BITTERSWEET HAPPINESS
What have you got against that young lady? Shes a lovely girlmodest, tidy, smart, and she adores you, Margaret sighed, giving her son an exasperated look.
Mum, Ill handle it Olivers tone drew a line under the pointless conversation.
Margaret left the room, tutting to herself.
Hell handle it, he says… How many women has he been through now? Nearly forty, and still nothingnot one will ever be right for him. Always something not quite right, she thought, letting out a heavy sigh.
Come and have your lunch, love! Margaret called from the kitchen.
Oliver responded at once, tucking eagerly into his mothers shepherds pie.
Thanks, Mum. As delicious as always.
You really ought to be saying that to your wife, not me, Margaret grumbled, unable to drop the subject.
Mum Oliver drained his cup of tea, getting up to leave.
Hold on, son. You know, I remembered something. Years ago, I went to a fortune teller, and before Id even sat down, she said, Your son will have bittersweet happiness.
Oh, Mum, dont believe all that, Oliver laughed, flashing a smile.
Through the years, various women had wandered in and out of Olivers lifesome dear, others not so much.
Imogen had been clever, well-read, almost wise beyond her years. She was nine years younger and full of sound advice. At first, Oliver liked that, but in the end, Imogen felt more like an older siblingno spark, all a bit colourless. They parted ways.
Frances had an eight-year-old boy. Oliver tried, really tried, but couldn’t find a way to connect with him, though he was fond of Francesso beautiful, but with a fiery temperament he couldn’t handle. Every time he tried to smooth things overhis fault or hersit ended in silly gifts and sillier rows. Something was always missingprobably peace, or perhaps the comfort of routine.
Then there was Graceutterly ideal. Such women are rare as diamonds. Oliver was ready to marry her, certain she was right: pure, sensible, a woman youd wear kid gloves to converse with. He even moved into her flat, dreaming of childrenat least two.
And then… Came home early from a work trip and found Grace in bed with her old school friend. The oldest story in the book.
Back to Mums, Oliver swore off romance.
Ill just be on my own now. Solid arrangement. The loneliest household is often the sturdiest, he joked to Margaret, who could only shrug and sigh,
Will you never find the right one, Oliver?
But fate was there, lurking around the next corner.
Oliver caught another business tripanother train. He claimed his bottom bunk, only for a woman to appear in the compartment.
Excuse me, would you swap bunks, please? Could I have the lower one?
Not a problem, Oliver replied with a polite smile.
He gave her a glance overnothing special, except for that odd jolt in his chest. Could she be the one?
Taking the top bunk, he drifted into a doze.
How lovely youre awake. Come join me for a bite, chirped the stranger when he finally stirred.
Oliver hopped down, and conversation flowed as naturally as water.
Bethany, she introduced herself.
Oliver. Pleased to meet you, Bethany.
They talked all evening. It was simple and easy, as if hed known her all his life. No need to impress, no performancejust warmth. They swapped numbers, just in case.
Weeks later, Oliver heard Bethanys voice on the phone, and things finally started spinningthe meetings, the kisses, the promises. At forty years of age, he found he couldnt recall life without her. In the past, hed cut off relationships with easethis time, there were no boundaries, no edges left.
He wanted nothing more than to melt into Bethanys world.
She wrapped him in plain love, care, understanding. Three months after theyd met, Oliver offered marriagehis heart laid bare.
Oliver, Im seven years older than you, a widow, with three children. We live in a council house, Bethany admitted, honesty clear in her eyes.
I know, Beth. Ive met your little ones, and thats all decidedyoull move in with me. Thats that. I love youevery inch of you. Youre my last and only, Oliver said, kissing her.
All right, Oliver, lets give it a try, Bethany blushed.
No, Beth, not trywere together, always, he replied, taking her hand in his, You hear me? Always.
Margaret, learning Olivers plan, could only mutter,
Picked the most ordinary of them all, havent you?
Nine months later, a child was born to themgolden, bright, altogether speciala daughter.
Oliver oscillated between joy and worry for Bethany, praying she wouldnt buckle under the weight.
Life with a special child isnt easyendless challenges, endless wonder.
Now their daughter is eight, and the whole family dotes on her.
Oliver adores Bethanybittersweet, but happiness nonetheless.
