Two days later, my mother called.
I had expected it.
I simply had not expected her to sound so anxious.
“Mia,” she said the moment I answered, “is it true? Did you really resign?”
“Yes.”
There was a sharp inhale on the other end.
“How could you make such a big decision without discussing it with me first?”
I looked at the half-packed suitcase on the floor.
Inside were three sweaters, two pairs of trousers, a thick coat, and a scarf I had bought for myself that morning.
Soft cashmere.
Warm grey.
No memories stitched into it.
“It was my decision,” I said.
“Your decision?” My mother’s voice rose. “Do you know how hard it is to find a good job now? Yale Group treated us so well. Charles treated you well too. You two grew up together. How could you leave like this?”
I closed my ey
