Life After Divorce
Emma, darling, why are you being so stubborn? Margarets tone was as if she were laying out the obvious to a rather slow childinfused with that familiar, patronising patience that knotted Emmas insides every time she heard it. William is a wonderful man. Handsome, clever, earns a good salary, owns his own home. What more could you possibly want?
Emma set down the spoon shed been stirring the soup with and looked up at her mother. Her fingers trembled; she quickly tucked her hands under the table to keep Margaret from noticing.
Mum, he cheated on me, she replied quietly, holding her mothers gaze. More than once, more than twiceit was a pattern. Wed only been married six months, and I had so much evidence the judge didnt even hesitate. He refused to give us time for reconciliation. Do you understand? Even someone who doesnt know us could see the marriage was beyond saving.
Margaret shrugged, adjusting her apron as though flicking away some minor, irrelevant detail. All men are like that. And remember, a good wife never drives her husband to stray. You shouldve worked on yourself. Taken a course, gone to the gym, changed your hair. But noyou just had to go straight to divorce!
Emma sighed, a wave of exhaustion washing over her. This conversation had happened ten times in the last fortnight, always the same script. Since the divorce, shed moved back in with her mumher own flat, inherited from her nan, was still being leased out. Emma was waiting for the tenants to leave so she could finally start arranging her own spacetruly her own, somewhere she could finally breathe.
*************************
When the harsh, insistent doorbell rang from the hallway, Emma knew immediately who it was. William. Again. Her heart jolted and sank, her palms growing slick with sweat. Mum, as if deliberately, invited him round every single timeno matter how much Emma protested, as if blind or indifferent to her pain.
Darling, its William! Margaret called out from the kitchen, her face lit up with a girlish delight. Come in, come in, love! she shouted toward the hallway in a voice so warm and welcoming it made Emma sick.
Emmas fist gripped the spoon so tightly her knuckles blanched, the metal biting into the palm. A lump rose in her throat, heaviness settling in her chest.
I dont want to talk to him, Mum, she said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady.
And who asked you? Margaret shot back unexpectedly sharply, her face twisting in annoyance. This is my house, and Ill invite who I please. As long as youre living here, youll follow my rules.
Emma felt tears stinging her eyes but clenched her jaw and swallowed them down. She stood and nearly knocked over her tea, slipping past her mother and Williamwho was just kicking off his shoes in the hallwayand moved straight for the balcony door. His colognesharp, woodyhit her, churning her stomach with disgust.
Emma, wait! called her ex-husband, his voice thick with affected concern, only making her bristle more.
She didnt answer. She flung open the door, stepped out, and shut it firmly behind her. The cold air rushed up under her jumper, nipping her neck and ears, but she barely noticed. Leaning heavily on the railing, she wrapped her fingers around the cold metal, staring out at the grey blocks of flats opposite, the sparse lights in the windows, the lone figure scurrying by with an umbrella. Somewhere down below, a rubbish lorry droned. From across the way, light-hearted pop music drifted outa careless tune that felt almost mocking.
Just leave already, Emma thought, pulling her thin cardigan tighter, no comfort against the cold. She listened as her mum chatted animatedly with William in the kitchen, crockery clinking, water running, laughter ringing outcasual, easy, as if nothing at all was wrong, as if her daughter wasnt freezing on the balcony, trying desperately to steady herself.
The minutes dragged, slow and syrupy. Emma was shivering nowher fingers had turned to ice, her ears burning, her shoulders trembling. But heading back in was out of the question. She took a deep breath, trying to focus on the sounds of London outsidethe traffic, distant voicesanything other than what was happening beyond the glass door.
Suddenly, she heard the door creak behind hera soft but clear sound that made her jump and turn. William stepped out onto the balcony.
Emma, he said, stopping a couple of steps away, hands thrust into his jeans pockets, head tilted as if hoping to catch her eye. Can we please have a proper conversation?
Theres nothing to talk about, she muttered, turning her gaze to the rain droplets that clung to the neighbours window, trying to quell her shivering.
Listen he edged closer and she felt his presence like a weight. I really have realised my mistakes. Im not that man anymore. Lets try again. I promise Ill change.
You havent even managed a real apology, Emma shot back, her frustration bubbling up at last. You just want things back the way they were, because its convenient for you. Because its what you know. You havent changed, William. You just want back what you lost.
But I genuinely
Enough, she interrupted, raising her voice in sudden, unexpected resolve. I dont want your promises, or a man who cant be faithful. I wont come second to your whims again.
She wrenched the door; it wouldnt budge. Of courseher mums handiwork.
Mum! Emma called, her voice raw with desperationshe barely recognised herself. Let me in!
