It never crossed Eleanors mind to suggest that Stephen move in with her. Dating was one thing, but sharing a home was quite another. That Saturday, she waited for him to arrive for their usual stroll. When she opened the door, her breath caughtthere he stood, gripping two large suitcases.
Eleanor settled into her armchair, flipping through old photos on her phone. There they were, feeding ducks in Hyde Park. Another of them walking along the Thames. And one from their mushroom-picking trip in the countryside. Six months had slipped by unnoticed.
Theyd met on a dating site. She was sixty-one, he sixty-threeboth divorced, with grown children living their own lives. Stephen had charmed her straight away: cultured, well-read, with a dry wit. He wasnt looking for a mother to his children or a housekeeper. Just companionship with someone interesting.
They met two or three times a weekthe theatre, galleries, cafés. Walks through London, visits to her friends cottage in the Cotswolds. Eleanor liked the ease of it, the closeness without obligation.
“Eleanor, tell me about your life,” Stephen had asked early on.
“Quiet, peaceful. Ive lived alone five years now. Im used to it.”
“Dont you get lonely?”
“Sometimes. But I have friends. My daughters visit. And now theres you.”
“Thats nice to hear.”
After his divorce, Stephen rented a cramped flat in an old building. He grumbled about the fussy landlady, the peeling wallpaper, the rent creeping up.
“What can you do?” hed sigh. “No place of my own. The ex-wife kept everythingher parents bought it, and good luck proving I paid for the renovations.”
“Have you thought of buying something?”
“Where would I get that kind of money?”
Eleanor understood. Her three-bedroom flat in Kensington had taken a lifetimes work. With her daughters long gone, there was space to spare.
Yet it never occurred to her to invite Stephen in. Dating was one thing. Living together? Entirely another.
That Saturday, when she opened the door to find him with suitcases, her stomach lurched.
“Stephen, whats happened?”
“Eleanor, may I come in? Ill explain.”
They moved to the sitting room. He left the cases in the hall and sank onto the sofa.
“The landladys selling up. Gave me a weeks notice.”
“And now?”
“Now Ive nowhere to go. Cant find another flat straight off, and I havent the funds.”
Eleanor saw where this was headed.
“Eleanor, Ive been thinkingweve been serious for half a year. We know each other. Why not try living together?”
“Together?”
“Yes. Youve room enough. Im not looking for a free rideIll contribute.”
“Stephen, weve never discussed this.”
“Why discuss it in advance? Lifes decided for us.”
Eleanor floundered. She wasnt ready for this.
“I need time to think.”
“Think about what? We love each other.”
“Loving someone and living with them arent the same.”
“Why not? At our age, its time to commit.”
“Commit to what?”
“To this. If were dating, we should be together.”
Eleanor eyed the suitcases. Hed made the choice for her, arrived packed, presented it as fact.
“And if I refuse?”
“Refuse happiness?”
“Refuse someone moving in without asking.”
“Dont be cross. I meant well. Circumstances forced my hand.”
“Circumstances dont force. People do.”
“Whats that supposed to mean?”
“That you shouldve asked before hauling your life to my doorstep.”
Stephen fell quiet, weighing his words.
“Fine. Lets talk now. Im proposing we live together.”
“And Im refusing.”
“Why?”
“Because I like my solitude. I enjoy our time, but I dont want to share my home.”
“But we suit each other.”
“For outings, for fun. Not for daily life.”
“Whats the difference?”
“The difference is that daily life is compromise. Habits, routines, bending to someone else.”
“So? Wed adjust.”
“Thats just itI dont want to adjust. Im happy as I am.”
Stephen looked wounded.
“What if I proposed properly? Marriage?”
“Why?”
“Why? To do things right.”
“Stephen, marriage changes nothing. I still wouldnt want to live together.”
“Then whats the point of us?”
“The same as before. We meet, we talk, we enjoy each other.”
“And then?”
“Then we keep meeting.”
“Thats not serious!”
“Its serious enough for me.”
“But I want stability.”
“What stability do you need?”
“The ordinary kind. A shared life. Breakfast together, plans, a future.”
“I dont want daily breakfasts. Or bending to someone elses plans.”
“But youre alone!”
“Im not. Ive my daughters, my friends, you. Theres a difference between solitude and loneliness.”
“I dont see it.”
“The difference is choice. Right now, I choose when and with whom I spend my time. Living together takes that choice away.”
“Eleanor, at sixty, its time to think wholl be there in old age.”
“I have. It neednt be a husband.”
“Who, then?”
“Daughters. A carer. Social services. Options exist.”
“But thats not the same!”
“Not to you. To me, its enough.”
Stephen paced the room.
“So youd have me keep renting, seeing you weekends?”
“Id have you live as you please. Well meet when we both wish to.”
“And if I cant afford rent?”
“Thats your concern, not mine.”
“Thats harsh.”
“Its honest. Your housing isnt my responsibility.”
“But were together!”
“Together. So? That doesnt make me answerable for your life.”
Stephen sat heavily, thinking.
“If I find a flat, will we keep seeing each other?”
“Of course. If we want to.”
“Till then, might I stay a while?”
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“Not at all.”
He understood thenshe wouldnt bend. He took his cases and turned to the door.
“So I must find both a home and a new relationship.”
“Perhaps.”
“Eleanor, wont you regret this?”
“No.”
Stephen left. He never called again. Eleanor returned to her quiet life, valuing peace over passion, freedom over company. At sixty, shed learnedsome comforts arent worth the cost.
What would you have done? Share your thoughts below.
