Three Broken Fates
Well, well, what have we here? This promises to be rather curious!
As Saturday cleaning drifted on, Ruth rummaged through knickknacks in the loft, while her mother, Evelyn, baked in the kitchen. Among the heap of dusty tins and battered boxes, Ruth stumbled on an old, faded photo album shed never seen before. Her hands tingled with curiosity, as if the album itself whispered secrets. She curled up in the well-worn armchair, barely noticing the strange swirl of fog rolling across the garden outside, and began to turn the pages.
The album unfurled a parade of laughter: a young Evelyn laughing by the fountains with uni friends, sun-drenched picnics in bluebell woods, an exuberant woman spinning through a field of English daisies. Then, as in the twist of a fable, there appeared a moody, tall, dark-haired man. Evelyn and her companion beamed; they seemed to lean together, as if an invisible thread drew them close, arms entwined, gazes full of gentle mischief. Ruth squinted at the images, her mind drifting between the world of black-and-whites and fragrant Saturday air: there they lounged in a tea shop, there they ambled along the Thames embankment, here they laughed, fingertips brushing. Who was this charming phantom, gazing at her mother with such affection?
Her head buzzing with wonder, Ruth drifted into the kitchen on a cloud of vanilla and pastry. Evelyn stood with the oven door open, haloed in warm light.
Mum, Ruth murmured, clutching the album to her chest, whos this man? I dont recall him at all.
Evelyns hand, clutching an oven mitt, fluttered just a fraction, a brief tremor shivering the air. But she smiled, schooled the edges of her voice, and gently set the pie to cool.
Oh, thats Lyle, she said, her tone attempting nonchalance, yet a tautness trembled underneath. We courted long before your father. It was all rather a lifetime ago, really.
But why have I never heard about him? You both look happy as anything! What happened? Whyd you part ways?
Evelyns hands dusted off her apron as if brushing away old dust from old wounds. She peered out into the fading garden, where the neighbours twin boys appeared to play cricket with a plank and a bucket lid. The question floated between them, nearly vanished on the breeze, but Ruths gaze pinned it fast. Evelyn knew thered be no peace until she answered.
Its a difficult story, darling. She turned, voice soft yet steely with remembrance. We were in love. But we couldnt it went wrong. My doing, that. It was my fault.
Ruth slumped into a chair, eyes fastened to Evelyns face, the album on her knees now like a collection of odd dreams. She saw the weight in Evelyns set jaw, little lines deepening as memory lapped in. Ruth regretted stirring such pain, but curiosity was an itch that would not be ignored.
Tell me everything, she whispered. I want to understand. I always knew things were fraught with Dad, that you well, you never seemed in love with him. You put up with so much for years. Why, Mum? I just need to know. I respect him for being my father, but as a man hes cold, possessive, never seems to care. Was he always like that? How could you pick him, when there was Lyle?
Evelyn faltered. The mug she held trembled minutely. She exhaled through pressed lips, settling the mug as carefully as if the table might shatter. Gathering resolve, she replied:
Its not simple, Ruth. Her voice was a breeze through ashes. Not a drop of love for your father, not ever. In truth I rather disliked him.
Ruth flinched. Something in her had almost expected it, but hearing it out loud was its own peculiar sting. Her shoulders spasmed, her insides a hive of nerves.
But then I dont understand! Were you forced? Did Gran and Grandad insist?
A fleeting, bitter smile flickered on Evelyns face.
Quite the opposite. She lowered her voice, almost conspiratorial. My parents were utterly against it. Your gran was baffled why I agreed to marry someone whod left me so indifferent. They tried to stop me. Especially as Lylewell, he was everything a parent might want. Ambitious, kind, funny. A future mapped bright as midsummer.
With a finger, she circled the rim of her cup, as if divining answers from the dregs. It pained her to relive it, buton this particular afternoon, the air thick with pie and strange recollectionshe found herself wanting to share.
My flaw, Ruth, is I cant abide being told what to do. Never could. If someone lays down a rule, I break itsometimes at my own expense. My parents knew that so well, they always gave me choices. But the one I loved he never truly saw that, or didnt wish to.
She gazed out as the dusk crept in, the sky boiling with dreamlike snowflakes, though it was May. Memories pressed in, cold as a church floor. If only, she thought, if only shed paused. If only pride hadnt sent her storming down a path for no reason but to prove no one could order her life.
