The Return
Owen climbed the narrow stairs into the courtyard. The basement of the building housed a small electronics repair shop where hed been working for the past two months. The sky was grey and overcast, but no rain fell. For October, the weather was unusually mild. Darkness was already creeping in, though it was only five in the evening.
He didnt own a car and only took the bus in bad weather. Owen shrugged and walked out of the yard. Once, hed been an IT specialist with a decent salary and a family. But a string of absurd and tragic events had cost him both. Hed started drinking, lost his job An old university mate had taken pity on him and given him work fixing computers.
Owen drank. He was late, sometimes missing work entirely. Today, Simon had warned himeven if Owen was a natural, working miracles even when hungover, patience had limits. If this continued, hed have to let him go. Owen knew he was sliding into the abyss. And it terrified him. If Simon fired him, where would he go?
The streetlights flickered on as dusk deepened. His body screamed for a drink, his jaw clenching with craving. Passing cafés, shops, and pubs, Owen kept his eyes down, shoulders hunched, walking briskly. He could resist. Hed promised Simon.
He didnt consider himself an alcoholic, but two days sober was his limit. Nights were the worstwithout alcohol, sleep was impossible.
A familiar corner pub loomed ahead. He often stopped there on his way home. Better to have a quick pint here than buy a whole bottle and drink alone. But he knew himselfone drink would lead to another, and hed stumble out hours later, wrecked. Tomorrow would bring a pounding headache and crushing guilt. Hesitating, he walked on.
There. Hed done it. He felt almost heroic. Until the next pub.
His flat was in sight now. One last shop stood between him and home. Owen paused outside its bright window. Rows of bottles glinted on the shelves inside, calling to him like a lighthouse to a lost ship.
His feet carried him toward the door. Then, halfway there, he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, clenched his fists, and hurried past.
*You could still turn back*, a desperate voice whispered in his head. Owen broke into a run, breath ragged. Only when his front door slammed shut behind him did he stop, gasping.
He rarely came home sober. Stepping into his bachelors den, he recoiled at the mess. The fridge held littlea tin of tuna, a stale quarter-loaf, and a hardened lump of cheese. He shouldve gone shopping, bought pasta and eggs. But then hed have bought a bottle too. Hed survive.
To distract himself until the shops closed, he cleaned. He stuffed scattered clothes into the washing machine, scrubbed dishes, wiped the crumb-strewn table, then mopped. The flat smelled better, though laundry detergent couldnt mask the lingering stench of booze and smoke.
He checked the clock. There was time for ten more trips to the shopno need to even put on shoes. But Simons stern face flashed in his mind. Owen went to the window.
The building opposite glowed with warm yellow squares. Inside, families gathered around kitchen tables. A couple curled on a sofa watching telly. In another room, a teenager pretended to study while secretly listening to music. Owen had done the same at that age.
A wave of loneliness hit him so hard he nearly howled.
The washing machine beeped. He hung the laundry, drank tea with the rock-hard cheese, and watched the clock tick toward closing time. He could still make it Instead, he dialled his ex-wife.
“Owen, I told you not to call in the evenings.”
“Nice to hear your voice too. Let me talk to Emily.”
“Are you drunk? Shes asleep.”
“No, Im sober.”
A sigh. “Sleep it off. And dont call again. Emilys just starting to get used to David”
He wanted to say David wasnt her father, that she was *his* daughter, that he missed herbut the line went dead.
Strange that Laura hadnt blocked his number. That fragile hope kept him going. After all, a womans “no” often meant “not yet.”
He made the bed with fresh sheets and lay down, knowing sleep wouldnt come. The craving was unbearablebut there was nothing left to drink.
***
Hed met Laura at university. She was a year below him. One day in the canteen, shed asked to cut in line. Hed let her. Shed saved him a seat, watching him curiously. Back then, he was the star of his course, the one lecturers held up as an example.
They started dating. Owen helped with her essays, even wrote her dissertation.
“Why did you pick this course? Shouldve chosen something easier. How will you work in this field?” hed often ask.
“Youll work. Ill raise the kids,” shed laughed. Thats how he learned she was pregnant. She was a good cook, practical. Marriage seemed natural. In time, their daughter Emily was born.
When Emily started nursery, Laura took a job as a PA at a construction firm, putting her computer skills to use. She dressed well, wore makeup. Sometimes, Owen saw her being dropped off by car.
“I want to buy a car,” shed announced once.
Owen dreamed of one too, but couldnt afford it. Hed taken loans to buy their flatno room for luxuries.
While he paid debts, his mother died. They rented out her flat, but Laura took a loan for a car. Owen snapped.
“Im tired of scraping by. I cant live like this,” shed shouted.
“Is there someone else?” hed asked bluntly.
“Yes. Im sorry, but I have to think of Emily”
So that was it? He wasnt thinking of her? Hed slammed the door and left. Thank God hed kept his mothers flat. Living alone was hard. Nights were worsthe drank to numb the pain.
