22November
I never thought Id end up writing this, but today I caught Ian in the act.He was halfasleep, the blankets halfpulled back, and there she wasClaire, his exwifestanding in our bedroom, fingers fumbling with the straps of a silk nightdress hed bought for her years ago.
Are you with her too? I shouted, my voice cracking. Ian, do you have any conscience left?
He tried to shrug it off from under the sheets. Its not a big deal! Its just an old flameshes my ex.
Actually, it is, I snapped. You cant just.
Emmy, I love you, he muttered, trying to sound sincere, but this is just habit.
My brain felt like it was on fire. What a habit, I managed, my words stumbling over each other.
Can I at least get dressed? Claires voice floated in, sounding almost amused.
And you took my favourite silk set too! I realized the pieces were slipping through my mind, each one striking a fresh wound.
Its a lovely set, Claire cooed. Ill get one just like it.
Give it back, I hissed, Ill never wear that again!
Claire, trying to keep the peace, asked again, Shall we get dressed? Im not shy about being with Ian, but you
Did you ever feel embarrassed with a strangers? I snapped back.
She shook her head. Lets not yell, shall we? Its not even a strangersafter all we were married for nearly twenty years!
The word married seemed to echo off the walls.
Ian finally managed to pull his trousers on, slipped out from under the duvet, and dragged me out of the room.
Come on, lets talk! he urged.
Im not moving until she gets out of my flat, I said, arms crossed. Run, dear, while I still have any respect left for your respectable age.
Girl, dont be rude! Im only twelve years older than you! Claire retorted.
Youll hear me calling you grandma soon enough, I replied, my tone sharp. Now get out! Or do you need a cane? A walking stick? If you dont hurry, the hospital will hand you crutches, and Ill pray it isnt a baby carriage!
Ian! Claire cried. Put your wife down!
Emmy! Ian laughed, pulling me away.
Better help this old lady disappear, then well talk! I snarled.
The whole scene felt like a dark comedy. Ian tried to shield Claire from my raging stare with his thin shoulders, while she struggled with the sheets, trying to pull the nightdress back on. When she finally stopped flaunting herself, my fists clenched so hard they ached, just to keep myself from lunging at the unexpected guest.
The front door slammed shut, and I growled, Clean up after her, Ill be waiting in the kitchen!
Yes, yes, right away! Ian blurted, sprinting back to the bedroom for his underwear.
Now tidy up! a voice called from the kitchen.
Of course, of course, he replied, wheezing as he ran.
When I finally made it to the kitchen, I was alone, tears streaming down my face as I stared out the window.
Emmy, Ian said softly, trying to sound tender.
How could you? I sobbed. How could you be with her? I might have understood if it were someone else. It hurts, its humiliatingespecially with her! After everything we had, how could you forgive her?
I didnt plan this, he mumbled, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. She called, said her son was in trouble
Thats no excuse to bring her into our home! I shrieked. After what she did to you, Id never even meet her again!
It was about the son
You told me about her debts, about how she hung them on you! How could you
***
Ive never been attracted to men much older than me. Men my own age seemed dull, but a fiveyear gap was just right. Ian, however, was fifteen years older, and that age gap settled deep within my heart. In my social circle there was no one even close to his age, let alone a man with his experience.
At work I met various men, but those encounters stayed strictly professional. This, though, seeped into my personal life.
It was sheer chance. I was driving home from the office when my cars dashboard flickered, the steering wheel felt wooden, yet the vehicle kept rolling by inertia. Panic struck for a heartbeat, but thank heavens the road was a quiet side street. I managed to pull over, set the handbrake, and stepped out.
Like any driver, I knew a thing or two about carsoil, coolant, windscreen wash. Anything beyond that required a garage. In a flurry of anxiety I popped the bonnet, eyes wide with bewilderment at the engine.
Whats wrong with you? I muttered to the machine. We were at the mechanic yesterday! Why didnt you tell me?
The car stayed silent. A passerby chuckled, stopped, and asked, Not speaking?
Its quiet, as usual, I replied automatically.
Let me have a look, the stranger offered, nudging me aside. I stepped backwhat else could I do? Let a stranger rummage through my car? If he could fix it, perhaps it would be my last hope before a tow.
Do you always go to the same garage? he asked.
