Hey, Emily! Sorry to ring you at this hour, but Ive got terrible newsmy wife was killed in a crash last night Can you let me in? Simon was halfdrunk, slurring his words.
I felt the sting of his words like a slap. Of course I let him into my flat, even though wed been at each other’s throats for a month. Wed stopped talking altogether, and now Simon shows up at two in the morning with a disaster. All our spats instantly seemed like childish squabbles.
Simon, what happened? Dont hold back, I begged, already feeling halfresponsible for his loss. After all, wed been lovers. He didnt answer; he just shoved me onto the couch. I didnt fight backI wanted to calm him, to hold him, to help him forget for a moment. I wasnt about to call him a selfish, arrogant brute just then. It wasnt the time.
The night roared on, sleepless and chaotic. In the morning I dragged a groggy Simon out of bed. He had no memory of anything.
Emily, why am I here? We were arguing, he said, genuinely baffled.
I didnt remind him why hed barged in. I guessed his rambling story was just drunken nonsensehe could easily fabricate that. Then his phone buzzed, flashing Jelly. Thats what he called his wife.
He tossed the phone aside and looked at me with a guilty flicker, as if something was finally clicking.
Youre an idiot, Simon. You buried your wife yesterday and now youre joking about it? Get out, you whelp! I shoved him toward the door.
I never saw him again.
Id been on my own since I was twenty; my parents passed away one after the other. I never rushed into marriagethere were always suitors buzzing around like bees on a honey pot. Some cheap, some generous, some already hitched
Simon turned out to be the longestlasting of them all, simply because I fell deeply for him. I knew he had a family, then realized he was a born actorlying, fantasising, and spinning threehour stories was a hobby. Yet he showered me with extravagant roses, extravagant gifts, wild nights, all while keeping his jelly close to his heart. I wouldnt have been shocked to learn he kept a roster of mistresseshe was a glutton for love, a smoothtalking cad, plain and simple.
Meanwhile, all my friends settled down, got married, had kids. I kept seeing Simon, fully aware there was no futurehed never leave his family. So we argued more and more over nothing and everything.
Finally, Simons last stunt slammed the lid on our shaky, slippery affair. I was free again, hunting for that elusive happiness.
Then Ian drifted into my life. He was a country lad who worked in the city. We met on the commuter trainme heading to my aunts, him heading home from work. He sat a bit closer, we chatted, swapped numbers. He seemed decent enough, and most importantly, he wasnt married. We started dating.
If Ian were a dish, Simon would be a banqueta skyhigh feast, while Ian was a plain pork pie. Ian was frugal, a bit rough around the edges, but Id learned to accept imperfections; after all, years fly by. He even invited me to his family cottage:
Ma wants to meet you.
Whats there to meet when Im already expecting? I should have been planning a wedding, smoothing out my veil
We arrived at Ians cosy cottage. The table was piled high with hearty country dishes, but I felt sick to my stomach. My future motherinlaw, eyes narrowed in assessment, ordered Ian:
Son, take the guest out onto the veranda, let her sit on the bench, and get back to the table.
Ian obeyed, leaving me alone while my soontobe motherinlaw pretended not to notice me.
The next day Ian escorted me back to the train in silence, then returned to his mother, who apparently never warmed to me. I rushed my wedding plans, but they fell flat. Before I could get home, I ended up in the hospitalan inevitable miscarriage. The doctor, pitying my ragged state, said:
Dont worry, love. If the babys not right, its better this way than to spend a lifetime with a sick child.
Honestly, I thought, Well, thats that. Ian wasnt meant to be. The breakup was cold and calm; I felt no regret.
Among my many dalliances was schoolmate Eddie. Hed been trailing me since we were at the back of the classroom. I kept him on standby, a convenient backup. He kept proposing, but I stayed mysteriously silent. Eventually Eddie married a woman with a toddler, and she later gave him a son. Ten years on, the same Eddie popped up, apologising profusely:
Emily, I rushed into marriage, now Im hoping for a divorce.
He droned on about his miserable marriage, his temper, the disharmony in his life. I nodded, offered a sympathetic sigh, and tried to keep warm for him. One day Eddie burst in, beaming like a buttered pancake in the sun:
Emily, my second sons arrived! Congrats!
Congrats! Say hi to your wife! Just go, Eddie, forever! I could barely hold back tears.
That night I wept into my pillow, the tears tasting of regret.
Back at school, my best friend Molly seemed to have it allhusband, daughter, a comfortable home. Ill admit, I was green with envy. Why does everything fall into place for her and not for me? I wondered. Her husband, Max, never caught my eye; he wasnt my type. Id often drop by her place, where Max was ignored, and wed chat about everything and nothing.
One afternoon Molly dropped a bombshell:
Emily, Ive fallen in love! Ive lost my head. Hes married, has two kids.
Forget it, Molly. Dont wreck your own life or anyone elses. What are you missing? Youre already happy. Id advise against a married lovertrust me, it never ends well, I warned, feeling sorry for her.
Molly sobbed, her voice cracking:
I cant live without David, I cant! Im suffocating. Id give up everything for him!
I get it, Molly, but stop before its too late. Youll only end up biting your own elbows, I replied, though she seemed to hear none of it.
That was the last time we spoke. Molly never called again.
Then, out of the blue, Max showed up:
Hey, Emily. Hows life? Still single?
Whats the rush? Marriage will come when its meant to. What brings you here? I asked, clueless.
Molly left me, Max sighed.
I felt sorry for the abandoned husband and we talked through the night. By morning we were tangled in each others arms. Max moved in and we lived together for six monthsmy little slice of happiness. How could Molly have turned down such a perfect man? Why swap a loving Max for some other guy? I never understood.
Eventually Max didnt propose; he vanished as abruptly as hed appeared, wooed away by a new colleague, seven years his senior, with a teenage daughter. He married her, and theyve been officially together for twenty years now. Molly, meanwhile, married Davida love story they brag about. I still dont believe stolen happiness goes unpunished; two families suffered because of that otherworldly affair.
I havent seen my former best friend in over twenty years.
So, how am I doing? Ive spent my life mending broken, wounded, drooping wings, feeling sorry for everyone. Men would swoop in, then fly back to their wives, while time marched on mercilessly. As my grandmother used to say:
Any lass, when her season comes, will fade.
My season arrived, and the carousel of life screeched to a halt. Princes stopped peeking through the window. I got a pedigree catMiloto have someone to care for, someone to share my thoughts with. Still single, childless, and forever waiting for a story that never quite fits.