A minute later, the lock snapped, and Margaret appeared in the doorway, beaming as if they were at some kind of celebration. She wore the same cherry-print apron as before, holding a steaming mug of tea.
What are you two doing stuck out here? she tutted, setting the mug down on the little table shed recently dragged out, fussing with the tablecloth. Come on in, teas readymint, just the way you like it.
Emma brushed past her, avoiding eye contact, anger boiling up insidenot just at William, but at her mothers relentless interference, her disregard for Emmas pain and choices.
Mum, she stopped in the hallway, facing Margaret firmly, please. I dont want to see him. I dont want you inviting him over. This is my life. Let me decide whats best for me.
Nonsense, darling, Margaret patted her shoulder, her touch now foreign and unwelcome. Hes sorry! Men make mistakes and a wise woman gives second chances. Youre too proud, Emma. A bit softer, more forgiving
Emma closed her eyes, counting to ten, holding back her tears. There was no point arguingshed learned that long ago. Her mother saw happiness only as a matter of having a husband with a job, a house, all the trappings. Nothing else could ever cut through her certainty.
Emma returned to her room, shutting the door firmly as if to block out the world. The air was stiflingshed forgotten to crack a window that morning, and the room felt heavy with old air. She sat at the edge of the bed, hands trembling so violently she balled them into fists to hold still.
She could make out Margaret and Williams conversation from the kitchen. Her mothers voice was lively, almost joyful, as if she hadnt just laid down the law minutes earlier. There was a note of triumph whenever Margaret spoke, as though shed just scored a minor victory. Williams tone was softer, but Emma recognised the same old rhythmsthose patient, patronising notes he used to persuade her she was overreacting, whenever shed caught him flirtingagainwith yet another colleague or stranger. The sound of it made her stomach churn.
How dare he show up here? Emma thought, digging her nails into her palms. After everythingafter swearing it was just some work friendbut there were three work friends in those six months. Three I know of. How many more?
Half an hour later, when the voices had faded and the front door thudded shut, echoing inside Emmas chest, she ventured out. The kitchen smelled of mint and vanillaMargaret had made a cake, the comforting scent momentarily tempting Emma to slip back into childhood routines. She resisted.
Really, darling, why are you sulking? her mother asked with a smile that now looked false, stuck on. William is a good boy. Hes sorry, truly. I told him, You must prove youre a changed man.
Mum, Emma leant against the doorframe, feeling the rough paint under her fingers, I dont want him to prove anything. I dont want him here. I just want a bit of peace before I can move into my own place. Is that too much?
Margaret sighed, wiping her hands on her apron, then sat heavily, shoulders slumped.
Youre too black and white, she said finally, a tired note in her voice. Life isnt so simple. Yes, he messed upwho hasnt? Youre not perfect. Maybe you couldve made more of an effort, looked after yourself better.
Emma felt the sting of tears, sharp and hot, pressing behind her eyes.
So its all my fault? she asked hoarsely.
Well, not entirely, Margaret looked out the window as the last of the light faded. But its never one-sided. Youre stubborn and prickly, darling. Perhaps if youd been softer
He could have just been faithful, Emma shot back, steel in her voice surprising even herself. Is that really too muchto commit to one person?
**************************
Williams appearances became routine, always lurking, a persistent shadow from a life Emma was desperate to leave behind. Hed loiter near Margarets block as Emma was going out with the bins, hands shoved deep, that guilty smile on his lips. Hed ring the bell with a box of biscuits and the claim, Just passing, thought Id pop inthough Emma knew hed been waiting her out.
Once he turned up with a massive bouquet of red roses and a box of Black Forest chocolatesher childhood favourite. The flowers were dewy-fresh, the box glinting.
These are for you, he said, that same apologetic smile. For a second, he looked almost like the man she used to love. Now she only saw the drawn lines under his eyes, the forced sincerity that didnt reach his gaze.
Thank you, but no, Emma said, not even touching the bouquet. And I asked you not to come.
I know, he lowered his eyes and she saw a flash of vulnerability. I cant just give up. You mean a lot to me.
Meant, William. You meant a lot. In the past.
He hesitated, then nodded, struggling for words.
All right. I understand. Sorry for pestering you.
He turned. At that moment Margaret came out.
Oh, William, dear, do come in! she cooed, voice far too loud and falsely merry. Dont just stand there. And Emma, at least take the flowers! Arent they gorgeous? Id be envious!
Mum, hes leaving, Emma said as calmly as she could, seething inside. And I dont want flowers from someone I dont even know anymore.
Nonsense, darling! Margaret looped her arm through Williams, and Emma noticed how he tensed but did not pull away. Come in, theres cake. Lets all have a nice chat.
William shuffled in, and Emma realised there was no point arguing. She retreated to her room to leave her mum and ex to their tea and pleasantries.
