“I don’t even want to get married because of this. I dont trust women! And dont you dare wreck your family over something stupid, you hear me?”
Id just finished my scrambled eggs and was sipping the last of my coffee when my wife, flushed and flustered, asked in an awkward, hesitant voice:
“Are you seeing someone else?”
“What makes you think”
“Dont lie to me, Simon. Just tell me the truth.”
Now it was my turn to splotch redsomething that rarely happens, except in moments like this: when you cant tell the truth but refuse to lie.
“You dont have to say anything. I already know.”
Like a scalded cat, I bolted outside. The whole workday was a mess of nerves and self-loathingthe situation had thrown me off track, forcing a decision I wasnt ready to make. Lying to my wife wasnt an option. She meant too much.
Yes, there was another woman. Young, beautiful, glamorousyoud laughcompletely lost my head, nothing left but testosterone leaking out of every orifice.
Exceptwrong guess! Not younger, not prettier than my wife. An old schoolmate. My first, unrequited love. An unfinished chapter, so to speak. Ran into her by chance after years.
“Si, is that you? Blimey, barely recognised you. Proper London gent now.”
I froze. Standing before me, smirking, was Christina.
I stood there like an idiot, feeling utterly ridiculous. She gave me a slow once-overmy old tormentor (shed made school hell with nicknames everyone else picked up. “Si” was the tamest of them).
“Come on, lets grab a cuppa, catch up. Mini reunion. Theres another friend joining usjust popping out of the shops.”
Before I could reply, out she cameSophie. Blonde, delicate, almost ethereal. She smiled at me.
“Simon Spencer, is that really you?” Her voice, painfully familiar. “How many years has it been?”
All I could do was smile back, a lump in my throat.
Of course, I took them to a café. We had a lovely chat. The next day, emotions churning, I met Sophie after work.
She wasnt surprised. Took it in stride. Another café, just the two of us this time, then back to her place and I was gone.
Six months of this double life. One dimension: familyJames and little Lily, who I adored, and my wife, who I loved and still love.
(Yes, still love. It didnt vanish, just dimmed a little.)
The other dimension: Sophie. A surge of emotions, the thrill of possession, love. If I could, Id have kept diving between worlds. Which is why, when my wife sussed me out prematurely, I was completely unprepared.
By the end of the day, only one thought stuck: I needed a break. A real one. Not for either of them, but for me. Time to think, to choose.
I was about to call my wife, Emily, but she beat me to it.
“Simon, Im taking the kids to my parents for a while. I need space,” she said. “Just one thingstay in touch with Lily and James. They love you, and I dont want them hurt before its necessary.”
Even more bewildered, I went home. When I imagined making a decision, it never occurred to me that Emily might make one of her ownand not in my favour. Fair enough.
For days, I thought about Sophie (fresh, bright, intoxicating) and Emily (my wife). Only the good memories. Didnt want to lose either.
No idea why, but at some point, I rang my old schoolmate Greg. Wed been mates since Year 7, even served together. Back then, wed both fancied Sophie with equal lack of success. Maybe thats why I called.
We arranged to meet. I invited him overpouring rain outside, didnt fancy some dingy pub. Greg was single, living with his parents. I was temporarily free. If he needed to crash, he could.
After work, I grabbed some frozen pies, sausage, and a bottle (what else do blokes need?), then headed home to wait.
“Nice place, mate! Proper cosy. Chuffed for you! Whens it my turn, eh? Your missus got any single friends?” Greg grinned, shaking my hand while eyeing the place.
We headed to the kitchen. Id already laid out plates, just needed to boil the pies.
“Wheres the missus?” Greg frowned. “Wanted to compliment her on the gaff. Just you, then? Couldve said! I brought cake and chocolates”
“Dont worry, well eat it. Shes at her parents for a bit. Right, first round!”
We knocked back a few. Then, finally, I told Greg about Sophie, the whirlwind affair, the mess I was in. He went quietcompletely unlike him.
“Whats with the silence? You fancied her too. Still do?”
“Nah, not a chance,” Greg laughed, strained. “Listen, mateyou dont want this. Trust me.”
“And whys that?” I snapped. Shed barely glanced at us back then, and if there were rumours, I wasnt interested.
“I lived with her for six months, Si.” Greg sighed. “She was divorced by then. Know who her ex was? Nick Parker, remember him?”
“Parker? Didnt know. She said she was divorced, never mentioned him. Yeah, she liked him, I remember. Wanted to punch his lights out back then.”
“Want me to spell it out?”
“Might as well now youve started,” I muttered, sobering up fast. Had a feeling I wouldnt like what came next.
“See, unlike you, I didnt just stareI wrote notes, carried her bag when she let me, even cornered her in the stairwell a couple times. No luck. She fancied Parker. Bloke was swimming in attention, not like us. Sophie fought for him like we fought for her.”
“Married himperfect couple, right? Local golden pair. Supposedly happy, till she started nagging about money. Didnt want to live with his mum, needed her own place, furniture, the lot. So off he went to Europe, driving second-hand motors for cash. Came back with moneyuntil one trip, he wrapped himself round a tree. Took months to piece him back together.”
“Spent every penny on his recovery. Credit where its dueshe stuck by him, got him back on his feet. Then suddenly shes got a flat. Leaves Parker.”
“We bumped into each other or did we? I was finishing work, she was out with Christinaher old mate. Remember her? No idea what they were doing there, wasnt exactly a shopping hotspot”
“Café, then well, you know. Thought I was flying. Ready to propose! Then she says shes off for two weekswork trip to Bristol. Like a mug, I believed her.”
“She comes back with a tan like shes been in Marbella. Place was grim, so I hit the sunbed and spa, she says.”
“Jealousy got the better of me. Started following her, especially when she couldnt meet. And guess what? Caught her! Jeep pulls up, out she hopswith some bloke. Not some young stud, either. Bloke in his sixties, looked like her granddad. Lost it, ran over and laid into himtook three blokes to pull me off.”
“Nearly got nicked. Turns out granddad was some bigwig. Only got off because he didnt want his affair going publicflat hed bought her and all”
“Thats me. Parkers storys worse.”
Greg wasnt sticking around. He got up, headed for the door. I didnt stop him, but I walked him out.
“Thats why Im not getting married. Dont trust women! And dont you wreck your family over this, you hear?” he said, shaking my hand.
Then he was gone.
A wave of gloom hit me. I collapsed on the bed, thinking about lifes fragility, love, happiness. About a dream thatd lived in my subconscious for years, only to turn toxic when it came true.
That dream had been a little silver boat, bobbing on an endless emerald sea under a summer sunrise. On it was the perfect girla mystery, forever unsolved, leaving just a shimmering aura of what mightve been.
Now I said goodbye, polishing off the bottle and falling asleep with that soggy cardboard boat in my arms.
Next morning, under a cold shower, I knew: chapter closed.
By sheer luck, my father-in-law called at lunch.
“Simon, got a flat. Stranded a klick from your work. Fancy helping? Back
