Mom, are you the spare one?
Which flat? The one on the fourth floor?
Im the spare, Emma Foster admitted, cheeks burning with shame.
Then come to my place! a former classmate blurted out, sudden as a bolt.
Lilly, Fisher, is that you? a gruff voice called out to Emma.
Yes, Im Fisher, the woman replied, though shed been Emma Fisher since the divorce, having kept her exhusbands name. How did he know it?
And Im Sam Leighton! the stranger shouted cheerfully. Dont you recognize me? I spotted you instantly you havent changed a bit!
Mark had walked out after their second child was born, claiming Emma hadnt given him room to grow.
It was the wild 90s. No one talked about personal development; everyone was just trying to survive. The internet was a rumor, coaches were a myth. Mark left, and Emma was left with two children the baby still nursing.
The first thought was to end it all, any way she could. But reason, mercifully, won out.
Dad stepped in: his factory in Sheffield had folded, and he was laid off. The engineer became a babysitter.
They scraped by, almost starving. Emma was the sole earner. Marks child support was a joke, and everything else rose in geometric progression.
When the younger turned one, Emma began importing fur coats from abroad. Money eased a little.
Together they lifted the children, even managed to give them a free education.
Their children now had families of their own. The first, Lily, announced, Im pregnant, Mum! Youll be a grandma soon!
Joy burst into the flat, as they say.
Everything would have been fine if not for Marks daughter moving into the twobedroom flat that Emmas father had been given at the factory in the seventies. By then, the parents were gone. Back then a small tworoom flat was a palace; it even had a storage room and a balcony.
Now Emma had to share a bedroom with her son, and later Sergei brought his lover home. Weve filed the papers! they declared.
It sounded noble, but the harsh prose of life took over: there was nowhere for Mom to sleep!
While the lover crashed on the sofa, it was still tolerable; a folding cot fit both the kitchen and the storeroom yes, the storeroom!
Emma flatout refused to sleep in the kitchen; it was, in her eyes, humiliating. The storeroom remained.
Just leave the door open and everything will be fine, her son and daughter urged, eyes sincere, dont lock Mom in with us, we promise!
And after fifty years, the storeroom wasnt so bad.
For a couple of days Emma kept the door ajar, but then she saw her own clothes, tossed from the wardrobe, and trinkets strewn about. She was finally exiled there.
By then Sergei was married. You have to understand, Mum, we cant afford a separate flat. Sorry
Emma tried to be useful: cooking, cleaning. They pushed her into the storeroom like an old mutt.
The prospect of forever among cans and boxes was mortifying. Shed raised a son and a daughter, and that was all anyone ever said.
She had little cash; she taught English at the local secondary school and did occasional tutoring, but it never covered a decent rent. The free storeroom was her only space.
One bleak morning she grabbed her purse passport, paycard and walked out, sitting on the bench outside her block, hoping some constructive idea would strike.
She had no lessons the next day; she could linger until the carrots in the garden wilted.
A voice called out again, Lilly, Fisher, is that you?
Yes, Im Fisher, she repeated, her maiden name gone, her married name lingering.
And Im Sam Leighton! the stranger shouted again. Dont you recognize me? You havent changed a bit!
Dont lie, you havent changed at all! Youve changed so much! Emma thought, now truly Emma Foster.
Time, that good healer and bad cosmetic, had taken its toll. The handsome class hero had become a bald, plump old man. She imagined she wasnt any better.
How many years had passed? Twenty? At a reunion they could still recognise each other. Shed once been smitten with him at school, even asked him to the proms slow dance.
Hed married a bossy daughter of some party official, a careerclimber.
What are you doing out here? Its cold! Dont freeze! Alex laughed, his humor the very thing that had made her swoon.
The school friend struck a pose, the benches filled with drunks.
What are you doing in this neighbourhood? Emma asked, shifting the conversation. You moved, didnt you?
Just visiting the grandkids. They live in my old flat. Im heading home. You? Still in the same old place? I remember the fourth floor!
Lets go together, remember the school, Fisher? And that slow dance at graduation, he urged.