Beyond the door, she could hear Margaret saying, Shes just upset, but youre right to be persistent. Shell come round, youll see.
Emma closed her ears, wanting to scream, wanting to tell her mother everythingwanting, for once, to be heard. But she sat down, picked up her sketchbook, and started drawingshaky lines at first, then swirling patterns, abstract shapes that slowly soothed her, untangling her thoughts in silent rebellion.
*************************
Months passed. Emma finally moved into her own flat, closer to work. She made a couple of new friends, occasionally met up for a drink after work, and took up weekend yoga classes. Yoga helped her rebuild her strength and calmphysically and mentally. Each morning in tree pose, she imagined putting down roots, letting the past go for good.
One Saturday after class, she struck up conversation with the instructorBen. He was a few years older, calm and warm, his steady gaze free of judgement or pride. They exchanged numbers, had coffee, then another.
Ben was nothing like William. He wasnt full of grand gestures or empty promises, but always listened, present in every conversation, quiet when she needed to be alone. For the first time in ages, Emma felt safe; she could be as flawed or as vibrant as she pleased.
Eventually, Emma mentioned Ben to her mother, who pounced with a barrage of questions: Who is he? What does he do? Where does he live?
Hes my yoga instructor, Emma replied, keeping her voice as steady as she could. He works at a studio near my office. He rents a place not far.
Thats it? Margaret grimaced as if shed bitten something sour. No status, no prospects? Are you planning to support him, then?
Mum, I dont care how much he earns. Hes kind, reliable, and he respects me. Thats enough.
Respects, Margaret scoffed. William respected you too! You just wouldnt see it. You always make things so difficult.
Emma shut her eyes and counted to ten again. There was just no point arguing. Margaret simply couldnt imagine happiness outside her framework of a good husband as someone with property, a car, and a flash job; a good wife as one who endures and forgives.
Emmas relationship with Ben grew slowly but surely, steady as spring sunlight growing into summer. They talked and wandered London, tried new recipes. Ben was simply presentand that was all Emma needed to start believing in a different future.
After six months, Ben proposed. They sat on a park bench as the leaves just started to unfurl; Ben squeezed her hand and quietly asked:
Emma, will you marry me?
She looked into his eyesso calm and kindand felt a radiant hope well up inside.
Yes, she whispered, grinning before she could stop herself.
She knew this would set off another storm with her motherand it did.
You cant marry him, Margaret pronounced, standing in the hallway with her arms folded tightly, her stance unyielding and cold. This is a mistakeyoull regret it. Youre throwing your life away.
Ive made my decision, Mum, Emma replied, doing up her coat, her heart beating with a new, unfamiliar confidence. And Im happy. Isnt that enough?
No. Margaret snapped, voice flat and distant. Youre as short-sighted as ever. Youll regret it…just you wait.
**********************
The wedding was modestjust as Emma and Ben wanted. No fuss, just a handful of close friends and a couple of Bens relatives. Emma chose a simple dress, Ben a classic suit with a striped tie. When they exchanged rings and kissed, Emma finally felt she was doing something truly her own.
Margaret didnt come. Instead, she sent a bouquet of white lilies tied with black ribbon and a note: I hope you come to your senses. Emma stared at the flowers before quietly setting them aside. There was a pang, but she wouldnt allow herself to dwell on it.
Then came one last stunt. Margaret had coaxed William into turning up at the register office. Emma caught sight of him as she and Ben left the buildingleaning against his car, hands shoved away, his face impossible to read.
What are you doing here? she asked, tense but no longer raw. The pain was dulled, leaving only a slight bitterness.
Your mum asked me to, he shrugged, a hint of resignation in his voice. Said youd made a mistake and would realise it soon.
Her mum says plenty, Ben said quietly, taking Emmas hand. His grip was warm, solid. Shes not always right.
Right. Well, William smirked, meeting Emmas eyes. When you get tired of scraping by, call me. Ill have you backno questions asked.
He walked away, leaving behind a faint, resentful note in the air.
After the wedding, Emma and Ben began planning their move. Theyd both been offered jobs in Manchestera bustling city with fresh possibilities, and Emma agreed almost straight away. She wanted a clean slate, away from anything that would drag her back to the past.
Before she left, Emma went to say goodbye to her mother. Margaret received her in frosty silence, standing at the window, turned away.
Were leavingmoving up north, Emma said from the doorway.
So what? Margaret replied, her voice muffled, staring out at rooftops. Running from your problems?
No, Emma shook her head, a calm resolve settling in her. Im running towards happiness. I want you to be part of that, but only if you can respect my choices.
Margaret whirled around, her face contorted by hurt and frustration, a vein throbbing at her temple. Arms crossed, she braced herself.
