Hey Emma, sorry to call so late. Ive got terrible news my boyfriend Toms wife was killed in a crash last night can I come over? I was halfasleep when he stumbled in, drunk and slurring. I let him in, even though wed been at each others throats for a month. All our fights felt pointless now, just noise.
Tom, what happened? Speak up, I said, already feeling guilty about his loss. Wed been an affair, after all. He didnt say a word, just hauled me into his bed. I didnt fight back I wanted to soothe him, to hold him, to help him forget for a moment. I couldnt tell him how selfish and careless hed been. Not now.
The night dragged on, sleepless and chaotic. In the morning I dragged a groggy Tom out of bed. He had no memory of anything.
Emily, why am I here? We were fighting, he muttered, genuinely confused. I didnt remind him why hed shown up; I just guessed his drunken ramblings were nonsense. Then his phone buzzedHoney flashing on the screen. Thats what he called his wife.
He dropped the call, looked at me with a guilty stare, as if something was finally clicking.
Are you an idiot? You buried your wife yesterday and youre joking about it? I snapped, shoving him out the door. I never saw him again.
Ive lived alone since I was twenty, my parents gone one after the other. I never rushed into marriage; suitors were always buzzing around like bees on a blossomtightfisted, generous, married, you name it. Tom was the longestlasting fling, though. I fell hard, even though I knew he had a family. He turned out to be a born actor, lying and daydreaming like it was nothing. Hed bring me extravagant roses, wild gifts, crazy nights, yet always mentioned his honey and never hurt his wife. I wouldnt have been shocked to learn he had a string of mistresses he was that insatiable, a smoothtalking lothario.
While my friends settled down, had kids, I kept seeing Tom, fully aware there was no future. Hed never leave his family, so we argued more and more over everything and nothing.
Finally, Toms last stunt put the final nail in the shaky coffin of our relationship. I was free again, hunting for something new.
Then I met James on the commuter train to Manchester, heading home after a shift in Leeds. He sat next to me, we chatted, swapped numbers. He wasnt married, which was a relief, and we started dating. If I compare James to Tom, its night and day. James is frugal, blunt, a bit rough around the edges, but I was ready to accept his flaws. He invited me to his parents cottage in the Cotswolds.
Ma wants to meet you, he said.
What could she possibly want to see? I was already pregnant, already thinking about the wedding dress and veil.
We arrived at the cottage; the table groaned under a mountain of hearty country fare. I felt sick, couldnt look at a thing. My future motherinlaw, with a critical eye, told James: Son, take the guest out onto the porch, let her rest, then get back to the table. She barely acknowledged me.
The next day James silently saw me off at the station and went back to his mum, who clearly didnt like me at all. I rushed the wedding plans, but they fell apart. I didnt even make it home before I was rushed to the hospitalmy baby was gone. The doctor, seeing how shattered I was, tried to comfort me: Dont worry, love. If the miscarriage happened, its better now than carrying a sick child forever. I thought, Fine, maybe James wasnt meant to be. He and his mum seem content together. I split from him without a tear, feeling nothing remorseful.
Among my flings was a schoolmate, Daniel, whod been pining for me since we sat sidebyside in class. I kept him as a backup, letting him dangle. He proposed, I stayed mysteriously silent. In the end he married a woman with a child, who later gave him a son. Ten years on, Daniel, now a father, showed up apologising profusely: Emily, I rushed into marriage, I want a divorce. He kept rambling about his miserable wife, incompatible temperaments, life out of sync. I listened, nodded, let him vent, even once he burst in, beaming, Emily, Ive just had a second son! Congrats! I could barely hold back sobs, telling him to go away forever. That night I wept into my pillow.
My best friend, Claire, had it all a husband, a daughter, a comfortable life. I admit I was jealous. Her husband, Mark, never appealed to me. Id often pop over to their place; Claire ignored Mark, wed chat about anything and nothing. One day she broke down: Emily, Ive fallen for someone. Hes married, has two kids. I said, Forget it, Claire. Dont wreck your family or his. Youre already happy, dont chase a married lover. She sobbed, I cant live without David, Im ready to fly to him! I tried to stop her, but she walked away. We never spoke again; she stopped calling.
Then, out of the blue, Mark turned up on my doorstep: Hey Emily, hows life? Still single? I asked why he was there. He sighed, Claire left me. We talked all night, ended up in each others arms. He stayed with me for six months, and I thought Id finally found happiness. How could Claire have turned down such a perfect man? Why swap a loving Mark for a womanizer? I never understood.
Mark never proposed; he vanished as quickly as hed appeared. A new colleague, older than him by seven years, with a teenage daughter, entered his life. He married her, and theyve been together for twenty years now.
Claire eventually married David, and they say they have a love story for the ages. I dont believe stolen happiness goes unpunished; two families suffered because of that forbidden love. I havent seen Claire in over twenty years.
People ask how Im doing. Ive spent years trying to patch up broken, bruised wings, only to watch the men fly back to their wives. Time kept slipping by. As my Gran used to say, Every girl has her season, and it fades. My season has come. The carousel of my life has stopped. No princes at my window any more. I got a British Shorthair cat for company, a companion to talk to. Still single, no kids, life didnt turn out as Id hoped.
