She paused.
“It’s like being carried by a current. Going with the flow is effortless. Swimming against it takes effort I didn’t want to expend.”
“That’s honest.”
“At least I’m trying to be honest. You deserve that.”
Another pause.
“Can I tell you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’ve always been a little jealous of you.”
That made me laugh, a short, bitter sound.
“Jealous of what?”
“Of how capable you are. How independent. How you’ve built this impressive career and this life where you don’t need anyone.”
Her words came faster now.
“I know that sounds ridiculous, given everything you’ve just told me, but I’ve always felt like I was drowning while you were swimming. Like you had some internal compass I was missing.”
“Julia,” I said quietly, “I had to develop that compass because no one was navigating for me.”
“I know that now. But when we were growing up, I just felt inadequate in comparison. You got straight A’s without trying, won awards, got into top schools, and I was just this average kid who needed tutors and extra help and constant reassurance.”
Her voice dropped.
“So Mom gave me that reassurance.”
“She did.”
“And it felt good in the moment, but it also made me dependent. I’m 28, and I still call Mom before making any major decision. I can’t buy a couch without her opinion. Can’t plan a vacation without her input.”
Julia sighed.
“My husband pointed it out last month. Said I need to cut the umbilical cord. I got defensive, but he’s right.”
This conversation was veering into territory I hadn’t anticipated.
“What did Bradley say exactly?” I asked, curious now.
“We were furniture shopping for the nursery. I must have sent Mom 20 photos asking her opinion. Bradley finally said, ‘Can you make one decision without your mother’s approval?’ I snapped at him, said, ‘Mom just has good taste.’ He said, ‘Your sister has good taste too, and she furnishes entire houses without asking anyone’s permission.’”
“He mentioned me?”
“He brings you up sometimes,” she admitted. “Says he admires how self-sufficient you are, how you’ve built success without handholding.”
She sighed again.
“He’s right. And it makes me feel pathetic.”
“You’re not pathetic,” I said. “You’re just operating within a system that was set up for you before you were old enough to question it.”
“That’s generous.”
“It’s accurate. Mom made you dependent. But you’re an adult now. You can choose to be different.”
We sat in silence for a moment, both processing this unexpected turn.
“The house,” Julia said. “Can I see it sometime?”
“Maybe,” I said. “If things continue in this direction.”