Yes, I answered. Just three hundred metres from home. Very convenientdrop it off, pick it up in the morning.
The garage is a joke, he said with a grin. They never tightened the battery terminal. It slipped, the car died, and theyd have charged you a fortune. Got any tools?
I have something in the boot, I replied hesitantly.
When the terminal was snapped back into place, the engine roared to life.
I dont know how to thank you, I said.
Dont mention it, he waved.
Whats got you looking so glum? I asked.
He sighed heavily. Im a horse without a saddle now.
Could you drive me home? Im still shaking from the scare, I suggested. Otherwise Ill call a cab.
He agreed, and we chatted over tea hed brought alongjust in case.
During dinner I asked, Did your car break down?
He sighed again, Its always the ex. She took my daughter when we split.
Word by word, I learned Ians tragic tale. Hed been married to Claire for nearly twenty years, plus the years before they tied the knot. Their life was a mix of calm and storm, like any long marriage. Theyd had a son, raised him, dreamed of grandchildren. Summer holidays at the seaside, occasional trips to the inlaws cottage. It seemed ordinary, until Claire started claiming something was missingattention, understanding, love.
Ian tried to keep the romance alive: flowers, presents, the same gestures hed always used. But Claire grew distant, first moving him to the sofa, then ignoring him, finally filing for divorce after finding another man.
Divide the assets, Ian said. Nearly twenty years of shared property!
Their flat, a modest threebedroom house, had originally been a gift to Claires family. It required endless renovationsconcrete grinding, plastering, all the while they lived in a cramped premarriage flat Ian owned. The work was short-lived; Ian, a jackofalltrades, did most of it himself.
When we moved out, we let the old flat become a rental. A little extra income never hurt.
Hed taken a hefty mortgage to refurbish a new house for his son, and Claire had taken out a loan for a car that eventually became hers after the court split. Ians own mortgage remained, tied to his own debts and the sons property.
Why didnt he give the flat back to his son? I asked.
Claire told him not to let him in, Ian muttered. Now Im left with a £200,000 mortgage and no home.
I suggested, He could let his son move back, at least not onto the street.
He scoffed, Three times she told him not to let me in! She wont even give the flat back.
Now theyre both stuck. Im staying with friends, considering bankruptcy or moving to a council flat. My mortgage payments eat up seventy per cent of my salary. If we had been together, we might have managed, but now
Theres a strange compassion in me, a sort of Russianwomans pity for the unjustly wronged. I let Ian stay the night, gave him a spare room. In the morning he made breakfast, washed the dishes, even cleaned the stovetop. He lingered in the flat longer than expected, and two months later he was practically the owner of the landlords house.
I was amazed at how interesting Ian turned out to beour conversations about news, literature, film, music. In bed he held his own against younger men. I helped him clear his looming loan in two months; after all, Im an entrepreneur, and I was gearing up to expand my business when we met.
Good thing I helped my husband! I thought, though the gratitude from Ian knew no bounds. I never regretted the uneven marriagemoney will come, but the care, protection, tenderness, and love? Those are priceless.
That sentiment lasted until I found foreign womens clothes on a coat rack in the hallway. When I saw photos of Claire online, my heart ached to the point of tears. Yet I kept my composure in front of Ians ex.
Emily, dont be so upset, Ian tried to say. We had twenty years togethergood and bad. It just… happened.
Youre a traitor! I shouted. You betrayed me, you betrayed yourself! You threw her away and then forgave her! You never thought of me! When we married you only had debt! I gave you a car, cleared your loan, was ready to put a house in your name. And you repay me with with the woman who humiliated you!
He scratched his head, I get it, but understand me too. We were tired of the marriage, needed a break.
I nodded, acknowledging his point about the property. Thank you for paying off my loan, really.
He pleaded, Emily, Im sorry, but Im going back to her. We lived together for so long, you cant compare.
I stared at the floor, examining the linoleum for a moment. Give me the house keys, the car keys, the credit cardleave my flat immediately!
What?! Ian stammered.
Nothing, I snapped. If youre a fool, youll leave like one.
He huffed, but I was leaving the marriage with the debt cleared, thanks to me. And, strangely, it seemed to benefit both families, his and Claires.
Now Im thinking about maybe buying a cottage someday. Ill write more when the dust settles.
Emily.
