‘Do you think you’re halfway? Are the mid-thirties halfway? Do you think you’re only going to live to seventy? My dad is seventy!’

My mother says, ‘Thirty-five is just the beginning. You’re not even remotely menopausal.’

Nicolette and I share a look.

NEWS ITEM

It has recently been discovered that killer whales, one of three types of mammal, including humans, to have a menopause, have this menopause due to a complicated relationship between mothers and daughters. Beyond their fertile years, older females play a crucial role in the life of the group. Grandmothers help improve survival in larger matriarchal groups because they often find and share food resources communally. A pod of killer whales is made up of multiple family units, known as matrilines, which travel together. During the prolonged post-reproductive life of humans and toothed whales, a wish to avoid conflict has pushed them to abandon fertility.

NICOLETTE SAYS

‘Apparently, social media is worse for women.’

‘Is that right?’ my mother says.

‘Yep.’ Nicolette taps her head. ‘The amygdala in your brain processes emotional learning, fear and memory. They tested a bunch of men and women and found that the women became depressed when they were presented with the same negative stimuli over and over. Men could blank the familiar stuff out and only responded to the new stuff – terrorist attacks, stuff like that. But the women reacted to the familiar stuff. It chipped away. They got anxious and depressed. And yet here we are, partaking. Perpetuating.’

‘Why?’ I say. ‘Let’s stop and ask that.’

‘I keep telling you to!’ says my mother.

‘Well it’s part of my process, I think. Going round and round. I can allow myself a few more months. My therapist told me,’ Nicolette says.

‘What process?’

‘Our process. You know. Our thing. I told my therapist all about you.’

‘Right.’ Sometimes I think about how many therapists in the world know about me and I feel sick with fame. ‘What did you tell her?’

‘That we are similar. That we are … playmates.’

I wait for more, but Nicolette just looks at me blankly.

‘Playmates?’

‘We know how to distract ourselves while we process what we’re processing.’

‘You mean like the world and meaning and … stuff like that?’

Nicolette looks at me. Her lip curls in a way that doesn’t look particularly controlled. ‘Yeah, but the underlying thing too. We’re comforting ourselves, aren’t we, you and I. We’re living in repeats and circles because they’re reassuring. That there’ll be no surprises. No more hurt.’

My mother has her head at an uncomfortable-looking angle and is hanging on Nicolette’s every word. She looks at me when Nicolette stops talking.

‘Mother,’ I say, shaking my empty glass, ‘I think we need a refill, if you don’t mind.’

She reluctantly takes our glasses and leaves the room.

I look at Nicolette. She turns her body towards me and tilts her head to one side.