To Stay or To Leave
Emily opened the door and blinked in surprise at the sight of her daughter, Victoria, and a young man she didn’t recognise, smiling politely.
“Hi, Mum, meet James,” Victoria babbled, nudging the lad forward. “Thought it was time you got to know him. Is Dad home?”
“Pleased to meet you,” James said, a little awkwardly, stepping inside.
Emily smiled warmly, hoping to put him at ease, and nodded.
“Sorry for dropping in unannounced, Mum,” Victoria chattered. “We’ll just have a cuppa, then we’re off to the cinema.”
James was polite, answering questions with quiet charm, though he seemed shy.
“Mum, where’s Dad? I wanted him to meet James too.”
“Where else would your father be? Tinkering in the garage, of course,” Emily sighed. “Said he needed to hoover the car seats and give it a proper wash. You know him—won’t take it to a car wash if he can do it himself.”
Before long, Victoria and James were ready to leave. The young man thanked her politely as they stepped out.
“What a well-mannered boy,” Emily mused, shutting the door behind them.
Victoria was in her second year at university—a grown woman now. Somehow, Emily hadn’t noticed how quickly she’d matured. These days, her daughter was always asking for advice—what to do, how to handle things, as if her mother held all the answers.
Sometimes Emily gave her guidance, but there were moments when she could only say:
“Love, some questions don’t have clear answers, and they never will. There’s no single right way in life. Sometimes it lays traps for us, as if trying to show that everything has its own time.”
Fate worked in strange ways. Emily, married for over twenty years, had spent much of that time at a crossroads. She still remembered the night her friend Lucy introduced her to George.
“Emily, this is George—Vince’s mate,” Lucy had said, steering a tall, lanky young man towards her. He looked nervous, out of place. “They work together. Vince’s been on at me to set him up with someone. Anyway, you two chat!” And with that, she vanished into the crowd of dancing students.
The university disco was in full swing. Emily and Lucy were nearing graduation, and Lucy and Vince were set to marry in two months. George seemed out of his depth among the students, hunched and awkward, as if embarrassed by his own height.
“George, are you studying somewhere?” Emily had asked, breaking the silence.
“Nah. Been driving lorries for three years now. Did my time in the Army after school.”
“Odd,” she’d thought. “Most lads come back from service tougher. My brother certainly did.”
“Me and Vince served together,” George went on. “Stuck together after, got jobs at the same place. Never went to uni. You and Lucy study here, then?”
He’d smiled at her—a boyish, disarming grin—and despite herself, Emily had smiled back. She hadn’t fancied him, not then. If someone had told her he’d be her husband one day, she’d have laughed in their face.
But fate had other plans. Life would be dull if we knew exactly where we’d end up. Every time George asked her out, Emily told herself it’d be the last time. Yet she never said no.
On one hand, she pitied him—this kind, awkward man. On the other, no other suitors had seemed worth marrying.
“Emily, how’s it going with George?” Lucy asked one day.
“Fine, I suppose. Don’t really know,” Emily had replied vaguely.
They’d even been witnesses at Lucy and Vince’s wedding. By then, Emily had graduated and started work. Still, she and George carried on—until one day, she realised she’d grown used to him. He was real. Solid. She went to her mother for advice.
“Mum, I’ve introduced you to George. He’s started talking about marriage, and I don’t know what to say. He’s reliable, hardworking, cares for me—but he’s not exactly worldly. Doesn’t read books.”
“Love, don’t overthink it. So what if he doesn’t read? He’s loyal, and he looks at you like you hung the moon. These things smooth out in time.”
Eventually, George—flushed and fumbling—proposed.
“Emily, this is for you,” he said, pulling a ring box from his pocket. “Will you marry me?”
She stared at the ring, then chuckled.
“Yes. But where are my flowers?” Slipping the ring on, she grinned.
“Oh, blimey. Forgot all about ’em. The ring and your ‘yes’ were all I could think of. I’ll get you flowers, promise.”
Later, Emily wondered how they’d ended up married. He was so ordinary, someone she’d never taken seriously. Maybe it was because all her friends had settled down, and she hadn’t wanted to be left behind.
They became a family. Over time, like all couples, they built a life—mortgages, relatives, problems (which George always handled). Yet the more they shared, the wider the gulf between them felt.
Dinner conversations revolved around chores. She couldn’t discuss films or gallery visits with him. They bickered over TV shows or weekend plans—Emily always won, George always yielded.
“George, must you watch cartoons? You’re not a child.”
“Who says cartoons are just for kids?”
She knew he lacked education, polish. She taught him table manners, fearing he’d embarrass her in company.
Things shifted the night of her office awards banquet. George had a fever, couldn’t go.
“Don’t wait up,” she’d said.
Sitting there, a thought struck her:
“I’m glad he’s not here. No worrying he’ll say the wrong thing.”
But when she returned, George was overjoyed to see her. She resolved to talk—once he was better. Then, two days later, the doctor said:
“You’re expecting. Planning to keep it?”
“Yes,” Emily said, though she hadn’t planned this.
George was thrilled.
“Em, I’ll love you even more now. Look after you proper.”
Years flew by. Victoria grew. Emily knew a child needed two parents—yet she longed to leave. But she stayed.
Victoria started school, then uni. Friends’ marriages crumbled—husbands drinking, cheating. Lying in bed, Emily thanked God for her kind, steady George.
“Emily, you’re so lucky,” sighed Lucy, long divorced, raising two kids alone. “George is your rock. Still looks at you like you’re twenty.”
“He is,” Emily agreed.
She never confessed how suffocated she’d felt behind that “rock,” how close she’d come to leaving.
Now, with Victoria grown, she thought:
“She’d never understand if I left. And who do I have besides George and her?”
They’d built a life. Now, with old age looming, it was time—not to go, but to stay.
