Divorce Because of the Neighbour
Just explain to me, will you? Out of all the women in the world, why her? Honestly, leaving me for herwhy?
Eleanor was up against Hilary in every department and losing spectacularly. She half-expected James at least to come up with something classic, like, Shes just more fun, less bossy, doesnt nitpick every cup of tea, unlike you.
How could he, Ellie? How could he? You and James always seemed so happy wailed her mum, her sister, and a whole parade of thoroughly supportive friends when word got out about the impending split.
We were, agreed Eleanor. But not anymore.
Eleanor, you need to think this through, love. Thirty times, if necessary. Good blokes are rare. Hes got a decent job, adores the kids, and he doesnt even want to divorce you piped up an old auntie.
That particular gem earned the speaker a lifetime banfrom Facebook, WhatsApp, the Christmas card list, and life in general.
Even Maureen from work, who used to get invited for a cheeky takeaway and a natter, now only received a curt nod and a Morning, accompanied by entirely unnecessary eye contact.
When Maureen insisted on offering unsolicited Lets save your marriage pep talks, Eleanor gave her both barrels, telling her exactly what she thought about advice she wouldnt touch with a ten-foot pole, and any attempt to force her back to a man whod gone off somewhere he frankly shouldnt.
Yes, GONE OFF, with emphasis and hand gestures! Eleanor still couldnt quite square it in her mind.
Theyd had a good run! Twenty years together. University sweethearts. Theyd gotten through enough saltas Granny used to sayto run Brightons winter roads for a decade. Together, theyd weathered skint years, redundancies, kids measles, and their own fair share of midlife colds and sore backs.
Two kidsa proper boy and girl set. House tidy, a roast on Sundays, never a headache (and everyone knows what thats code for). Eleanor kept herself together, never used James as a cashpoint, always found time for himeven after the kids, he wasnt left sobbing into his Pot Noodle. What more did that man want, for goodness sake?
And thenwham! He strays.
And its not even with someone twenty years youngerno, that she could almost have understood. But hes run off with Deborah, the divorcee next door with a kid, the sort who picks up her Tesco delivery in her pyjamas and seems to own every variety of patterned cleaning cloth there is.
Just tell me, what exactly have you found in her?
Eleanor alternated between laughing and sobbing when the truth came out. She demanded answers from James, who stood there like a startled hedgehog.
Just explain: out of all the women in the world, why her? Why leave me, to be with Deborah next door?
Hilary was losing, hands down. If only James would say something like, Shes got a bit of spark, you know, not so strict!well then. At least thered be a reason, character differences, something to chew over in awkward family therapy.
But no. He couldnt even offer that.
Was it a drunken escapade? Not even. Sober as the judge at the Old Bailey.
All he managed was a sheepish, It just… happened, complete with a soulful plea to let him come back and sleep on the guest sofa, and a sudden fondness for grovelling.
To everyones surpriseincluding her ownJames hadnt actually planned a nice, clean split from Eleanor, with some sort of happy-ever-after with Deborah. No, he had imagined he could nip off, have a dalliance, and bounce back home to Eleanor, hoping shed never notice, as if Deborah was a questionable purchase from a charity shop.
And perhaps it might have worked, if it werent for Deborah getting pregnant and deciding that it was high time both her and her previous offspring had a dad around. She turned up at Eleanors in a righteous strop.
Eleanor didnt believe it at first. Who would? After twenty years together, she knew every mole on Jamess back and every one of his ill-thought-out romantic gestures. No one knew him betteror so she thought.
Only Deborah knew, toodown to the birthmarks and the shape of that silly scar from years ago. Lets face it, you dont get that sort of detail unless youve seen someone in less than their Sunday best.
So, it was true. James, trapped in a corner, had to admit everything and begged for forgiveness like a bad labrador.
To Eleanors surprise, suddenly there was a small but noisy crowd arguing his case. Not shared friends, but workfolk, her mate Janet, a distant cousin, and even Maureen, who up till now eyed James like something she wouldnt want in her shopping basket.
Everyone began chanting the age-old proverb: Forgive, forget, keep him at homewhats a bit of infidelity among family, eh?! She could barely believe it.
Her mother-in-law was the loudest cheerleader for family unity: Youll regret it, love. No good comes from being stubborn. Lifes miserable without a man about.
