Remy
REMY
Me
You’re in Amsterdam?!
Lin
Yeah, for a couple of days. We have an office over here.
Me
Why didn’t you tell me?
Lin
Lol, so you could jump on a quick flight?
Me
Of course not!
I’d take the train.
A sixty-pound return ticket and four hours on the Eurostar later, I’m in Amsterdam.
There’s a spring in my step as I walk, almost jog, up to a brunch place called Staring at Jacob.
I spot her as soon as I’m through the door and almost knock her over when I crash into her.
Everyone turns to stare, but Lin only laughs.
“So dramatic,” she says, but I feel her hug me tighter as she smells my jacket.
Although the dark undereye circles are still present and her bangs aren’t colored this month, it’s Lin, and as we sit down, she has a big smile on her face. I point to it.
“What’s that about? Good news at work?”
“No, nothing new there,” she says. “I’m just happy to see you.”
I can’t help but add, “You almost didn’t! If I hadn’t been on Instagram, I wouldn’t have seen your pictures.”
“I know.” Lin at least has the decency to look sheepish. Despite the fact that, as soon as I found out she was nearby, I was throwing things into a backpack, I did feel a little stung. If I hadn’t said anything, she would have come and gone.
“I just didn’t think you’d be willing, or able, to come and meet me,” Lin says, “and I didn’t want to risk finding out, to be honest. Nov was the first to see my Insta stories, and when she didn’t say anything, I don’t know, I thought you’d feel the same, and I obviously wasn’t going to ask our new baby mama.
Plus, I’m sure I’ll be back in London for another visit soon. ”
I let it go because we only have three hours together, and we order our food: banana bread French toast with berries, black sesame, and maple syrup, and feta scrambled eggs with avocado on sourdough with smoked butter, to share.
Suddenly Lin says, “You called me at two AM that time to say something, but then decided not to. What was it?”
I forget these things about Lin—that her memory, gut-feeling success rate, and astute nature aren’t traits she limits to her job.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Why?”
I don’t answer.
“You were going to tell me something,” Lin continues, “but you saw me in that… state, and decided not to ‘bother me’ with it. Am I right?”
Lin’s the busy one, constantly and often deftly juggling multiple things at once, so we’re never offended when she forgets something about us every now and again. Yet, across the pond and through a phone screen, Lin could read me like a book.
“How did you know you didn’t want to be a mum?” I ask her.
She leans back in her booth to consider me.
“You’ve never asked me that directly before.
” Her eyes briefly flash to my stomach, and I take my hand off my jumper.
She nods to herself, having silently agreed upon something, and says, “The simplest way I can put it is, you know how Melissa was so sure she was going to be a mum? That no matter what anyone told her, she would make it happen? I feel the exact opposite. For me, I don’t need to go into the money, sleep, time, or environmental side of things; I just picture what my life is like without children and it’s still bursting at the seams.” She shrugs, folding eggs onto her toast. “Nothing is missing,” she says, “so why add what you don’t need?
I’m the eldest daughter of five siblings; I’ve already been a parent, and I’m not going back. ”
This isn’t Lin exaggerating. Lin’s parents worked a lot of hours; she didn’t grow up with money like Melissa did or have extra familial support like Nova and me.
Often, Lin got her siblings ready for school, went to school herself after dropping them off, then picked her brothers and sisters up from school, fed them, helped with their homework, did her own, took them out on the weekends, talked about boyfriends and girlfriends, wiped their tears and rubbed their backs, told them off and grounded them.
If that’s not explanatory enough, Lin’s youngest sister has their mum’s number saved on her phone under Mum and Lin’s number saved under Mummy .
“You’re not worried you’ll regret it?” I ask her.
“If I don’t have children and regret it, at least that regret only weighs on me,” she answers.
“If I have children and regret it, that regret also weighs on a child who doesn’t deserve it.
Even if I managed to hide it well, I know it would come out in different ways.
I’m only human, and I can’t pretend being a mother will make me perfect; in fact, I’m pretty sure it has the potential to bring out the worst in me.
Why not leave having children to the people who are secure in their decision?
It’s not like the earth is running low.”
I nod. All good points, and I expected nothing less.
“Now. Do you want me to ask why you’re asking me that?” Lin tilts her head so that her hair falls off her shoulder and strands wink at me under the sunlight pouring in through the window.
I wonder where I’ll be when her dark strands turn gray, when the soft crinkles at the corner of her eyes are solidified crow’s-feet, because she’d never get rid of them. Whether I’ll have a front-row seat to the changes or be regulated to the restricted view at the back.
“I’m pregnant.”
Lin nods, as if I’ve answered a suspicion. “And, if you’re happy to talk about it, how did that happen? Besides the obvious mechanics.”
Our food grows cold while I tell her everything. The loneliness, Ishir, my pregnancy dream, finding out for real at the hospital, and the decision I’m trying to make.
After a dramatic pause, Lin says, “Dickhead.”
“Me?”
“No, that Ishir guy,” Lin says, grimacing. Then she leans forward. “I can find him. Want me to find him?”
I chew my lip. “By legal means?”
Lin holds her hands up. “I promise you won’t be implicated.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I think it does.”
Lin’s always joked that being a lawyer is sometimes a lot like how it is on TV.
She often references Suits or How to Get Away with Murder , TV shows that allude to the idea that some lawyers are just criminals that haven’t been caught yet.
Take Annalise Keating, an incredibly successful and respected lawyer who just happens to have several shady contacts.
Contacts she uses to get illegally obtained information that she can then use for her own benefit. She will do anything for her client.
I have no doubt that Lin is well on her way to becoming Annalise Keating.
Lin takes my silence as a yes and says, “I’m on it.” After tapping something on her phone, she adds, “You know who you are, Rem? You’re Carrie.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Not again with the Sex and the City reference! You know I haven’t watched that show.”
“You’d be Charlotte if Melissa wasn’t such a Charlotte,” Lin continues regardless. “Nov’s Samantha, obviously; I’m Miranda—that goes without saying. Making you Carrie.”
“By default? Apart from being writers, what else do we have in common?”
Lin sips her drink as she thinks. “Both hopeless romantics.”
“Only with my friends.”
“No, with other things, too. You are a romantic in everything you do, including being a mum.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“You want things as close to perfect as possible or not at all. Keeping this kid seems dependent on some vision you have in your mind of reliable support and unlimited money, time, energy, and mental capacity. You want a rose-tinted journey. Ninety-nine percent of mothers don’t have all of that.
I get you want to be the perfect mum, but perfect adults don’t exist.” She catches the look on my face.
“Hey, nothing wrong with being a dreamer, I mean, shit, it got you this far, but you’ve got to balance it out where it matters. How far along are you?”
“Fifteen weeks.”
“You can’t terminate a pregnancy after twenty-four weeks, which means you still have time to think about it, to slowly consider it. You’ll arrive at the best decision, I know you will.”
I don’t know how it’s possible but these few words from Lin melt the tension stinging my shoulders, and it’s a reminder of her ability to casually defuse a situation. In a crisis, Nova explodes, and Melissa runs toward answers and solutions. Lin slows down time.
“I love you, Lin.”
“I know you do.” She smiles, knowing that’s still my favorite response.