A Difficult Happiness
On Friday, the head accountant arrived at work dressed elegantly, carrying a bottle of expensive wine, a cake, and a package of deli meats.
“Ladies, don’t rush off after work—let’s stay a little while and celebrate my birthday,” she announced.
Everyone immediately crowded around to hug and congratulate her. Emily joined in as well. She had started at the company inexperienced, enduring plenty of scolding for mistakes, but she genuinely considered Marilyn her mentor. Marilyn embraced Emily and whispered in her ear:
“I’ll work a little longer, then retire. Emily, I’m planning to recommend you for my position. I’m sure you’ll manage—you’re disciplined, responsible…”
Before Emily could thank her for the trust, another colleague stepped forward with congratulations.
They finished work early, cleared a large table in the head accountant’s office, covered it with a paper tablecloth, and set out whatever food was in the fridge. The director and department heads joined the celebration, presenting Marilyn with a bouquet of roses and a gift. The noise swelled again, and Emily slipped out unnoticed.
“Where are you off to? We’ve only just sat down,” her colleague and friend Linda caught up with her in the hallway.
“I have to go—my father’s home alone.”
“Stay just a bit longer, half an hour at most. Nothing’s going to happen to him in that time,” Linda insisted.
“Don’t try to persuade me. He hates it when I’m late—he’ll get worried, his blood pressure will spike. At his age, that’s dangerous.”
“What age? How old is he?”
“Seventy-one,” Emily sighed.
“That’s hardly old—some men that age fall in love and remarry!”
“Honestly, Linda, I have to go. Apologise for me.” Emily turned to leave, but Linda caught her hand.
“You’ve trapped yourself. You’re still young, with no personal life. Is that normal? Doesn’t your father want you to have a family? Grandchildren?”
“What grandchildren? I’m forty-two already…”
“So? You’ve given up too soon. At this rate, you’ll go before he— Oh, sorry.” Linda faltered, seeing Emily’s disapproving look. “But who else will tell you the truth? Is he ill?”
“No, just afraid of dying alone.”
“I don’t understand you, Em. Your mother spent her whole life dancing around him. And where is she now? Now it’s your turn—”
“Enough. It’s my life.” Emily pulled her hand away and hurried to her office to collect her coat. Linda watched her go with pity.
Outside, the air smelled of spring, the last snow melting, the buds on the trees nearly ready to burst. On her way home, Emily stopped at the shop. The queue at the till was long. She checked her watch—she’d left work early, had time. Relaxing slightly, she waited.
At home, she made noise in the hallway to alert her father. She carried the groceries to the kitchen, then entered the living room. He lay on the sofa, watching TV.
“Dad, I’m home. What are you watching?”
The way he glared at the screen told her he was displeased. When was he ever pleased?
“How are you feeling?” she asked patiently.
“Took your time coming home, didn’t you? Always thinking of fun, never of me. My blood pressure’s up—I’ll drop dead, and you won’t even notice,” he grumbled, shooting her a dark look.
“What fun? I just stopped at the shop for five minutes. Here—” She fetched the blood pressure monitor and returned.
“Give me your arm.”
He didn’t move.
“Don’t be childish. Stop being stubborn.”
Reluctantly, he extended his arm. She fastened the cuff and pumped.
“You’re imagining things—your pressure’s perfect.”
“You don’t know how to measure. I can feel it,” he muttered.
Emily knew he wasn’t young anymore, that he needed care—he’d worked construction his whole life. But that didn’t mean he could spend all day on the sofa.
“Should I call the doctor tomorrow?”
“What do they know? Just hand out pills. Useless.”
Emily put the monitor away and retreated to her room to change. Later, as she cooked dinner, she argued with him in her head.
*I’d like to rest too. Staring at a screen all day, my eyes ache. I could be sitting with my colleagues, eating cake, drinking wine. They’re offering me a promotion, and I ran away. What if Marilyn is offended?*
*I’m an adult—I’m tired of you controlling me, criticising everything. You could at least walk to the shop next door. Linda’s right—I’ll make myself sick like this. I have no strength left…*
She stopped herself—it wasn’t right to think like that, even if he couldn’t hear. Who knew how she’d feel at his age? Maybe she’d be worse. But for whom?
She remembered her mother doing everything—cleaning, cooking, hauling heavy shopping bags. Her father believed housework wasn’t a man’s job, especially with two women in the house. Never mind that the second “woman” had been a child.
She couldn’t recall her mother ever lounging. She was always sewing, knitting, cooking… As Emily grew older, she helped.
“Emily, go play. You’ll have plenty of work once you’re married,” her mother would say, pitying her.
When Emily brought her fiancé, Daniel, home, her father scrutinised him before declaring he wouldn’t tolerate freeloaders under his roof. He’d earned everything himself—no inheritance here.
Daniel barely held his tongue before leaving. Later, he insisted they’d never live with her parents. After the wedding, they rented a flat. Emily visited often, trying to help her mother, who frequently had high blood pressure.
Daniel grew jealous, refusing to believe she was with her parents—they argued constantly. When her mother passed from a stroke, Emily began visiting her father daily. Daniel left, filing for divorce. Later, he tried to return, but by then Emily had moved in with her father.
She’d rebelled before, but it always ended the same—her father feigning a heart attack, begging for an ambulance. She’d burn with shame as paramedics scolded her for the false alarm—his health was fine.
If she stayed late, he’d greet her with insults. Men had courted her, but she couldn’t abandon her father or bring a man home. So she stayed—no family, no children.
After dinner, she washed the dishes and mopped the hallway. Fresh mud on her father’s shoes meant he did go out while she worked. She said nothing, just retreated to her room, tuning out the blaring TV.
Once, Linda snapped, “I can’t watch you waste your life anymore.” She bought tickets—they’d go to the coast in June. No excuses—she’d drag Emily if needed.
“But what about Dad?”
“He’s healthier than you. Prep his meals, ask a neighbour to check on him. It’s ten days—you need this.”
Emily couldn’t refuse. She’d only been to the coast once, years ago with Daniel. As the trip neared, she wavered—until the night before, when she finally told her father.
Predictably, he cursed her, accusing her of wanting him dead. For once, she cut him off sharply.
“Even maids get holidays. You won’t die in ten days. I’ve left meals. Mrs. Thompson upstairs will check on you. I’ve given her keys—since you wouldn’t open the door. And stop pretending about your blood pressure—I know you go out. The shop’s next door if you need anything. I’ve written down your pills.”
Her father gaped, stunned by her defiance. She locked herself in her room until Linda and her husband arrived. Their train left at 2 a.m.
On the journey, Emily fretted—but seeing the sea, she forgot everything. Within days, she’d tanned, glowing with youth.
“There you are—that’s the Emily I remember. Men can’t stop staring.”
“Where?” She turned, spotting a tall, fit man watching her. His face seemed familiar—and when he approached with a smile, she recognised him: James, her university classmate.
“James!” she beamed. “Are you here with family?”
“My wife passed—long illness. My daughter insisted I take a break. And you? Still with Daniel?”
“You remember him?”
“Of course. I was in love with you—he waited outside lectures every day.”
Emily had been so infatuated with Daniel, she’d noticed nothing else.
“We divorced. I live with my father.”
“You say that like it’s a prison sentence.”
“His temper’s… difficult. Linda basically dragged me here. Funny—we live in the same city but meet here.”
“Fate,” James said.
They spent every day together. Linda made excuses to leave them alone.
On the day they returned home, Emily moved in with James, her father found companionship with Mrs. Thompson, and for the first time in years, they all knew what it truly meant to be happy.