She even tried to rope in the kids at first, saying, Go on, tell your mum you want your dad to stay. Pointless and grubby, but at least you could spot the logicit was family self-preservation.
As for the otherswho knew why they cared? Was it just the British crab basket syndrome? Were all stuck in the brown stuff, so you should be too, dear. Maybe they just needed the drama.
Eleanor wasnt having it.
She wasthanks to dearly departed Dadwell-drilled in one lesson. Often repeated over garden barbecues and cheese-on-toast suppers:
If they call you selfish and keep telling you to make sacrifices because its whats done or because thats what God wants, dont fall for it, love. Thats them wanting an easy ride.
Dads words stuck like a bit of Marmite under the fridge. Over the years, shed noticed that as soon as someone started shaming or guilting you into being the bigger person, it was because they wanted something, plain and simple.
She wasnt in the market for being manipulated. And, it turned out, neither were the kids. Barbarathe mother-in-lawphoned asking Eleanor to force the kids to unblock her messages and resume their Sunday chats.
She was doing my head in, explained her daughter, Harriet, over tea.
Her son Ned was out at his girlfriends, so Harriet answered for them both.
All she talked about was getting you two back together. Not once. Not twice. Repeatedly. I told her, Sort yourselves out without us. Didnt stop, so I blocked her until she resets herself to proper granny mode.
Thank you, love, Eleanor replied. I know this isnt easy, and I appreciate that youre not falling for all this emotional blackmail.
Well, Im not thick, said Harriet. I get what Dads done. If youd split because you couldnt agree on a summer holiday or curtains for the lounge, maybe you could patch things up. But cheating? Thats just not on, is it? And he knew it. So what did he expect? What does Grandma wantmiracles?
Eleanor didnt have the answers. Two months ago, shed have sworn she did. Now? Not a clue. How do you explain when you cant even work it out yourself? How does a man behave like the perfect husband for two decades and then throw it all away for the neighbours lasagne?
Midlife crisis? ventured her best friend. But if James was having one, he should have just bought a classic car or started jogginginstead, he chose to collect complications involving Deborah and her impressive array of tea towels.
Apparently, James still had plenty of mysterious urges, whether in his heart (or his trousers), to unleash on his former family.
And, five years post-divorce, he found the most remarkable new way to demonstrate his charm and witBut Eleanor didnt waste another minute pining for a miracle. One Wednesday evening, after a peaceful solo walk that ended at her favourite café, she slid into a window seat and exhaled, feeling the weird, giddy freedom of a woman with her own decisions at last. She ordered cake because nobody was there to tut about calories, and when the waitress brought two forks by mistake, she laughed and left them both, just because she could.
She finally messaged Jamesnot with any appeal, not with any rage, just a single, crisp line: I wish you and Deborah luck. Please arrange your solicitor to finalise things. Im finished living in someone elses tug-of-war.
The sky outside looked ridiculously hopeful, streaked with evening gold. Eleanor scrolled through her phone, deleting old couples photos with a swipe, pausing only over one from the kids last birthday. She tapped out a new group chather, Harriet, and Ned, no cousins, no grannies, no one else to tell them who they were supposed to be. Friday? Pizza and films at ours. Pajamas compulsory. No drama, no dads.
Harriet replied instantly with an all-caps YES. Ned sent a row of pizza emojis. For the first time in weeks, Eleanor smiled without any bitterness at all.
As she walked home, the world quieter and simpler than itd felt in years, she realised she wasnt in competition anymore with Deborah, or anyone else. There wasnt a contest left to win or losejust her own life to live, messy and sharp and brimming with untested possibility.
Outside her front door, she paused, looked at the dark window next door and the tangled garden gnomes patrolling Deborahs weeds. She could almost wish them well. Everyone wanted a second chance, after all. Let them have theirs.
Eleanor stepped inside, dropped her bag, and turned on musicher music, loud, bold, not caring if it bled through the walls. She danced, arms overhead, grinning at her own reflection in the darkened glass, letting possibility whirl right alongside her.
The thing with endings, she supposed, was that sometimes, if you were brave enough to claim your own, you didnt just get closureyou got a beginning you never knew youd been waiting for.
