A Life That Isnt Mine
Katie switched on her phone and almost hurled it at the wall.
There, basked in the glow of a scarlet sunset, stood skinny, tanned Mary, clutching a cocktail!
In a swimsuit that cost as much as Katies monthly budget!
And beneath the picture, the caption finished her off: Happiness exists. Its wherever you are.
Cow, Katie muttered under her breath, setting the phone aside.
The kettle whistled in the kitchen. From the lounge, a stampede roaredher twins, Paul and Archie, had declared war on each other again.
Her husband, Richard, sat in the living room, eyes glued to the football and feigning an existence in some other realm where there were no children, no mortgage, and certainly no Katie.
Rich, would you get the boys, please! Katie shouted.
Yeah, alright, drifted a half-hearted reply.
No one moved, of course.
Katie sighed, poured herself some tea, and sat at a table littered with yesterdays dried porridge, a mystery pair of socks (whose socks? For heavens sake, whose?), and scattered markers. She glanced around and nearly howled.
She was thirty-five. She had two kids. A husband with a steady job and a steady salary who, after work, collapsed face-first to the wall. They had a flat with a mortgage theyd be paying off until they retired. She had what everyone called a regular life. Like everyone else.
And Maryshe had sunsets.
Mary was her best friend from school. Theyd been inseparable since Year Seven, sharing desks, lip gloss, and heartbreaks. But then life took them different ways.
Mary never married, never had children. She worked as a designer, rented a flat in the city centre, and every month she was off somewhere new. Thailand one time, Turkey the next, once even the Maldives.
Katie scrolled through her feed, feeling a simmering angeror more honestly, envybubble up inside.
Why does she get everything, and I get nothing?!
But she wasnt a bad person. She was a good wife and mum. She got up at six, made porridge, got the kids to nursery, dashed off to work, lugged shopping bags home, checked homework, and collapsed into bed, exhausted. And in the morning, it all began again.
For what? So one day, fifteen years from now, shed see another sunset in Marys feed and think, And where was I? What did I do? Boiled porridge! Thats what.
Mum, he hit me! Paul burst into the kitchen, bawling.
Why?
I dont know!
Yes you do! Archie charged in, flinging a toy car at his brother.
It hit Katie square in the forehead.
She closed her eyes, counted to ten, and opened them.
Both of youto your room. Now. I dont want to see you.
Mum, oh Mum
Now!
The boys vanished.
Katie pressed her hand to her head, staring at nothing. Her thoughts whirled: Mary. Cow. Happy. Envy. Sin. Who cares.
***
A week later, Mary was home.
It was rareonly once a yearbut Katie always knew. Mary would ring up and say, Im in town, lets meet. And Katie would drop everything, dash across the whole city, just to sit in a café and hear of someone elses wonderful life.
This time, they met at Caffè Nero. Mary was already at a table, head down in her phone. Katie joined her. The first thing she noticedMary was thinner. So much so that her cheekbones jutted out, her eyes looked huge.
Hi, Katie kissed her friend and sat opposite. You look… so skinny.
Oh, Mary waved it off. On a diet.
What diet? Youre a twig already.
Well, you know, after thirty, things dont work the same. Mary managed a smile, but it didnt reach her eyes.
They ordered coffee. Mary talked about Thailand, the ocean, island-hopping with friends.
Katie nodded, but burned inside.
Listen, she interrupted suddenly. Dont you ever get lonely?
Mary froze, cup at her lips.
What do you mean?
I mean, youre alone. Always alone. Travelling on your own, living on your own, sleeping on your own. Dont you sometimes…want a family? Someone nearby?
Mary lowered her cup. She looked at Katie for a long moment.
Katie, do you really want to know?
I do.
You know what I want? Mary leaned forward. I want to come homeand someones there. Not a cat. Not a friend who pops in for an hour. Someone who says, Whereve you been? Ive been worried. I want to be waited for. I want to matternot because Im fun or exciting, but just because I exist.