Respect? she snapped, her voice echoing round the kitchen. Whats there to respect? Youre giving up everythingrunning off with some yoga instructor. What can he offer you? Stability, prospects? You must realise this is all wrong!
Emma felt a leaden weariness settle on her. How many times had she had this argument? She inhaled deeply and met her mothers eye.
Ben is a wonderful man, she said, her voice ringing with a steadiness shed never managed before. He supports me, understands me, respects my choices. With him, I feel secure and at peace. I dont have to be constantly braced for another let-down, Mum. I can be myself.
Peace? Margaret sneered. And you call living in a rented flat in a strange city peace? William wouldve given you everythingholidays, a new car, a renovated house. No, I cant accept this!
***********************
What Emma didnt know was that evening, Margaret phoned Ben. Emma was packing her last boxes when Bens phone rang. He glanced at the unknown number, hesitated, and finally picked up.
Ben, love, came Margarets suddenly syrupy, motherly voice. Im ever so worried about Emma. Shes impulsive. She doesnt think things through. This move is a mistakeshell regret it, by then itll be too late.
Ben listened in silence, calmly gripping his mobile.
You do understand, Margaret pressed, shes not over her divorce. She still loves William, even if she cant admit it. Youre just a distraction. Dont ruin your life for her whims.
Mrs. Harding, Ben interrupted, his tone measured but firm, I appreciate your concern, but I know Emma. I see her becoming more herself, happier each day. I am confident in us.
Oh, youre so naive, Margaret huffed, cutting. You think shell be happy up there? New city, no friendsshell get homesick and realise her mistake. And William will always be waiting for her.
Ben breathed deeply to control his irritation. He pictured Emmas smile, the way she furrowed her brow when concentrating, her laugh. Tenderness surged, and with it, the courage to defend her.
I think its best we end this conversation, he replied quietly but firmly. Emma is a grown woman, shes made her choice. She picked me. I wont let her down.
He hung up, feeling a mix of anger and pity. Poor Emmagrowing up with a mother who saw her only as an extension of her own dreams.
*************************
The next day, Emma dropped in to say goodbye properly, determined to leave some warmth behind. She brought a tin of Margarets favourite shortbread and a simple bouquet of daisiesno frills, but full of life.
Even so, Margaret bristled with new objections.
Cant you reconsider? she fussed about the kitchen, alternately smoothing and scrunching the tea towel. Stay a month, just think. Youre tired, emotional
Ive made up my mind, Mum, Emma replied wearily, feeling that breaking point inside. Its all sorted. Ben and I have a flat by a park, Ive met my new colleagues online, and Bens lined up work at a studio. Everythings falling into place.
Sorted? Margaret spun round, her eyes glittering with anger or tearsit was hard to tell. Hes sorted it, has he? He just wants to keep you away from me, away from William! Here, youd come back to your senses. There, hell have you completely in his grip.
Emma froze. The absurdity and injustice in those words took her breath away. For a moment, she could barely speak. Looking at her mother now, all she saw was a stranger.
Do you honestly believe that? she whispered. That Ben is like that? Manipulative? Controlling?
Arent they all? Margaret replied, arms folded tightly. At least William was honest. This onehe hides behind kindness.
Enough, Emma felt the lump in her throat, tears blurring her vision. Just stop. I cant keep listening to this, I cant keep living with my choices constantly doubted, made to feel guilty for just wanting some happiness.
She turned to leave, but her mother caught her wristhard enough to hurt.
Wait, for the first time, Margarets voice was pleading, almost desperate. Im your mother. I only want the best for you.
Whats best is what I choose for myself, Emma gently freed her arm. I choose Ben. I choose this life. I choose to go somewhere I can be happywithout constant reproach and attempts to change me. Where I can breathe, without waiting for the next I told you so.
Margaret recoiled, pain and anger twisting her features. She let go of Emmas hand, and the last tension fell away from Emmas shoulders.
So thats it? Margaret whispered, voice broken. Youd give up your own mother for a man?
Im not giving you up, Emma felt the tears prick, bitter and hot. Im giving up being controlled. Your values arent mine. I want you to love me as I am. If you cant then we need time apart. Space to think about all this.
As you wish, Margaret turned to the window, shoulders trembling. When you come to your senses, you know where to find me.
Emma lingered for a moment, gazing at the slope of her mothers back, the shock of grey at her temple, the clenched knuckles gripping the windowsill. She longed to hug her, to promise everything would be all rightbut she knew it would be a lie. Quietly, she let herself out, careful not to slam the door. In her pocket sat a phone with a new number, one she wouldnt share with her mumfor now, at least. Maybe, someday, theyd find their way back to a proper conversation. But for now, Emma needed distanceher own blank space, clean and free.
