Emily and I have been together twentysix years. We met at university, married after graduation and, two years later, welcomed our son, Thomas. It was a perfectly ordinary life.
When Thomas grew up, got married and moved to London with his wife, everything at home shifted. Suddenly we found ourselves with nothing to talk about, and we didnt even miss the chatter. Wed known each other inside out, could finish each others sentences with a glance. A few words now and then, then silence.
Back when I first started work after university, there was a woman in the office, about fortyfive, who always seemed older than she was. She took winter holidays every year and always came back with a flawless tan. Her short, boyish haircut and sunkissed skin made her stand out.
Must be a solarium, huh? a younger colleague whispered to Emily.
One day Emily could no longer hold back and asked the woman where she got such a colour in winter.
We spent the week on a ski resort in the Alps with our husbands, she replied.
Really? At your age? Emily gasped.
The woman laughed heartily.
At fortyfive, love! When you reach my age youll realise that this is the real youth not foolishness but maturity. Remember, boredom is the greatest enemy of a marriage. All affairs and divorces start there. Once the kids are grown, life settles into a quiet routine, and thats when men start losing their minds. We women never have time to be bored. We work, look after the children and handle all the housework, while the husband lounges on the sofa, wondering how to spend his unused energy. Some drink, some chase new thrills, as the saying goes, looking for a new lady.
I was naïve, thinking a man who rests after a hard day, watches TV and doesnt drink, is harmless. Meanwhile I was buzzing around the house like a windup toy. Then one day he told me hed fallen for another woman, that he was bored with me, and he left. Can you imagine?
When I remarried, I behaved differently. I made my husband share the chores, we always escaped to the country on weekends, skied in winter, never gave him a minute to relax on the sofa. Were still together, the kids are grown, and we travel around the country. It may not suit everyone, but take the lesson.
Emily never forgot those words. She began to notice that after a hearty dinner, Andrew would drift to the sofa and stare at the television. It became harder and harder to coax him out of the house. Once he used to go hiking, raft down fast rivers, and surprise her with elaborate birthday plans.
She tried to rattle him out of his inertia buying theatre tickets, arranging a threedeck river cruise on the Thames. At the theatre he dozed, at the cruise he yawned after a couple of glasses of wine and rushed back to his beloved sofa, and the cramped cabin made him complain. The idea of skiing was out of the question; his growing belly made any active sport feel like a chore.
When Emily suggested a night at the cinema, he looked at her with weary eyes and said, Where are you dragging me? I just want to sleep in on the weekend. Go with your friends.
In the early days of our marriage, Andrew used to go camping with his mates, forming a little club of outdoor enthusiasts. They loved rafting down fast rivers and tackling rapids. He played the guitar and sang decently.
Emily never joined them work, pregnancy, caring for our little Thomas always got in the way.
Dont give him the day off, my mother warned Emily. Hell find someone with similar interests.
I dont need him to cheat, I can trust him, Emily replied. Im waiting for him to come back from the hills.
Eventually the camping group fell apart as the men settled down with families.
One lazy Sunday Emily perched on the sofa with an old photo album. At first she flipped through reluctantly, then she got more and more absorbed, watching the pictures and reminiscing.
Would you like to relive the old days, remember our youth? she asked.
No, who would I go with? Everyones busy, we have grandchildren.
Just with me. I never went on any of your trips. Show some initiative, call up your old mates, maybe someone will agree.
Are you serious? Those were reckless, wild youths, and now?
Too sensible? Emily smiled sarcastically. Then lets go to the theatre this weekend, have a cultural night, she said, slamming the album shut and sending a cloud of dust into the air.
He thought about it. Later at dinner he said, I talked to a mate, Tolik. Hell map out a route, we still have the old tents. We can rent a raft from the sports club. I saw his eyes light up, and that pleased me.
Finally he showed an interest in life again, talking only about the upcoming trek.
Youll have to be realistic, Emily. Youre a beginner, itll be tough. The river, the rapids, the mosquitoes. Well be sleeping on the ground in sleeping bags, no showers, no proper toilets, and well have to crawl under bushes. Youll probably want to go home on the first day, he warned.
I wont quit, I promised.
Fine then, Andrew said, giving me a skeptical glance. Well need proper gear, not high heels and silk slippers.
