Love Yourself, and Everything Will Be Fine
Outside, the wind was howling, and heavy snow swept across the garden wall. It was bitterly cold and grey, much like my mood. I sat alone in this cavernous old house, filled with everything one could wish for except companionship. My wife, Emily, exists only in the echoes of daily routine, my children have both grown and gone, and even the family pet is just a fading memory.
Emilys presence remains, of courseas does her absence. We’ve shared decades together, but tonight she’s away again, visiting friends. I know what those visits truly mean. I tell myself its work-related, but deep down the hollowness stings just the same.
My son, Thomas, married years ago and settled a few boroughs over. He gets on well enoughbusy with his own family, rarely finding time for old Dad. My daughter, Charlotte, lives up near Manchester now, far from our corner in Surrey. She studied at university there, met her husband, and now together theyre raising their own little girl, Sophie.
I spoke to Charlotte earlier today over the phone.
Dad, why do you sound so glum? she nudged, always tuned in to my moods. Has something happened?
No, darling, nothing at all. How are things your end? And hows my lovely granddaughter?
Oh, everythings grand, Dad! Olivers up to his ears in workyou know what its like for doctors. He says being a surgeon suits him, even if the hours are long. Sophies nearly ready for nursery now, shes growing like a weed!
Im glad to hear it, love. I hope everything carries on just as well for you, I replied, forcing a brightness my voice couldnt carry.
Charlotte hesitated. Dad you still dont sound right. And wheres Mum?
I lied. Shes about, probably in the shed fussing over her roses. Its cold out, so shes checking everythings all right.
The truth is, for over six months now Ive carried this turmoil alone, unsure who to confide in or whether I should. Some would pity me, others might say I deserve it, or worse, silently take pleasure in my misfortune.
I remember the summerEmily in the flowerbeds, fussing beneath the kitchen window, and me inside, unaware anyone was listening. That was the first time I got confirmation of the truth. I had thought I was alone in the house. My voice carried through the window on a calltoo soft, too sweet to anyone but Emily.
All right, darling no, I cant come by tonight, but I miss you too. Yes, of course I love you. Dont worry, Ill see you tomorrow, you know I always keep my promises.
I hung up. Unaware I was heard by the one person who mattered most.
The weight of guilt hit me like a ton of bricks. I could hear her sobs through the open window, though she tried to hide them. I was a foolbelieved in, trusted utterly, and now Id failed her.
She didnt speak to me about it that day, or in the weeks that followed. She kept everything bottled inside. What kind of man was I?
By autumn, shed pieced together the story, finding out who the other woman washer name was Bethany, a distant acquaintance, someone Emily knew from community events. A reputation, it turned out, that preceded her. Bethany lived in the flats on Pemberton Roadthe type everyone called the Square. Emily, ever the detective, quietly sleuthed until she found her address. Well-meaning neighbours whispered stories, disapproval ringing through every word.
Its not a secret, love, said Vera next door, Bethanys always had a way with men. Shes pretty, no doubt, but shes never settlednever married, no children. Always seems restless, says she just cant find a man who sticks around.
Emily took it all in stoically, but I saw the strain. The next I knew, she went over to confront Bethany herself. She turned up at her door one November afternoon with a weight pressing down on her shoulders.
I heard what happened only later, pieced together from conversations and awkward silences. Emily let herself in, refusing any pleasantries, and sat right on the battered sofa.
Do you not feel ashamed? she said, her voice trembling. To be with another womans husband? There are plenty of single men. Surely you know happiness built on misery never lasts.
Bethany broke down in tears. I cant explain itI love him, and I cant imagine life without him, she blubbered.
Emily, unable to contain her anger, slapped her. Forgive me. This madness just overtook me Bethany sobbed.
Both women cried that day, and when they were calm again, Emily told her, Dont tell him I came. But if you see him again, dont be surprised at what may follow.
Life carried on with brittle normality. Emily kept her silence; I never dared ask what truly passed between them. But from that day, a gulf lingered between usone I pretended not to notice, fearing to face the depths of my own choices.
How was I to go on? The children had their own lives, and even if I could tell them, what would they think of their father? There was a time Emily and I were oneinseparable, with little in our pockets but hope and each other. We would spend our last pounds on cinema tickets, just to share laughter, surviving on love and borrowed time.
Now, we had everything, and yet nothing to say.
I tried to focus on the good in life: the business ticking over, the familiar routines. But every time Emily answered the phone with that tired voice, I remembered what I had broken. I wanted to fix it all, but didnt know where to start.
One blustery winters night, as darkness swallowed the village, I arrived home to find Emily sitting silent, lost in thought, the house awash in shadows.
Em, you about? Why are you sitting here in the dark? I flicked on the kitchen light, surprised to find she hadnt bothered.
Im here, she said quietly. Just thinking. Winter gets to me sometimes, thats all.
Tell me about it. Roads are a nightmare, nearly got stuck in a drift. I washed my hands in the usual way, hungry for supper, but more for normalcy.
She fussed about, serving dinner, while I watched her with a half-smile, remembering happier years.
Between mouthfuls, I said, Listen, New Years round the corner… I thought Id surprise you.
Her shoulders tensed. She doesnt trust surprises anymore.
What is it? she asked, barely breathing.
I left the table for the hallway and came back holding a pair of tickets. How does a seaside holiday for just you and me sound? I bought us tickets to Cornwallwell ring in the New Year by the sea, just like we talked about when we were young.
For the first time in a long while, her eyes brightened. The heaviness fell away, if only for a moment.
Are you serious, John? Down to Cornwall, in the dead of winter? The sea and the cliffs? I never imaginedoh, Id love that, she laughed, a warmth in her voice I hadnt heard in months.
Thought youd say yes. Truth is, Thomas nudged me to do thisbut Id been thinking it myself. We both need a change, Em, somewhere to start again.
We went, and it was magical. The New Year came, and we walked along the windy Cornish shore, wrapped up against the cold, hand in hand, letting the past slip into the roaring waves.
Since then, life has taken a turn. Emily comes alive againshe smiles more, and though we never speak of what happened, theres a softness that wasnt there before. I go straight home each night, and if I am late, I always ring ahead so she doesnt worry.
If Ive learned anything through all of this, its that happiness starts with yourself. You have to find respect for your own heartbefore you can ever hope to heal anothers. It was a hard lesson, but I would not trade it for blind comfort. I hope, in time, I can truly deserve Emily again.
