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Sansa
“Nella, finally! I feel like I haven’t heard from you in forever,” I say cheerfully into the phone. I briskly switch the call to speaker and plop the device down on the vanity before me. I’m sitting at a large makeup table my dad made for me as a teenager, and it’s one of my most cherished possessions. The table is made of dark mahogany wood that sparkles brightly even without polish. Intricately carved moldings outline the large oval mirror extending from the back. Meanwhile, a small vanity lamp sits to my right, the goose-neck bent to help illuminate my face. After all, I have important matters to tend to – I have a date tonight and need to look flawless. Picking up a makeup brush, I continue dusting shimmery powder over my features.
“I know girl, I’m sorry. Things have been so crazy at our place. The little ones have been causing a ruckus,” my friend apologizes. I hear the kids kicking up a storm in the background even as Nella speaks, and my heart goes out to her. Life as a parent must be so exhausting because it’s an around-the-clock job. But I know Nella loves it, and adores being a mama. I can see the unconditional love on my friend’s face every single time she looks at one of her miraculous creations.
“Our little Claire has been dealing with some serious jealousy ever since Cassidy’s first birthday party last month,” my friend sighs. “We keep telling her that her birthday will come later this year and that then she’ll be the one getting a party and tons of toys instead of her sister, but she’s just too young to understand,” Nella vents.
“Oh, poor Claire. I’m sure she’ll get over it quickly. Something else will come along and distract her soon enough,” I suggest optimistically.
“Poor Claire?! Poor Mom!” Nella complains. Her voice grows more dramatic as she continues. “She’s been a nightmare. She’s doing whatever it takes to get her moment in the spotlight right now. And let me tell you, it makes no difference to our little girl whether the attention she’s getting is good or bad.” I giggle sympathetically at my friend’s situation, ready to remind Nella that sometimes the terrible twos don’t end at two. But before I can respond, I hear Cassidy begin to sob in the background. Nella’s voice grows louder as she speaks to her children in a firm yet loving tone.
“Claire, give your sister her toy back. We’ve talked about this already, and you need to play nice.” A minute later there’s a shuffling sound and Nella comes back on. “Sorry,” she apologizes. “Ugh, the girls were at it again.”
“No, no worries, but you weren’t kidding about it being hectic over there!” I exclaim in a wry tone.
“The wonders of parenting,” she sputters. “Lately, as you can tell, it’s been quite a challenge.”
But I have my own part to say too. “You’re luckier than you think, Nells. Many women would kill for what you have. A loving husband, two precious children, a luxurious penthouse…” my voice trails off as I picture a similar future for myself. I would love to meet the man of my dreams and settle down. But at this point, it seems like a pretty far-fetched idea for me. I haven’t met a guy I would even consider starting a life with in a very, very long time, and I’m not exactly young anymore. At least, twenty-seven doesn’t feel young, although my granny tells me that twenty-seven is nothing.
“Oh, I know. I’m grateful, I really am,” Nella reassures me. “I’m lucky to have Paul and the kids, but sometimes …”
“Well, you’ve come a long way since your City Girls days,” I say while I continue prepping myself in the mirror for my date. “Do you ever miss it?”
Nella laughs at the mention of our escort agency and shakes her head. “No, why? I have a husband now! Are you trying to say something, Sansa?”
I pause for a moment. The truth is, I’ve been giving my job a lot of thought recently. I’ve been working for the escort agency for a couple of years now, and it’s a great way to pay the bills, but it isn’t much else, to be honest. In the beginning, I was dazzled by the fancy meals, the handsome men in suits, and the fact that I made money just by going out on dates. But now, it’s gotten a bit old. Maybe it’s the fact that at twenty-seven I am old, at least by industry standards. After all, a lot of guys request girls twenty-five or less, so my bookings have trickled off quite a bit.
“I guess I’ve just come a long way,” I say ruefully. “The lifestyle is wearing on me, as it does for anyone in this business.”
