BITTERSWEET HAPPINESS
What is it you dont like about this young lady? Shes a lovely girlmodest, tidy, studies hard, and loves you, my mother, Eleanor Green, said to me with that familiar look of disappointment.
Mum, Ill sort it out myself I replied, putting an end to yet another pointless conversation.
She shuffled out of the room, no doubt mulling over my words. I could almost hear her thoughts, Hell sort it out, will he? Gone through so many women, nearly forty, and hes still picky At this rate, hell end up alone. Nothing ever suits him, not really
Son, come for dinner, Mum called from the kitchen.
I responded straight away, taking my spot at the table and eagerly tucking into her shepherds pie.
Thanks, Mum, you never fail, I said gratefully.
You ought to be saying that to your wife, not to your mother, at your age, she sighed, her restlessness undiminished.
Mum I finished my cup of tea and was about to leave when she stopped me.
Wait a minute, James. You know, I just rememberedonce I visited a fortune teller. Soon as I walked in, she told me, Your son will have bittersweet happiness.
Oh, Mum, dont believe all that, I grinned.
Throughout my life, Id had romantic entanglements of varying seriousness.
Emma was bright, well-read, and wise beyond her years. She was nine years younger than me and often gave me practical advice. At first, I liked it, but soon I saw her more as a helpful friend than anything else. The relationship fadedthere was no spark. We went our separate ways.
Charlotte had an eight-year-old son. Try as I might, I couldnt connect with the lad. I thought I cared for Charlotteshe was beautiful, but fiery. Arguments were frequent, and whenever I tried to smooth things over, Id buy her gifts. In the end, something fundamental was missingperhaps peace, or just the feeling of home.
Then there was Grace, the model of perfection. I was nearly ready to marry her. She seemed faultlesspure, wise, sensible. She was so proper you felt you had to speak to her with white gloves on. I even moved in with her, picturing childrenat least two.
But then, one work trip later, I came home to find her in bed with an old friend from school. A story as old as time.
I moved back in with Mum and decided enough was enough with the romance.
Ill be a bachelor. Not such a bad deal. The strongest familys made of just one, Id tell Mum, half-jokingly.
Shed just shake her head and sigh, Surely youll find your fate one day, son
And so my fate did find mewhen I least expected it.
It happened on another work trip. On the train, I went to settle into my lower bunk when a woman appeared.
Excuse me, would you mind swapping bunks? Could I have your bottom one, please? she asked kindly.
No trouble at all, I replied.
I took in her appearancenothing extraordinary. But something tugged at my heart. Was this fate?
I clambered onto the upper bunk and dozed off.
Glad youve woken! Do join me at the tablehelp yourself, the stranger chirped.
I climbed down, and we struck up a conversation.
Rebecca, she said, introducing herself.
James. Pleased to meet you, Rebecca.
We talked all evening. It all felt so natural with herno posturing, no attempts at charm. Like Id known her forever.
We swapped phone numbers, just in case.
A few weeks passed, and I found myself longing to hear Rebeccas voice.
Soon enough, things began to blossommeetings, kisses, promises
By forty, I couldnt imagine life without her. Other women had drifted out of my life easily. But Rebeccathere were no boundaries, no limits.
I wanted to be fully woven into her life.
Rebecca wrapped me in warmth, understanding, and love Id never known.
After three months, I asked her to marry me, laying it all out on the table.
James, Im seven years older than you. Ive got three childrenwe live in a council flat, Rebecca said honestly, never one for lies.
And youre a widow. Rebecca, I know it all. Ive met your kids. Youll all move in with me. Ive decided. I love every part of you. Youre my chance meeting, my last woman, I said, kissing her gently.
Alright, James, lets give it a try, Rebecca blushed.
No, not try, Rebecca. Well be togetheralways, I said, holding her hand, Do you hear me? Always.
When Mum learned of my plans, the only thing she could muster was, Well youve certainly picked a plain one, havent you
Nine months later, Rebecca gave birth to a child with Downs syndromea daughter.
We all doted on her, and in those months, I felt pride mixed with worry, hoping Rebecca wouldnt be broken by the challenge.
A child with Downs is no simple thing.
Now, our daughter is eight. The whole family cherishes her.
And I, for one, worship the ground Rebecca walks on.
It is happiness, but of the bittersweet varietya lesson that joy can wear many faces.
