Hey, Emily! Sorry to drop by at this ungodly hour, but Ive got terrible newsmy wife was killed in a crash Can I come in? Dave slurred, halfasleep, the words barely making it out of his throat.
I felt like Id been splashed with cold water. Despite the fact that wed been at each others throats for weeksno conversation for a month I let him into the flat. His arrival at two in the morning, bearing such a dreadful tidbit, made all our petty spats look absurdly petty.
Dave, what happened? Dont hold back, I urged, already feeling a bite of guilt for his wifes death. After all, wed been more than friends.
Without a word, Dave hauled me onto the bed. I didnt resist; I wanted to soothe him, to hold him, to help him forget for a while. It wasnt the moment to call him a cad, a jerk, a selfish bore.
The night became a blur of restless tossing. In the morning I roused a dazed Dave, who stared at me with a blank expression.
Emily, why am I here? Were supposed to be fighting, he said, genuinely puzzled.
I didnt remind him why hed knocked on my door. I just guessed that his drunken ramblings the night before were nonsensehe could easily make it all up. Then his phone buzzed, displaying Honey. Thats what he used to call his wife.
He fumbled the call, cast a guilty glance my way, as if something was finally clicking.
You idiot! You buried her yesterday. You forgot? How can you joke about that? I snapped, shoving him out the door. Get lost, you wanker!
We never saw each other again.
Id been on my own since I was twentymy parents passed away one after the other. Id never rushed marriage; suitors came in droves, buzzing around like bees on honey. Some were stingy, some generous, some already hitched.
Dave turned out to be the longestrunning affair. I fell hard, even though I knew he had a family. Then I realised Dave was a born actorlying, fantasising, and spinning yarns as easy as breathing. Yet he showered me with extravagant roses, wild gifts, crazy nights, all while keeping an eye on his honey. He never mistreated his wife. I wouldnt have been shocked to learn hed had a string of mistresses; his appetite for love was insatiable. In short, he was a smoothtalking Lothario and nothing more.
By the time my friends were tying knots and popping out toddlers, I was still tangled up with Dave, fully aware there was no future. Hed never abandon his family, so our squabbles grew for no good reason.
Finally, Daves last stunt put a full stop on our shaky liaison. I was single again, hunting for a vague kind of happiness.
Thats when Tom turned up on my shore. He lived in a small village but worked in the city. We met on a commuter trainme heading to my aunts, him heading home from the office. He sat a few rows over, we swapped numbers, and the spark was there. The biggest bonus? He wasnt married. We started dating.
If Dave was the night to day, Tom was the day to night. He was tightfisted, a bit rough, not the most tenderhearted chap. But Id already learned to accept flawswhats the point of being a prude? He invited me to his village:
Ma wants to meet you.
What could a motherinlaw look at when I was already pregnant? I had a wedding to plan, a veil to iron
We arrived at Toms cottage. The table groaned under a mountain of country fare. I felt my stomach churn; I was about to be sick. Toms mother, eyeing me like a butcher assessing a carcass, ordered Tom:
Son, get the guest out onto the veranda, put her on the settee, and get back to the table.
Toms mum barely gave me a second glance after that.
The next day Tom escorted me back to the train, then returned to his motherwho, it seemed, had made up her mind I was not welcome. I rushed the wedding plans, but they never materialised.
I never even got home before a hospital visit turned my world upside down: a miscarriage. The doctor, gentle but blunt, said:
Dont worry, love. If the babys not viable, its better this way than raising a sick child later.
Honestly, I thought, Fine, no big deal. Toms just not my fate. He and his mum seem to get along fine enough.
I broke off with Tom calmly, with no regrets.
Among my revolving door of lovers was a schoolmate, George. Hed been pining for me since we were at the desk. I kept him on standby, a sort of safety net. He offered his hand and heart, but I stayed mysteriously quiet.
Eventually George married a woman with a child, and they later had a son of his own. Ten years on, he resurfaced, apologising profusely:
Emily, I married too quickly, I want a divorce.
And the usual sob stories followed
Hed pop round for a cup of tea, linger till dawn, moan about his wifes irritable temperament, our mismatched personalities, the chaos of his life. Id nod, offer a soothing purr, warm him with my presence. One afternoon he beamed like a buttered crumpet in the sun:
Emily, Ive just had a second child! Celebrate!
Congratulations! Say hi to the missus! And off you go, Georgenever back! I choked back tears.
That night I drowned my pillow in salty sobs.
Back at school my best mate was Claire. Everything seemed to fall into place for herhusband, daughter, a tidy house. Ill admit I was a tad jealous. Claires husband, Mark, never appealed to me. Id drop by often; Claire ignored Mark, wed chat about everything and nothing.
One day Claire burst out:
Emily, Im head over heels! Ive lost my mind. Hes married, two kids.
Forget it, Claire. Why wreck your own life and his? Whats missing? Youre already happy, you silly girl. Im not urging you to chase a married man. Youll just be feeding off someone elses misery, I tried to soothe, feeling she wasnt hearing me.
She sobbed, I cant live without Dave, Im suffocating. Id fly to him on a winged horse!
I get it, Claire, but stop before its too late. Youll end up biting your elbows, I warned, but she looked away, distant.
That was the last time we spoke. Claire never called or visited again.
Years later, out of the blue, Mark turned up:
Hey, Emily. Hows life? Still single?
Hey. No rush on the wedding front. What brings you here? I asked, clueless.
Claire left me, Mark sighed.
I felt sorry for Claires abandoned husband and we talked all night. By morning we were in each others arms. Mark stayed with me for six monthsa brief spell of happiness. How could Claire have turned down such a perfect bloke? Why trade a loving Mark for a other man? I never understood.
Mark never proposed, and just as quickly as he arrived, he vanished. A new colleagueseven years older, with a teenage daughtercame into his office. He married her. Theyve been hitched for twenty years now.
Claire eventually married David, and they say they live a love story worthy of a novel. I dont buy into stolen happiness without consequences; two families were hurt by that otherworldly romance.
I havent seen my old school friend in over twenty years.
So, how am I? Ive spent my life patching broken, bruised wings, caring for the wounded. Men would eventually fly back to their wives, leaving me behind as time marched on. As my grandmother used to say:
Every lass has her season; when it passes, she fades.
My season has come. The carousel of life has screeched to a halt. Princes no longer tap on my window. I adopted a pedigree cat for companionship, someone to chat with when the house is quiet. Still single, no kids, the story didnt turn out as Id hoped.