Yet the price was heavy: she ruined three lives in that momenther own, her beloveds, and the poor man whod become her husband. Their marriage was doomed long before champagne glasses clinked, everyone saw it, and Evelyn herself knew, even then, shed made a dreadful error. But stubbornness is a curse with sharp claws.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The memory folded back further, blurring at the edges, dreamlike and strange.
Evelyn floated at the kitchen table, her chin nestled in one palm, unable to blink away the sight of Lyle gliding amongst pans and pots. He moved like a conjurer, the knife in his hand flickering as it diced carrots and onions into tiny jewels. Aromas curled, odd and soft, weaving through the air, making the wallpaper appear to pulse with colour.
Twice she tried to rise and helpupbringing nipped at her heels, whispering The kitchen is a woman’s empire! But before she could speak, Lyle, with a conspirators wink, would hush her. Sit, love. Youre my honoured guest in this kingdom. Just relax.
So she obeyed, watching the ordinarylemon, parsley, potato, buttertransformed into something magical by his touch. Lyle never just cooked; he cast spells, swirling every bit of heart into the simmering pot.
My family ran a little bistro near Brighton pier, he teased, eyes alight. Couldnt very well grow up in that without learning the tricks, eh? Mums a legend with pastry. I learned from the best. Hang on, youll be begging for seconds!
He laughed, a warm bubble carrying through scented mist. It felt as if the wallpaper faded away and the room opened to another world, seaside breezes dancing in.
An hour later, only a gleaming plate remained. Evelyn nearly licked it, so delicious was the mealbright, tender, harmonious flavours, each note chiming clear yet blending into something wholly new.
She leaned back, catching Lyles gaze. Her eyes glimmered; delight, awe, and something softer than either.
That was magic. Ive never tasted anything like it. How do you do it, Lyle? Turn the everyday into marvels?
He grinned wide, tucking a lock of dark hair behind his ear as if he might vanish in a puff of flour.
All you need is a bit of love, a dash of wonder, and the best ingredients. But your smiles reward enough for me, Eve. Next time, come to our restaurant. Then youll see the real sorcery!
She laughed, golden and low, clutching a mug of proper English tea. The aroma tangled with the air, making everything brighter.
Ill be sure you keep your word! Are you planning to take over the place when your mum retiresbecome the chef-in-chief?
Lyle hesitated a heartbeat, considering.
Something bigger, actually. Were opening another bistro up near Londonthe fancy spa town, right by the heath. Already signed the lease, just waiting for the builders to finish. Ill manage it, and believe meitll be the talk of the South!
He spun tales, and she pictured herself in each one: sunlit halls, laughter bubbling from table to table, new faces, new adventures. Yet, as he finished, a chill of unease circled her heart.
So youre leaving? Her question tasted of iron. She twisted her engagement ringLyles gift, yellow gold cool against her skin, and suddenly alien. What about me? Am I just meant to stay behind?
Lyle reeled, caught off guard by her tone. Didnt she know he would do anything for her? That every plan hed spun was woven with her at its heart?
No, never! Youre coming too, Evie! Already found us a flat in a green bit of town, quiet as a cathedral, all for us. Well marry thereout in nature. Theres a university nearby. I can sort your transfermuch better reputation than here.
He spoke hurriedly, desperate to share his astonishing, sky-bright vision, certain shed leap at the chance. Opportunities like this didnt drop down from the clouds every day.
Evelyn listened, silence gathering at her feet. Her fingers knotted the tablecloth, breath shallow as she pictured leavingparents waving, friends weeping, life rewound and replayed on new, unfamiliar streets.
So thats it? She spoke as if through glass. Youve decided everything? Is my choice not needed? You want me to drop my life and trail after you somewhere strange?
She drifted into uneasy silence, gaze fixed on passing clouds and the wild shapes they madea giraffe, a violin, a swirling hat. She was not ready to abandon everything just because Lyle had dreamt their lives ahead for both of them.
He reached, palms pressed to the table, eyes imploring.
Evie, its not about deciding for you! Im just sharing. Ihoped youd be as thrilled as I am. I tried to make it all perfect.
