ARE YOU MY HAPPINESS?
Honestly, I never planned to get married. If it hadnt been for the determined pursuit of my future husband, Id probably still be flying free. Tom, like an infatuated moth, flitted here and there around me, never letting me out of his sight, always trying to please, dusting off any worries Eventually, I gave in. We tied the knot.
Almost as soon as we married, Tom became my home, my comfort, my soulmate. Life with him was simple and easylike slipping into a pair of slippers.
A year after our wedding, our son William was born. Tom had work in another city and came home only once a week. Whenever he returned, he brought treats for both Will and me. One weekend, as usual, I got ready to do his laundry and began checking his pocketsa habit, since once Id managed to wash his driving licence by accident.
Since then, Id pat down every pocket before starting a wash. That time, a piece of paper slipped out of his trousers, folded in quarters. I opened it and read: it was a long list of school supplies (this was August), and at the end, in a childs hand: Dad, come back soon.
So, thats how my husband entertained himself during the week! A double life!
Rather than start a scene, I grabbed my bag and Will (barely three), and went to stay with my mum for a while. Mum gave us a room and said:
Stay here until you sort it out.
Vengeance brewed in my mind against that ungrateful husband. I remembered my old classmate, Rob. What better way to spark up a romance! Rob had pursued me back in school, never giving me peace. I rang him.
Hi Rob! You still single? I started, fishing.
Lizzie? Hello! Does it matter whether Im married or divorcedlets meet up? he replied, sounding keen.
My fling with Rob lasted half a year. Each month, Tom brought Will his child maintenance, handing it to my mother and leaving without a word.
I knew Tom was living with Catherine Everson. She had a daughter from a previous marriage. Catherine insisted the girl call Tom Dad. They moved into Toms flat as soon as she realised Id left. Catherine adored Tomknitted him woolly socks and warm jumpers, cooked delicious meals. I found all this out later. For years, I have teased Tom about Catherine Everson. At the time, I thought our marriage had simply fallen apart.
Then, over coffee to discuss the upcoming divorce, Tom and I were suddenly swept up by fond memories. Tom confessed that he still loved me, told me he simply couldnt get rid of persistent Catherine.
I felt a stab of pity for him. And so, we reconciled. Tom didnt know about Rob, and Catherine left town for good.
Seven happy years passed. Then, Tom was involved in a serious car accident. Multiple surgeries, rehabilitation, walking with a sticktwo years of recovery. The whole ordeal exhausted him. Tom took to drinking heavily and withdrew from life, losing all sense of himself. Our attempts to help fell on deaf ears, and he wore both me and Will out. He refused any help.
At work, I found a shoulder to cry onPaul, whod listen to me chain-smoking outside, take walks with me after work, and soothe my worries. Paul was married, his wife expecting their second child. I still can’t fathom how we ended up in bed togetherdaft, really. He was a head shorter than me, not at all my type!
Yet suddenly, Paul whisked me off to art shows, concerts, ballets. When his wife gave birth to their daughter, Paul paused all outings, resigned from our company, and started elsewhere. Perhaps he thought out of sight, out of mind? I hadnt claimed him, so it was easy to let him go back to his family. He had simply distracted me from my pain, and I had no intention of breaking up someone elses marriage.
Tom kept drinking.
Five years later, I ran into Paul by chance, and he seriously asked me to marry him. I laughed.
Tom rallied briefly and went to work in Prague. While he was away, I was the model wife and devoted mother. All my thoughts centred on family.
Tom returned from abroad six months later. We redecorated the flat, bought new appliances. Tom finally repaired his foreign car. Life shouldve been great. But noTom slid back into drinking. The cycle began again. Friends dragged him home, unable even to stand unaided. Sometimes Id be running around our neighbourhood trying to find my out-of-sorts husband, discovering him asleep on a bench with his pockets turned out, dragging him home. Such were our days.
One spring morning, I stood feeling sorrowful at the bus stop. Birds were chirping, the sun was dazzling, tickling the world awake, but I couldnt care less for Aprils cheer. I heard a gentle whisper in my ear:
Perhaps I could help with your troubles?
I turned. Good heavens, what a handsome man! And there I was, forty-five. Did I really think Id blossom once more? I blushed like a girl. Thank goodness the bus rolled upI hopped on and fled, keeping trouble at bay. The man waved as I left. All day, my thoughts danced only around him. I kept up pretence for a couple of weeks.
