The Year of Solitude: Six Years of Testing Life Without a Loved One
It’s been six years since Emma found herself suddenly alone, ever since her husband walked out on her. A year ago, her daughter got married and moved to Manchester.
At forty-two, I mused that Emma was in her primea wonderful age, really. A kind of second youth, if anything. She ran a home like no other, with a knack for cooking. Her homemade chutney and pickled tomatoes were the pride of any gathering. But now whod eat all that? The shelves on her balcony simply gathered empty jars, dust lining the glass.
Surely, I wont go to waste alone, not looking as good as I do! Emma would tell her friends, only half-joking. Theyd encourage her: Dont be daft! There are lots of single men out therego find one!
One friend even suggested she try the Best Gentleman agency. Emma thought the idea a bit barmy, truth be told, and still felt odd admitting to needing help. But forty-two nagged at her. Her nans old grandfather clock on the wall ticked those wasted hours rather loudly.
Eventually, Emma gave in and went to the agency. There, a cheery lady in raspberry-tinted glasses greeted her.
Youve come to the right place. Lets have a look through the files together, shall we? Pull up a chair!
Emma raised an eyebrow and smiled at the lineup of candidates on the screen. Theyre a handsome lot. But how do you know if someones right? How do you tell?
Its all planned out, replied the woman. You get a whole week togetherenough time to see if its worth carrying on or if youd rather try someone else.
A week? What do you mean? Emma queried.
Just that! He stays with you for a week. Look, were all adults here, love. No weirdos, no time-wasters.
Emma found herself warming to the notion. She and the raspberry-glassed receptionist picked out five blokes. Emma paid a modest feejust a couple of crisp twenty-pound notesand hurried home. The first candidate was due that very evening.
She put on her green dressthe colour of hopeand donned diamond earrings she rarely wore. When the doorbell chimed, she peeked through the spyhole: roses. A little squeal of delight escaped her. She opened the door, and the man standing there looked as dapper as he did in his profile picture, roses in hand.
They sat down to dinner; Emma had pulled out all the stops. The bouquet sat in the centre of the table. Stealing glances, she thought, Thats it. Hes the one. I dont need to see the others.
But as they dug into the salad, the would-be suitor frowned. Bit heavy-handed with the salt, arent we? Emma forced a smile and offered him roast duck. He chewed and grimaced. Rather tough, isnt it? Nothing pleased him. Flustered by his criticism, Emma forgot the wine shed spent ages picking out. Pouring two glasses, she toasted, Well, heres to meeting new people! He gave it a sniff, sipped, and replied, Cheap stuff, isnt it? Then he stood up. Lets see what the rest of the place is like, shall we?
Emma rose, held out the bouquet and calmly declared, I actually dont care for roses. Goodbye, then.
That night, a few tears slipped down her cheeks. It hurt. But there were four more to go.
The second man arrived the following evening, marching in with a loud Evening! reeking of whisky. Emma asked, Already celebrating our meeting somewhere? He grinned, Oh, dont fuss! Got a telly? Its the UnitedCity derby tonight. We can chat during the game. Emma replied coolly, If you want to watch football, do it at your own place.
Another night, more lonely tears.
The third candidate appeared a day later. No looker, older jacket, grubby fingernails, shoes caked in mud. Emma racked her brain for a polite exit, but offered him a meal first. He tucked in hungrily, gushing with praise. She blushed. They moved onto her famous pickles.
He exclaimed, mouth full, Lord above! Thats the best thing Ive ever eaten!
That was when the grandfather clocks chimed. He cocked an ear. Whats that racket? Off he went to investigate, climbing onto a stool to fiddle with the clocks. Ill have these going right as rain in a jiffy! Got a toolkit?
Soon, the clocks chimed cleanly and brightly. Emma felt a surge of simple happiness at that gentle sound. Maybe this shabby man was fates answer: kind, handy, and it wasnt as if muddy shoes couldnt be cleaned. Third times the charm, after all.
As night fell, Emma got herself readybeauty salon trip, expensive sheets with large roses (she really did like roses, despite what shed said). When she came out from the bathroom, her guest was already dozing, fully dressed. Undeterred, Emma looked at him with affectionPoor chap, must be tiredand slipped under the covers beside him.
Then: disaster. The man began to snore. Not delicately, but with an intensity and volume that shook the room. Emma tried everythingpillows, gentle nudges, rolling him overbut nothing worked. She lay awake, suffering all night.
In the morning, he shuffled to the kitchen, where Emma sat, bleary-eyed.
Well? When should I bring my things over? he asked.
Emma shook her head. No, my dear, sorry. Youre lovely but no.
The fourth, a bearded chap, reminded Emma of a character from an old British adventure film. She even let him smoke in the kitchen. Puffing away, he said, Emma, lets get this straight. Im a free manlove my fishing trips and weekends away with mates. And I cant stand being nagged or told where I am, alright?
She watched as he flicked ash into her orchids pot and asked, You dont mind a bit of female company when youre out, do you? He smirked, Why not? Told youfreedoms what lifes about!
After he left, Emma aired out the kitchen for hours. Her head pounded, she felt completely worn out, as if life itself had drained away. She didnt even bother washing the dishes.
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, and the garden birds chirped outside. Suddenly, Emma felt alright again. It was Saturday. Nowhere to rush, no one to pester, no nagging, no snoring, no fuss. The dishes? Shed do them when she fancied. The peace and freedom felt just right.
Then the phone rang. Emma? Its the Best Gentleman Agency. Youve got another candidate today! This onehes perfect, hes really your match!
Emma practically shouted down the receiver, Cross me off your books! Delete me from your files! No more, thank you! The best gentleman of all is the one who isnt here!
Laughing, she drew back the curtains and let the sun in.
I suppose what I learned was this: sometimes, true peace and contentment lie in enjoying your own company, and not in the constant search for someone else to fill the silence.
The Years of Loneliness: Six Years of Heartache Without a Loved One
