She arrives early. Stays when she’s needed. Doesn’t complain. Says, ‘Of course.’ Her colleagues call her reliable. Her clients say she’s easy to work with. The man she used to date told her, ‘You’re always so easy to be with.’
Luca isn’t sure whether that’s a compliment.
The walls of her new flat are freshly painted. A tiny crack in the handle of her mug. The coffee she hasn’t drunk. One September morning, nothing dramatic happens. Luca simply sits down on the floor and realises she no longer knows what she would want if there were no one else to consider. She hasn’t known for a long time.
Moving hasn’t solved it. New walls, the same silence.
But the journey comes at a price. Luca must let go of everything she has relied on to meet other people’s expectations: the role she has played for years, the version of herself that others loved, and the security of knowing who she is.
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, they say. Luca’s first step was to stop.
If you’ve ever set out, only to find yourself back where you started, if you’ve ever felt unable to say no, if you’ve ever woken up to find you’re living someone else’s life,
this book is for you.
Discover Luca’s story
Three excerpts, three moments in Luca’s life. Read on, get to know her thoughts, and see whether you recognise something of your own life in hers.
At the end of the book, you’ll also find questions for self-reflection. They invite you to turn your attention towards yourself after reading the story: to reflect on your own choices and relationships, and on what you would like to change.
The Unsent Message
Her phone. She picked it up, put it down. Picked it up again.
There was a message she had written last night but had not sent. To her friend, though, if she was honest with herself, the word friend sounded strange now. An old acquaintance. Someone she had once laughed with a great deal, but for the past two years they had only written to each other on name days and at Christmas. The message read: “Hi, how are you?” Four words. She had written them. Still, she had not pressed send.
Because what would happen next? If the other woman wrote back that she was well, everything was fine, what would Luca say? If she asked in return, how are you, what could Luca answer? The truth? That would not fit into four words. The usual reply? That would be a lie. Better not to send it.
But the message was there. Unfinished, waiting, like so many other unfinished things in her life.
Her Spine Has an Opinion Too
The second time, she was supposed to bend at the waist.
The woman on the screen asked her to lower herself slowly and feel the stretch along her back.
Luca bent forward.
Her spine offered a firm opinion, and not a pleasant one. Somewhere below her shoulder blades, it reminded her that she had done very little bending at the waist in the past ten years, and it had not forgotten, even if Luca had. After a decade of desk work, her flexibility felt like a spare metal fitting left over after assembling a piece of furniture: clearly meant to belong somewhere, yet impossible to fit.
“Lovely,” the woman said encouragingly from the screen, her torso effortlessly parallel to the floor.
Lovely, Luca repeated in her head, curled up, half crouching and half standing.
The woman went on, asking the viewer to be patient with herself. The body learns, she said. Everyone at their own pace.
Still folded somewhere between a crouch and a bow, Luca muttered, “All right,” and tried not to resent her spine. This proved harder than expected. Her spine was not the enemy; she was the one who had kept it at a desk for a decade and now expected it to fold on command. She knew the injustice of this and remained mildly annoyed.
Nothing Had Exploded
“Luca, love,” she said on the phone, getting straight to the point, “you’re so good at organising. I could do with some help for my birthday, nothing big, just a few things to coordinate, but you know what I’m like.”
Luca listened and knew, without argument, that she could not—not now. The week was already full. One more commitment would not be kindness, but self-injury wearing kindness’s clothes.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice calmer than she had expected, “but I really can’t at the moment. If my help would still be useful next week, let me know.”
A brief pause.
“No problem,” she replied easily, the way people say it when there really is no problem. “I’ll see. Perhaps it’ll work out.”
She rang off.
Luca held the phone a moment longer, aware of something she could not immediately name. Then she understood: lightness. Not the moral relief of having done the correct thing, but a bodily ease—the lungs opening into a full breath.
Nothing had exploded. The world was just as it had been a minute before. Only something inside Luca had changed. A small but lasting shift, as though something had fallen into place.
Read Luca’s story
LUCA: The Thousand-Mile Journey A novel by Georgina Kovacs
Available as an English-language ebook. Choose your preferred store to view the book and purchase your copy.
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