With a vanilla ice cream iced coffee in her hand, she watched her nieces from a distance as they rolled across the grass in the back of the yard, hands held above their heads. They were laughing in a bubbly way, calling out alternately to their grandmother and their father. But not to her. The children had learned: You mustn’t disturb Eri while she’s having coffee. Besides, her head was already buzzing from all the children’s noise. She had actually retreated to the terrace to be alone with her thoughts for a while, which she hadn’t heard since morning due to the constant chatter of the two little girls and her brother’s booming laughter. As soon as the children saw their aunt in the garden, they didn’t need any more encouragement. Why is everyone so loud?
She could hardly wait for her mother to finally bring out the surprise cake. As if she didn’t know it was there next to the fridge, in a fancy box. Would there be a numbered candle on it or countless thin ones? No matter, as long as they finally got to it. Let this miserable chapter end, and let the new, much-anticipated one begin.
The first time had even been funny. She had gained a few pounds, not too many, just enough to be noticeable around her stomach. The cashier at the corner store had eagerly congratulated her on the upcoming baby. They both laughed. After all, why wouldn’t she have thought she was expecting? She and her husband were newlyweds; everyone “rightfully” expected them to have children. Back then, she too thought that maybe someday she would want it. But that desire never came. Quite the opposite. She felt truly liberated when the divorce was finalized. Even though she first had to move into a tiny place, she loved that there was no one around her. Only and exclusively when she wanted it. She could go where and when she pleased. And when she had had enough, she could retreat to her safe little nook. How she loved that tiny apartment! That was where she truly saw herself for the first time. It was there she understood that she wasn’t a social being. At least not in the way the world expected her to be.
At that particular wedding, when her aunt asked how she planned to have children “in time,” she got angry. She imagined headbutting the woman, who barely reached her chin, just to shut her up. From that point on, she endured twenty years of matchmaking advice and offers. For twenty years, she tolerated being periodically interrogated: Where’s the child? Why hadn’t she filled the world with babies yet? How many would she want anyway, if someone finally knocked her up? Yet, if she could help it, she stopped going to family gatherings. Relatives somehow feel entitled to poke around in other people’s private lives. To meddle in everything that’s none of their business. Because, after all, they’re family. And family feels they have official permission to harass you with questions that a decent person would never ask.
At least her brother left her alone. He never asked her to babysit the twins. Especially since she couldn’t really tell them apart. Only if they were standing side by side. One has a narrower face. If they aren’t together, how could she know which face it is? Without comparison, it’s impossible. She hadn’t told anyone her trick yet. It was simple: at the first moment of meeting them, she’d note what each of them was wearing. If she was having a hectic day and her mind was all over the place, she’d avoid using their names. Instead, she’d rely on tried-and-true nicknames: Smurfette, little one, bunny, sweetie… It’s been working for seven years.
Finally! The cake arrived. Fifty flaming candles. A beautiful, simple cake covered in orange marzipan with tiny white flowers. She blew them out slowly, savoring the moment. She closed her eyes. She didn’t need to make a wish anymore. While others dreamed of eternal youth, she had dreamed of finally being fifty. From now on, no one would ever ask her when she planned to have children. From today on, they would finally leave her alone and accept her for who she is.