Three Wishes

by Liane Moriarty

It doesn’t really matter much what you do, because you have no control over your role in the amusing little anecdotes they’re already busy composing; if it suits them, they will rob you of even more dignity.

immaculately irritable

Gemma looked at the photo of her mother and the locksmith’s name reappeared right where she’d left it.

When Lyn was in her final year at university, she had a profound, almost religious experience: She read The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People.

“Oh, you’re so lucky!” people said of her success. Well, she wasn’t lucky. She was effective.

“principle-centered personal mission statement”

Just recently however, she’d noticed the tiniest, quickly suppressed blip of panic whenever she began a new list. She found herself thinking unproductive thoughts like, What if it was simply physically impossible to do everything? Sometimes it felt like all the people in her life were scavengers, pecking viciously away at her flesh, wanting more, more, more.

It was as if she were being picked up and put down again in each new stage of her life like a chess piece.

(How did they manage their relentless punctuality? You had to plan everything so far in advance! It was exhausting!)

No, the Kettle girls share no psychic connections. (A lot of the time they don’t even understand each other in ordinary verbal, sitting-across-the-table conversation.)

Her manners were so good they were like a putdown.

“Well, you’re a bit of a head case, aren’t you!” and that was exactly the sort of unsupportive reaction she needed.

She could do anything! If she could parallel park—she could take on the whole world!