But Edwardhis namewas relentless, steadfast as a tank, and broke down my resolve. Every morning, he waited for me at the same stop. Id try not to be late, peeking down the street, hoping to spot him. On seeing me, Edward would grin and throw air kisses my way.
One time, he showed up with a bunch of red tulips. I said, Where am I supposed to go with these flowers, on my way to work? The girls will spot me instantly.
Edward smiled.
Ah, I hadnt thought of that dreadful outcome.
He promptly handed the bouquet to a granny whod been watching our little show with interest. She beamed, Thank you, lad! Hope you find a passionate lover! I went scarlet at her wordsthank goodness she didnt wish him a younger flame, or I’d have sunk through the pavement!
Edward said warmly,
Lets both be guilty together, Lizzie. You wont regret it.
Honestly, the prospect was temptingand at the time, Tom and I barely had any relationship at all. Tom lay motionless on the bed, lost to his own regrets.
Edward was a teetotal ex-athlete of 57, with plenty to talk about. Divorced. There was a charm about him you couldnt put your finger on.
I was swept up in this romance. It turned into pure, headlong passion. Three years I was torn between home and Edward, my soul in turmoil.
I didnt have the strengthor even the desireto stop. Yet, as soon as I wanted to end it, I found the strength still failing me. As they say, the girl sends the lad away, but he doesnt budge. Edward had utterly taken over my soul and body. When he stood nearby, my breath caughttotal madness. But I always knew this wild passion couldnt bring happiness. I didn’t love Edward.
Coming home drained (from my fiery lover), I wanted nothing more than to cling to Tomdrunk as he was, his scent unpleasant, yet so familiar and dear! Truly, your own crust is far more satisfying than someone elses pies. That, I thought, was the truth of life. Passion comes from sufferingand I felt the need to suffer through it, get over Edward, and return to my real family, rather than abandon myself to fleeting pleasures. Reason told me one thing; my body hurtled towards the abyss. I was still a captive to this consuming passion. Self-control was lost.
My son was in the know about Edward. He once saw us in a restaurant with his girlfriend. I had to introduce Edward to Will. They shook hands and exchanged courtesies. That evening, over supper, William gave me a questioning look, waiting for explanations. I joked that a colleague had invited me to discuss a new project. Ah yesin a restaurant, my son nodded knowingly. Will didnt judgehe just asked me not to divorce his dad, hoping Tom might come to his senses.
I felt like a lost sheep, off the path. My divorced friend urged me to chuck these scruffy lovers and settle down. I listenedshe had married three times herself, so her advice held weight. In truth, I only managed to stop when Edward tried to raise a hand against me.
That was where I drew the line. The advice rang clearsmooth waters only when you stay on shore.
The fog finally liftedthree years of turmoil! Relief! At last, peace returned.
Edward spent ages trying to win me backwaiting for me everywhere, kneeling in public, begging forgiveness. But I was immovable. My friend, the advisor, kissed me and gave me a mug with You did right! printed on it.
As for Tom, he knew all about my entanglement. Edward had phoned and told him. My lover was convinced Id leave my family. Tom admitted to me,
When I listened to your admirers tales, I thought Id die quietly. Because I only had myself to blame! I lost my wife. Swapped her for the bottle. Fool that I am. What can I say to you?
Ten years have gone by since. Tom and I have two lovely granddaughters. One afternoon, we sit together at the lunch table, sipping coffee. I gaze out the window. Tom gently takes my hand,
Lizzie, dont look elsewhere. Im your happiness! Do you believe it?
I do, my one and onlyI meet Toms eyes, and for the first time in ages, I see the man who once moved mountains just to win me. His grip is gentle but sure, like someone whos learned the fragility and strength in love. The sunlight outside glances through the curtain and dances across his weathered faceso familiar and so changed.
I think, I say slowly, squeezing his hand, happiness isnt something to chase after. Its what you find when you stop running.
He smiles, that crooked, lopsided smile, full of mischief and sorrow and laughter all mixed together. The years between us are etched around his mouth, in the lines at my eyes, and in the little scuffs of our hard-won peace.
He leans forward, letting our foreheads touch. The smell of coffee and spring rain drifts in from the open window. In the next room, our granddaughters giggle, their tiny voices spilling out hope and promise. Somewhere, a bird sings.
Lizzie, Tom whispers, I do believe it too.
In this quiet, ordinary moment, I realize our story carries onnot just in memory or regret or wild passions, but in these small, precious hours. Happiness is right here, between our joined hands, woven through forgiveness, resilience, and the love that endures each passing storm.
I close my eyes and breathe it in, finally home.
