THE POSTAGE STAMP
Andrew left Charlotte, my mother sighed, her voice weighed down.
What do you mean? I asked, the room swimming like it does in dreams.
I dont understand myself, she replied, staring off into nowhere. He was away on business for a month, came back a different man. Told Charlotte he was sorry, but he loved someone else. Her words drifted in the air, heavy and strange.
He really said that? This cant be real. Horrid, I muttered, beginning to resent my brother-in-law.
Sophie called, mum continued in an odd, echoing voice. Said Charlotte was unwellcalled an ambulance. Turns out she got some nerve thing, cant even swallow. Mum blinked rapidly, her eyes shining like wet glass marbles.
Its alright, Mum, try to stay calm, I said, though my words felt thick in my mouth. Honestly, Charlotte never shouldve put Andrew up on a pedestal like some saint in the corner. Always running around for him. Now look at her Just miserable. I hope Andrew isnt serious with this other woman. He loves Charlotte and SophieI know he does. I refused to accept things as they were.
Andrew and Charlotte had a wild, uncontrollable lovea tempest. They married after barely two months, and soon little Sophie arrived. Their life seemed set out like the neat tracks of a model trainstable, smooth, predictable. Until, just like that, it crashed down the hill.
Naturally, I dashed to my sister. Speaking about heartbreak is never easy, especially with your own blood.
Charlie, what happened? Did Andrew even try to explain? Has he gone mad? I pelted her with questions.
Oh, Nina, Im just as stunned. Who is this woman? Did she put a spell on him or something? Andrews acting possessedhe ran straight to her. I couldnt stop him. He only said, Charlotte, lifes meant to flow, not leak away. Chucked some clothes in a bag, and he was gone. Feels like Ive been dragged face-first over gravel. I dont understand Tears streamed down Charlottes face in a shimmering, endless river.
Well wait, Charlie. Maybe your runaway will come to his senses. These things happen, I said, hugging her shaking shoulders.
But the runaway did not come back.
Andrew set up in another town, with a new wife.
Verity was eighteen years Andrews senior, but age meant nothing to them. The soul doesnt have years, Verity liked to say in her sing-song voice.
Andrew was dazzled by his second wife: she was his lighthouse in the fog.
Verity had a wild sort of spiritnot easy to love, but impossible not to. She knew how to weave honeyed words, or slice with them when she pleased.
Andrew adored her, always marveling, Where have you been, my Verity… Ive searched half my life for you
Meanwhile, Charlotte brewed up a storm of vengeance against any man who crossed her path.
She was beautifulso much so that men and women alike stared after her in the swirling mists.
At work, she tangled herself in an affair with her boss, Mr. Bennett.
Charlie, marry me, he pleaded. Ill shower you in gold. Youll be my queen.
Ive had my fill of marriage, Bennett. Lets take Sophie to the seaside for some fresh air instead? she replied, winking, her words floating around the office like soap bubbles.
Bennett agreed, swept along in her little dance.
Then there was Stana simpler manwho fixed her sink, painted her sitting room, rebuilt her shelves. Never asked her to marry him; he was comfortably married elsewhere. She twisted him round her finger without another thought.
There was no love in these entanglements. They kept her head above water, braiding away her sadness, and that was all.
Still, Charlotte pined for Andrew. He slipped into her dreams, a shadow in the fog, and she woke with useless tears soaking the pillow. The ache wouldnt leave, a strange magnet drawing her mind back to him.
How do you unfasten yourself from a person? What did I do wrong for him to toss me aside? I was gentle, loyal, did everything for him. We never even argued
Years drifted by, time blurring like rain on the window pane.
Charlotte smiled mysteriously at Bennett one day, then sent Stan back to his wife the next. The tide rolled in and out.
Sophie was twenty when she made up her mind to visit her father.
She bought a train ticket, the coins in her palm cold and dreamlike. She pondered, rehearsing what to say to this stranger, Verity.
She arrived in a town that didnt look like any real townhouses as tall as sunflowers, roads twisting in impossible loops.
She rang the bell, and a curious woman with laughter lines and wild eyes opened the door.
You must be Sophia, said the woman.
Mum is much prettier, Sophie thought.
Youre Verity? she ventured.
Yes, come in. Your father is out, but hell come soon, Verity said, guiding her to the kitchena place of old teapots and velvet shadows.
How have you been? And your mother? Verity fluttered about the stove, Fancy a cuppa? Or coffee?
Verity, how did you manage to take my father away? He loved my mumI know it, Sophie said, looking her dead in the eye.
Soph, not all things in life can be planned. Love gives no guarantees. Sometimes passion just sweeps insudden, unexplainable. One meeting, and it all shifts. As if the clouds themselves pull the strings. You find yourself changing partners in the dance. Theres no rhyme or reason. Verity sat, looking tired and faded.
But couldnt you stop yourself? What about duty to the family? Sophie pressed, her stare cold as the river at Christmas.
You cant, dear, Verity replied flatly.
Thank you for being honest, Sophie breathed, but did not drink the tea.
Sophie, want some advice? Verity chuckled, mischief in her eyes. A mans like a postage stamp: the more you spit on him, the stronger he sticks. And really, with men, you must be steel one day, velvet the next. By the way, your father and I had a rather grand row.
Thank you for the tip. Shall I wait for my father then? Sophie asked, fidgeting with her ring.
I dont know. Hes been living at a hotel this week. I can give you the address. Verity scribbled on a scrap of paper, handing it over. Here you are.
Sophie was secretly relieved; now she could speak with her father alone, without strangers watching through lace curtains.
Goodbye, thank you for the offer, Sophia said, leaving hurriedly, dream-quick.
She found the hotela place that only exists in nighttime wanderings. She knocked on her fathers door.
Andrew was surprised, happy, a little embarrassed. Sophie, I was planning to head home today, you know, after the argument
Dad, thats your business. I just wanted to see you, Sophie said quietly, taking his hand like shed never done before.
How is your mother? Andrew asked, as if the question mattered.
Shes fine, Dad. Weve gotten used to being without you.
Sophie and her father spent a gentle evening togetherwarm tea, long silences, stories in soft voices, laughter and the odd tear sliding down the wallpaper.
Dad, do you love Verity? Sophie suddenly asked, her voice a soft bell.
Very much, Andrew replied, certain. Forgive me, love.
I see. Well, I should go. My train leaves soon, Sophie gathered her things.
Come and visit again, Soph. Were still family. Andrew looked at his shoes.
Of courseof course, Sophie said, already halfway down the hall, melting away.
Returning home, she decided to follow Veritys advice.
No loving, no treasuring, no trusting empty male words. No care.
For three years, she lived this way, letting each gentleman drift by like ships on the Thames.
But then a special man appeared. Williammade for her, sent from the heavens.
Sophie knew at once. She could smell it on the wind.
When something is yours, nothing else has any taste at all.
William wrapped his arms around her from the inside out. She felt his silent touch on her heart. Sophie fell in love, wild and unbound, loving with every scrap of her soulno bargains, no conditions. To the end.