But her ears finished listening. Only the old, familiar anger unfurled, bristling at being packaged into someone elses dream. She leapt up, the chair scraping, and caught her mug on the way: a galloping tide of brown tea spilt across the white cloth, blooming a muddy, spreading stain.
It doesnt matter if its perfect or rotten! she snapped. You made the plans, Lyle! Not me! Im not a pawn in anyones gamenot yours, not anyones! I decide where I live, I decide my future!
Her fists shook, voice pitched against the walls. The detailsthe flat, the city, all of itwere straw now. It was the principle, the invisible line that she could not allow anyone to cross.
Evie He tried to soothe, but she recoiled, voice shaking.
Ive said enough! In a motion almost theatrical, she pulled off the engagement ring, the metal glittering like a cold coin in midair, and hurled it at the wall. It ricocheted with a music-box clang, rolling away to hide beneath the sideboard.
Later, curled up in her fathers old armchair, the garden folding and unfolding outside like a stage set, Evelyns hands trembled. The house seemed warped, the air thick as wool. She saw her overreaction, saw that Lyles only crime had been caring too much. Stillher pride gnawed. The very idea that someone might choose for her, dictate what she did, was unbearable. If he makes the decisions now, where will it stop? Better, she decided, to suffer pain now, than chains later. The years would dull the ache, she reasoned, and shed remain the only mistress of her fate.
Months slipped by, each day blurring at the corners like an old television left switched on in an empty room. Evelyn met Andrew, a long-time admirer, drawn to her now by the scent of loneliness. Andrew, keenly aware of Lyles shadow, pressed his suit. In the end, Evelyn let herself believe she could be happy, or at least less alone, by making a grand changeproving, to herself and others, that she needed no one and nothing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So I married the first man who asked. Evelyns voice was low, gaze unfocused and drifting. Your father was cheerful enough, but he didnt care for plans, or for partnership. Within a year, we were at each other’s throats. He turned out stubbornunyielding, combative, never able to bend. Seven yearsthen the end. Neither of us could pretend any more.
Ruth sat, silent, gathering every word. Sympathy glowed in her eyes, but beneath it, a fierce longing to understand.
But why do you say your mistake ruined three lives? she asked gently. Could Lyle really never move on?
I cant say if he did, Evelyn answered. But he suffered. We all did. Andrew thought marriage would sort his emptiness, but it just deepened it. Three souls, circling around what happiness might have beeneach failing, in our own peculiar way.
Her words were measured, gentle, neither bitter nor self-pityingjust clear acceptance of scars mapped deeper than years.
Lyle moved away, she went on. Hes built up a string of restaurants nowquite esteemed, always in the food guides. But the light he had it grew guarded, businesslike. Good for earning, I suppose. But his spirit lost somewhere.
She paused, surely glimpsing him as he was then: tall, hopeful, laughter tumbling out of him, a boy who could make anything taste marvellous.
He married. Twice. Neither lasted a year. All his tenderness went to his boyhes a devoted father, gentle, attentive. But with womennever managed.
Evelyn stopped, shadows playing on her face, then added, not truly meeting Ruths eyes:
His wivesthey looked like me. Same build, same hair, same everything. His friend once told me Lyle never stopped loving me. But its too late to wedge myself back into his life. Far, far too late.
Ruth listened, thunderstorm thoughts crossing her features. She ached for an alternate historyone where her mothers strength, tenderness, and wit had joined with Lyles warmth, both finding the happiness that glimmered like sea glass on distant shores. But Evelyn was as unlikely to confess regret as to fly. That stubborn streak which drove her from Lyle long ago still wove throughout her; never would she take the first step, not for pride or love or even sorrow.
Evelyn sat up a tad, stretching away the heaviness, looking at Ruth with a flicker of new energy.
You know, I cant truly say Im sorry. Yes, it hurt. Yes, it wasnt the dream. But I lived as I lived. I have youmost precious of all.
Outside the windows, twilight swallowed the garden, the fog rolling in again, strange and luminous. Inside, lamplight burned, soft and golden as fresh shortbread. Ruth rose, crossed the floor, and wrapped her arms around her mother. For a moment, Evelyn seemed to shrink, then returned the embrace, pulling Ruth close as if to gather back all lost years.
With that, the past eased, settling into its proper place. The future, uncertain and bright as morning mist, waited for them bothready to be shaped together.