Katie was taken aback.
But youyou have it all. Travel, freedom, money…
Katie, Mary laughed. Dont you think I see how you look at me? I know what you think: Lucky her, living the dream. But when I look at you, I think: She has a home. Not a poky studio flat that smells of bleach and city airan actual home, with the smell of baking, with childrens footsteps, with a husband snoring on the sofa. Do you even see what you have?
Katie stayed silent.
Last year, I ended up in hospital, Mary said suddenly. Appendicitis. Removed, all fine, but I had to stay in. And there was no onenot a soul to even fetch a glass of water. I called friends, but they had jobs, kids, their own lives. I paid a strangera carer. Shed ask me: Dont you have family? Anyone? And Id say: No. No one. At all.
She turned to the window. Katie watched her profilesharp cheekbones, dark circlesand, with a shock, realised: she looks old. We all do. But Marys aged alone, in an empty flat.
Mary, Im sorry, Katie whispered. I had no idea.
How could you? Your world is normal. Youve got a reason to get up each morning.
You think I wake up happy? Katie scoffed. I wake up, Im already solving problems: wheres the money for the mortgage, why is Richard silent again, how do I pick up the kids if Im at work until seven? Sometimes I feel like Im running a never-ending marathon.
Want to swap? Mary grinned. You take my sunsets, Ill have your boys.
Katie imagined waking up in Thailand. Alone. On the beach. No one yelling, or begging for porridge, or lobbing cars. Empty. Breathless.
No, she said firmly. I dont want to.
There you go, Mary sighed. Each to their own.
***
They stayed in the café till evening.
They talked nonsense, reminisced about school, shared a laugh. And when it was time to part, Mary hugged Katie tightly and whispered:
Hug those boys of yours. Every day. Theyll grow up and leave, and youll remember when they threw toys at each other.
Daft old thing, Katie sniffed. You need to come round more often. Ill bake something special.
I will.
***
Home greeted Katie with its usual chaos.
In the hallway, boots, coats, backpacks cluttered the floor. From the lounge: Why did you take my car! In the kitchen, the light was on and Richard stood stirring something on the hob.
Oh, youre home, he called, glancing back. I did pasta. Kids are starving. You want some?
Katie looked at him. At his faded t-shirt, his ever-growing bald patch, his tired eyes. And she suddenly realised: hes running too. Working, hauling, enduring. Never complains.
I do, she replied.
She kicked off her shoes and walked into the lounge. Paul and Archie were on the rug, locked in a toy car skirmish. When they saw her, both yelled at once:
Mum, hes not sharing!
Oi, enough! Katie barked, but with no real anger. Go wash up. Dinner now.
Half an hour later, they all sat in the kitchen: Katie, Richard, the twins. Eating pasta with sausages. Paul kicked his feet and managed to drip ketchup on the cloth. Archie built a tower out of pasta. Richard watched the news on his phone.
An ordinary evening. An ordinary family. An ordinary life.
Katie watched them, and suddenly thought: But I am happy. Probably
She thought of Mary. Marys empty flat. Marys paid carer. Marys sunsets with no one to show them to.
Rich, she said.
Yeah?
Lets go to the park on Saturday. With the kids.
The park? he was surprised. Why?
No reason. Just because.
He stared at her for a moment, but said nothing. Just nodded
***
A month later, Mary messaged: Im in Turkey. Sea, palm trees, all perfect. Lots of love.
Katie opened the photo. Mary on a yacht, hair flying in the wind, sunset behind her. Beautiful.
She put the phone away and set about getting the boys ready for nursery. Paul couldnt find his second sock again. Archie threw a tantrum, wanting breakfast right now.
Mum, when are we going to the park again? Paul called, crawling out from under the bed, sock in hand.
Saturday, promised Katie. Scouts honour.
And she realised, she was looking forward to Saturday too. Like it was a holiday.
