15September2024
Ive been trying to make sense of the wreckage of my own life, and tonight the thoughts finally spill onto the page.
I loved James with a fierceness that made me forgive almost anything. We married when I was barely out of the teenage yearsjust turned nineteen. Id been chasing after him since I was sixteen, trying to look older than my years, hoping hed notice me. At first he barely gave me a glance; I was just a little girl to him. Then I grew up, turned into a pretty young woman, and he decided that I was now an easy catch, something that might as well fall into his hands.
When we finally got together, I was eighteen, he twentyfour. Our relationship was odd from the start, lopsided and uneasy. James would disappear for days, ignore my calls, ignore my texts, just wander off somewhere. Then, as if nothing had happened, hed stroll back in, and Id be waiting, wiping away tears, believing his whispered promise that he loved only me. His nature was freespirited, he said, as if that excused the emptiness.
I clung to the hope that one day he would change, that he would love me as fiercely as I loved him.
Tom had been my friend since nursery. We grew up on the same street in Camden, later attended the same secondary school. Hed loved me in secret for years, though he knew I only saw him as a friend. It hurt him to watch me undervalue myself, to see me settle for less than I deserved. He understood that if I ever returned his feelings, hed give everything for me. But he also knew that would never happen; my heart was already locked onto James, as if I were under a spell. So Tom kept his distance, staying close enough to be invisible but always there.
Whenever James vanished again or started a pointless argument, I would break down to Tom.
Why does he treat me like this? I love him so much, Id sob.
Maybe you should stop loving him, hed reply, his voice edged with frustration.
I cant, you dont understand, Id protest.
Tom understood perfectly. He would gladly give up his love for me if it meant Id be happier, yet he never arguedit was his way of protecting me.
James grew more uncontrollable. He drank heavily and flirted openly with other women. In my desperation, I made the biggest, most naive mistake a lovesick woman could makeI got pregnant, believing a child would fix everything, that it would mature James, that hed finally value me and love his baby.
I was nineteen when I learned I was expecting. I told James, but saw no joy in his eyes.
We should probably get married, I whispered, embarrassed, while its still not obvious.
Perhaps, he muttered, his brow furrowed.
I never understood why he agreed to a wedding. Maybe he thought something might work out, or perhaps he simply didnt realize he could walk away.
I was the happiest bride I could have been. For Tom, that day felt like a funeral. I stood there radiant, full of hope, and he wanted to steal me away, to lock me up until I realized he was better than James. He never acted on it, though. He feigned goodwill toward my new husband, drowning his own disappointment in pints at the local pub.
Our son, Arthur, arrived a few months later. At first James tried to be a decent father and husband. He stopped disappearing, cut back on nights out, helped with the baby, and didnt argue with me as much. Yet the change was shortlived. When Arthur turned one, James slipped back into old habits. He vanished for three days, leaving me frantic, calling every doctors office, the hospice, and his mates for any clue about his whereabouts.
Tom was there again, holding Arthur while I scoured the city for James. I even filed a police report before James finally staggered back home, hungover and indifferent.
You dont owe me explanations, he snapped as he passed the kitchen. Arthur wailed, but James ignored him, his hangover the only thing on his mind.
From that moment James stopped pretending. Hed come and go, and each time I welcomed him back, hoping against hope that hed finally change.
When Arthur turned three, James left for good. At first I thought hed simply run off again, but after picking Arthur up from nursery, I found the house empty of his things. While I was trying to process the shock, a message pinged on my phone:
Im filing for divorce. Dont wait for me.
I felt the world collapse. I screamed, wanted to end everything. Tom rushed over as soon as he heard, spending an entire day with me and Arthur, making sure I didnt do anything rash.
When I finally stopped sobbing, Tom spoke.
So Ill be your husband now, and Arthurs dad.
I looked at him, shook my head.
Im sorry, Tom. I love you as a friend, and Im grateful for all youve done, but I cant see you as a husband. I Im sorry.
I know, he said quietly. But I love you beyond friendship. I wont let you suffer any longer.
He couldnt find the right words. I was so broken I could only nod, letting him stay.
Tom never pressed. He stayed by my side, caring for Arthur as if he were his own, never forcing anything. Watching him, I realized there would never be a better option for me. No one else would love my son like Tom did, no one else would look after me as he did.
I surrenderednot out of love, but out of sheer desperation.
When Tom finally asked me to marry him, I said yes. The day Arthur first called him dad I wept openly. Our family seemed perfect, the kind people envied. Sometimes I thought Tom might finally be the man I loved, not just a friend. Other times I feared James would return, that Id run back to my reckless ex.
Life became a tightrope between hope and dread. Then, on Arthurs sixth birthday, we threw a grand party at a trampoline park, followed by cake and presents at home. As we were about to blow out the candles, the doorbell rang.
Another guest to wish you happy birthday? I smiled, stepping toward the door.
Ill get it, Tom said.
He opened it without looking through the peephole, and a cold dread slipped into his chest. Standing there was James, clutching a tattered plush rabbit.
He gave Tom a snort.
Youre still here? Wheres my son? I came to wish him a happy birthday.
Whos there, Tom? I called from the kitchen, my face going pale as Arthur froze.
Hello, James grinned, holding out his hand. Happy birthday, son!
Arthur looked between his two fathers, confused.
Dad, whos this? he asked Tom.
James face darkened; he hadnt expected this.
Dad?
Tom, take Arthur away, I said, my voice flat.
Emily please, he whispered.
The look in James eyes was the same as before, as if some old enchantment were trying to pull me back. I knew I would never let Arthur go again. He was my child, and Tom was the only father I could trust.
Tom tried to keep the party going, handing out presents, but his smile was strained. He kept glancing at the doorway, waiting for me to tell him it was time to leave. I entered the room, my hands shaking, my smile forced.
So, hows everyone? I asked, trying to sound casual.
Were playing! Arthur shouted, running toward the cake. Did Uncle James leave?
He left, I replied, trying to sound light. We blew out the candles and are now eating the cake, right?
Yeah! the birthday boy cheered, rushing to the kitchen. Tom seized my elbow, looking at me with a mixture of worry and affection.
Come on, we dont want the cake to melt, I laughed, pulling him toward the dining room. Otherwise well end up at the dentists.
Emily he began, but I brushed him aside and kissed his cheek.
He wont come back, I whispered to myself. Hes no longer part of Arthurs life.
And you? he asked, eyes soft.
Me? All I need is you. He smiled, and we walked together into the kitchen, hand in hand.
Perhaps the wild, reckless love of my youth never truly vanished, but it has been softened by the wisdom of experience. Toms steady love has finally melted the ice around my heart, and I know now that I am happier than I ever was before. The frantic passion of my past is only a memory, a storm that has finally passed.