He tortured himself imagining another man in his placedrinking from his mug, sleeping in his bed. Had she ever loved him? Used him for his brains? The drink silenced those thoughts. Until it cost him his job
***
Somehow, he slept. In his dream, he wandered through fog, searching for someone, unable to call out. Then a voice: “Owen!” But Laura only ever used his surname. He woke, heart pounding.
It took him a moment to remember where he was. He gave up on sleep, sat in the kitchen smokingone perk of bachelorhood. Laura wouldve banished him to the stairwell.
Simon raised an eyebrow when Owen arrived early.
“I didnt drink,” Owen said. “Can I take a long lunch?”
“Thirsty already?” Simon frowned.
“I want to see my daughter. Before she forgets me.”
Simon agreed, on condition Owen made up the time.
He waited on a bench by the school gates, watching the exit. He didnt dare go closerno need to run into David, who looked at him like he was dirt.
No cars today. Kids streamed out, but no Emily. Had she stayed home sick? Then he spotted her pink coat. He jumped up, wavingbut a black SUV pulled up, blocking his view.
Suddenly uneasy, he darted around the car. The rear door was open. A flash of pinkor his imagination? A hooded figure slammed the door. Owen shoved his hand inpain exploded as the door crushed his fingers.
Darkness swarmed his vision.
“Dad!” Emily shoved the door open, tumbling onto him. The SUV screeched away, clipping his hip.
He sat on the wet pavement, his hand throbbing, heavy as concrete.
“In broad daylight”
“Call the police!”
“Drunk fools, blind to everything”
“That man tried to take her!”
“Daddy!” Emily sobbed into his ear.
Voices reached him as if through cotton wool.
An ambulance took them to hospital. Emily mustve called Laura, because when he emerged, they rushed to him.
“Dad!” Emily clung to him.
“Did you break anything?” Laura asked.
“Just bruised,” Owen said.
“Thank you. I cant imagine what wouldve happened” Emily buried her face in his shoulder.
“I told Mum everything,” she said.
“David was supposed to pick her up. If Id known” Lauras voice cracked.
“Its okay. Shes safe.” Owen tried to hug her, but she pulled away.
“Well drive you home,” she said.
In the backseat, Emily studied his bandaged fingers. “Does it hurt?”
“Not much.”
“How will you work?” Laura glanced at him in the mirror. Hed have cut off his arm just to keep her looking at him like thatnot coldly, as before.
At his flat, he offered to pick Emily up from school while he recovered.
“Well manage,” Laura said, driving off.
But that evening, she called. “You cant cook with that hand. Ill bring soup tomorrow.”
Pity was the last thing he wanted. “Dont. Ill cope.”
“I was thinking if its not too hard, could you meet Emily at noon tomorrow?”
*What about David?* Owen bit back the question.
Next morning, he didnt call Simonhe went in. Simon took one look at his swollen fingers and sent him home.
Owen waited openly by the school gates.
“Mum and Uncle David had a huge row last night,” Emily chattered on the way home. “Dad are you coming back?”
“What about Uncle David?”
“Mum kicked him out. He wasnt at a meetinghe was with his girlfriend. I heard. Shes not homecome on!” She tugged him toward their old flat.
Stepping inside after so long felt surreal. Little had changedjust small things. A new kettle.
“The old one broke. Mum bought this. Im glad Davids gone. I never liked him.”
Sitting in his old spot, he felt like a guest.
He helped Emily with homework, losing track of time until the front door slammed. Laura didnt seem surprised to see him.
“Dinners soon,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen.
They ate together, just like before. It felt like coming home from a long tripor another life.
“Finished your homework?” Laura asked Emily.
“Dad helped.”
“I should go,” Owen stood. “Dinner was lovely.”
Laura rose too. They stood close, avoiding each others eyes.
“Its late. Stay. Ill make up the sofa.”
He lay stiffly, afraid to move. She seemed awake too, unnaturally still.
In the morning, he woke as they were leaving.
“Why are you up? Youre not working,” Laura said. “Emily finishes at one. Meet her then.”
He wandered the flat, ate the breakfast Laura left, washed up despite the pain.
Yesterday, hed seen Davids toothbrush. Today, only two remainedEmilys pink one, Lauras green. Had she thrown the third away? Like shed thrown him out?
He longed to stay. What if she told him to leave? Should he go now? What if she didnt? Again with the *what ifs*. If she let him stay, hed work harder than everno more drink, a better job. He *was* good at what he did.
In his jeans, he found twenty quid. He bought a small bouquet of pale pink flowers.
Laura noticed but said nothing. She didnt tell him to leave either. He still slept on the sofa. But that evening, over dinner, she talked about workjust like old times.
“Does the secretary still flirt with your boss?” he ventured.
“No, she quit. The new girl and I get on.”
How good it felt, the three of them together. Oddly, since staying here, he hadnt craved a drink.
Maybe things could mend? He wasnt drinking. She wasnt pushing him away. Hed work tirelessly to earn her trust. And hed keep renting out his mothers flat
Somehow, against all odds, hed found his way back. And this time, he wouldnt let go.