Did you ever remember him? the older woman asked, puzzled.
Which one? Alex replied, You disappeared after school, didnt you?
I vanished? Emma protested. Its because you started seeing that monkey.
Dont mix cause and effect, Fisher. You left first, then I started dating the monkey! Alex corrected. So, where are you headed?
Emma whispered, Nowhere. and began to weep.
Nowhere? the suitor asked, flustered. You have no home?
It seems I dont. she whispered.
And the flat? The one on the fourth?
Im the spare, Emma confessed, mortified.
Then come to my flat! the former classmate offered abruptly.
Wheres the wife? Hell bring some woman home, not let me stay on the street! Emma demanded.
Were divorced from that monkey ages ago. Come, lift your chin! I wont harass you, he said, extending his hand.
He pulled her up from the bench. Shall we go? My cars just around the corner.
They drove off.
His flat turned out surprisingly cosy, and Sam kept his word no unwanted advances.
Only the first two months were smooth; then he proposed marriage.
At fiftythree, why not? Hed always liked a lively laugh, and Emmas slow dance was forever etched in his memory.
Emma agreed, as any sensible realtor would.
The children never called. At first she waited anxiously, then just waited, and finally she focused on wedding plans, on family life.
She never told the kids about the marriage. No grand ceremony, just a quiet café with four witnesses relatives were absent, but at least it was explained.
Later, Emma deleted her sons and daughters numbers.
If they hadnt thought of her in all that time, she wasnt needed, just as smart coaches teach you to declutter.
A mother became an unwanted item in her own childrens lives.
If thats the case, they didnt need her either. Brutal? Yes. Fair? Also.
Eight months had passed since Emma left the house. The New Year holidays loomed, and Emma and her new husband went shopping at the supermarket.
A sharp cry rang out: Mum! her daughter lunged at Emmas neck, while her son bounded beside them, smiling.
They embraced, and Emma asked, Why the strange pair?
Because the brother and sister never shopped together before either solo or with partners.
Were always this odd pair now! the embarrassed Sergei explained.
Both had divorced!
Immediately? Emma asked, surprised. Youre quick!
Just because, Sergei shrugged, and you nailed it with the word quick.
Theyd arrived unannounced, catching Emma, Lilys husband and Sergeis wife together, lovers in a decidedly undiscreet tableau.
When will you be back, Mum? the son asked impatiently, Now everything will be fine!
And where have you been? the daughter added, Weve missed you!
Why did you only realise now? a strange man, a plump fellow with a newlypolished coat, interjected. You were going to be together for years before Lily even recognized you!
Whats it to you? Sergei snapped, Youre meddling with Lily
Then when are you coming back? the man pressed.
Yes, the daughter replied, Sergei wont lift a finger around the house, can you imagine? And Im juggling a baby!
She tried a joke, You raised a decent son!
The joke fell flat. The strange man calmly retorted, Show your teaching skills, reeducate the little goat, or well all be critics!
Who are you, anyway? the daughter demanded.
Im the husband in the drab coat! he announced proudly.
The coat was indeed drab, and Emma now wore something new all her money had gone to their clothes.
What husband? the children gasped in unison.
Just an ordinary bloke, spouse vulgaris! the brash man declared. So Mum wont return. Shes got her own life now!
Dont you want to be a grandma? Lily asked hopeful.
Milly wants to be a wife, thats far nicer. Besides, why would I share a bed with a grandma? the man joked, then added, Nice meeting you, now were off!
What about us? Sergei whispered.
And youll probably go too, the husband sneered.
Emma never spoke, only smiled faintly with the corners of her mouth.
The man took Emma by the arm, Ready to fly?
And they vanished.
The bewildered children stared, stunned.
Later, after Emma and Sam had shopped and were heading home, Sam asked, Hows the suit? Too tight? Enough air? Cant breathe?
Both knew the reference suit was a nod to Alexander, the name meaning defender. He truly was their protector.
Could love suffocate? No one had ever loved her that way.
Emma thought she finally had a suit that fit a spacesuit, ready for the cosmos. It was never too late.
Ready to fly?
And they flew.
