A Rather Nasty Aftertaste
Its over, theres not going to be any wedding! Emily declared.
Wait, whats happened? Tom stammered, caught off-guard. Everything seemed fine!
Fine? Emily raised an eyebrow. Well…yes, fine. Its just… She hesitated, scrambling for the right words. In the end, she blurted out the unvarnished truth: Your socks stink! I cannot spend my life inhaling that!
You actually said that? Emilys mum gasped when told her daughter had withdrawn their notice of marriage. Unbelievable!
Why not? Emily shrugged, more relived than tearful. Its true. Dont you try and tell me you never noticed.
I did, of course, her mum admitted, a bit embarrassed. But…its humiliating, isnt it? I thought you loved him. He seems like a decent bloke. As for the sockswell, you can sort that out.
And how exactly? Teach him to wash his feet? Change his socks? Use foot spray? Mum, listen to yourself! I was supposed to marry a mankeep safe behind himnot adopt a grown boy!
Then why go so far with him, Emily? Why bother with the notice?
Oh, thats all you, mum! Toms lovely, kind-hearted. I like him so much! Who said that? And, Youre twenty-seven; its time you got married and made me a grandmother. Well?
But, Emily, I didnt realise you were uncertain. I thought you two were serious. Her mum gently defended herself, then smiled. Honestly, Im glad you thought it through and made your choice. Just, darling, stinky socksthats a bit much, isnt it? Not like you at all.
I did it on purpose, mum. Spelled it out. In words hed understand. No turning back…
***
At first, Tom seemed funny and a little clumsy to Emily. He always wore jeans and the same faded t-shirt, didnt pretend to know about Picasso, but could talk endlessly about old British films. His eyes lit right up whenever he recounted a favourite scene.
It was easy and peaceful being with him.
That calmness was exactly what drew Emily in, after all the drama and chasing after the one.
After two months drifting between cinemas and coffee shops, Tom sheepishly suggested, Come round mine? Ill make you homemade pies. Did them myself!
His offer felt so warm and homely, Emilys heart gave a little skip. And Did them myselfthat bowled her over.
She agreed, of course…
***
Emily was not impressed by Toms flat.
It wasnt filthy, but chaos and neglect reigned. Grey walls, no wallpaper. A battered old sofa with a lumpy cushion acting as a pillow. Piles everywhere: shoeboxes, paperbacks, old magazines. Trainers dumped in the middle. The air had a musty, dusty tang.
It looked more like a halfway house than a homesomewhere youre always about to leave but never do.
So, what dyou think of my castle? Tom grinned, arms wide, shamelessly proud. He genuinely saw nothing amiss.
Emily forced a smileshe liked Tom and didnt want an argument.
The kitchen was worse: dust coating the table, grimy mugs and plates stacked in the sink, a past-it casserole pot on the hob. Emilys eye snagged on the kettle.
I wonder, she thought, what colour it started as?
Her mood soured.
Tom babbled away, trying to make her laugh, but the minute he handed over a plate of pies, Emily refused it, citing her new diet…
She couldnt bear to eat anything prepared in that kitchen.
Back home, Emily analysed her visit.
On the surface, Toms flat was unremarkable. So he lived alone and struggled with houseworkso what?
But that lack of order revealed something much deeper to Emily: how could anyone live like this, and not due to laziness about the washing-up, but becausefor himit was perfectly fine!
A rather nasty aftertaste lingered, in short…
***
After a while, Tom visited Emilys place. Got down on one knee, officially proposed, even produced a ring. They filed the notice. Families made wedding plans.
Its flattering being a fiancée. But when Emily was alone and thought about Tom, always trying to please her, making his pies and telling jokes, she kept picturing…that mysterious kettle!
And Emily realised: its not just the kettle. Its a clue! It speaks volumes about Toms attitudetowards life, the home, himself, and probably her.
One day, she imagined a typical morning together and was horrified.
Shed go into the kitchenfind cold tea, crumbs everywhere. If she asked, Darling, tidy up please, hed look baffled, just as he had in his flat, and genuinely not understand. No arguing, no shouting. Hed just…not get it. And every single day, shed be explaining, cleaning, reminding. Her love would slowly die, pricked by thousands of little irritations hed never even notice.
Her mum was overjoyed she was marrying.
***
Marriage…
All the ease and warmth Emily once felt with Tom drained away, replaced by heavy unease.
Emily, Tom asked almost daily, peering into her eyes, Were ok, arent we? We do love each other?
Of course, she replied, feeling something snap inside.
Eventually Emily confided in her friend, told her everything.
So what? Sophie didnt get it, looking perplexed. A bit of dust, an odd kettle… My husband could leave a tank in the kitchen and not even see it. Blokes dont notice things like that!
Exactly! Emily whispered. They dont see. And Tom never will. But I will! Every day! And itll kill me, slowly but surely!
***
No, she didnt blame him. He was honest. He hadnt misled her. Just…lived in a different worlda world where a dirty plate in the sink is par for the course. For her, it spelled complete incomprehension and indifference.
She knew it wasnt about cleanliness. It was about seeing the world in fundamentally different ways. The crack in her mind would only grow, becoming a chasm between them.
So better to end it now, than risk falling into that abyss years later when its too late.
She only needed the right moment…
***
Emily and Tom were invited to a party.
They arrived, took off their coats and shoes in the hallway…
Moved into the lounge…
An awful, sour smell trailed after them.
Emily didnt realise straight away where it came from.
But when she understoodand saw everyone else did tooshe wanted the ground to swallow her up. Without a word she darted into the hall, threw on her things, and left.
Tom dashed after her, caught up, grabbed her hand. She spun round, almost spitting fury:
Thats it! Theres not going to be any wedding!
***
There really wasnt a wedding.
Emily feels she did the right thing and has no regrets.
As for Tom…
To this day, he has no clue what the problem was. So what if his socks stink? He could have just taken them off…
