me?” “You had enough.” “That doesn't mean—” “I know.” She looked toward the lake. “But I also liked being needed. That's the uncomfortable part.”
I understood that more than she expected.
Mara continued. “Then six months ago, my company offered me another promotion. More money. More responsibility. And my first thought was, 'Mom will be proud. Anna will know I'm okay.'”
“What was your second thought?” “I don't want it.”
The lake moved quietly against the dock.
May you like
“What do you want?” “I don't know.” “Maybe that's your answer.” “What?” “To Ruth's question.”
Mara smiled faintly. “Build enough space to find out?” “Yes.” She considered it. “That's annoyingly profound too.” “I inherited it from Ruth.”