We went shopping together. He wouldnt let me leave his side.
I know youll buy swimsuits and dresses, but for a trek you need warm clothes and sturdy boots.
I trusted him and followed his lead without question. The preparations soon took over my mind, and our backpacks were packed.
Put it on, lets see how youre ready, he instructed.
Clumsy and wincing, I hoisted the heavy pack onto my shoulders and nearly collapsed under its weight. The trail would be uneven, across ravines and scrub.
Take it off, he ordered. Lets see what youre actually carrying.
I set the pack down with relief.
He rummaged through it, pulling out hair curlers, a makeup bag, a hairdryer, dozens of cream jars, shampoos and a heap of casual clothes suitable for a summer garden party, but useless on a mountain path.
Those will get you swarmed by midges, he concluded. Maybe youd rather stay home? He looked at me with a hint of pity.
I swallowed, embarrassed.
Taking a deep breath, Andrew stripped the pack of everything superfluous, leaving only the essentials. The load became far lighter.
I can manage, I said, feeling a surge of confidence.
I remembered how Id tried to pull him into the theatre and the arts, imposing my interests, and how hed eventually come along. As his partner, I was meant to stand by him in both hardship and joy.
The closer we got to the departure, the more doubts crept in, urging me to abandon the wild idea. At the station platform we waited for the train that would take us far from the comforts of civilisation. Besides us were three other men and a woman.
Are your other friends divorced? I asked quietly.
No, their wives and grandchildren are at home.
The train ride was lively; the men told funny anecdotes, Andrew strummed his guitar from the luggage rack. I decided that if we kept this up, Id manage just fine.
But once we alighted a few miles from the station, my back ached from the pack, my legs trembled, sweat soaked my face. I was ashamed to complain; the other men were lugging sleeping bags, tents and a deflated canoe.
The countryside was beautiful, yet I saw nothing, focusing only on not tripping, not falling, not breaking a bone. When we finally reached the river, I just wanted to collapse on the grass and never move again. The men promptly lit a fire and pitched their tents as if they werent exhausted.
Youll get used to it, urged Tania, another womans wife. Lets fetch water for dinner.
Tears threatened as I longed for a hot shower and a soft bed.
Then the night settled in. Andrew played the guitar by the fire, his voice ringing clear and warm. I forgot how beautiful his singing was. In that moment he seemed alive, cheerful, the man Id fallen in love with years ago.
Thinking of running off? he asked the next morning, eyeing the blisters on my hands from the river raid.
No, I answered firmly.
At the rapids I hesitated. The water roared, jagged stones jutted out. I wanted to stay on the bank, but seeing his amused grin, I clutched the rafts side, ignoring the oars, terrified of plunging into the icy flow.
When the rapids finally eased, I exhaled a huge sigh and shouted with joy louder than anyone else.
We returned home a week later, exhausted yet brimming with stories. I realised I would miss the new friends, the campfire songs, the open sky, the silence.
After a shower and a hearty dinner we sat together at the laptop, scrolling through photos, teasing each other, laughing like we hadnt done in ages. The trek had brought us closer; we now shared interests again. We fell asleep in each others arms, just as we did in our youth.
Next year, shall we do it again? I asked, nestling close to his warm side.
What, you liked it? he chuckled. Its not a night at the West End. Its life.
Ill be better prepared now. You wont be embarrassed for me, I promised.
And I wasnt embarrassed at all. For a rookie you were brilliant. I didnt expect it. You surprised me, he replied.
His praise made my cheeks flush.
When our son called, I rattled off the whole adventure.
Your life sounds crazy, I thought youd be bored and melancholy.
Were bored, but in a good way. How are you?
Were expecting a daughter, he announced.
After the holiday I returned to work, eyes bright, a braided beaded bracelet on my wrist.
Did you holiday down south? You look barely tanned, a colleague remarked, eyeing the bracelet.
Its a charm. A shaman gave it to me, I replied.
So, if you want to revive the spark in your relationship, dont stay stuck at home. Find shared interests, even if theyre a bit extreme. It wont suit everyone, but theres always something else to try. As some writer once said, Never regret the effort you put into saving love. Because sometimes, the greatest adventures begin not with grand gestures, but with a single step into the unknowntogether.
