It Hurts, But Just Once
“Will you stay tonight?” Emily asked quietly, her voice trembling just slightly. “The kids miss you terribly…”
James didnt even turn around. He kept stuffing clean shirts, pants, and socks into his holdall with a methodical briskness.
“Mums waiting,” he muttered over his shoulder. “I cant leave her there alonesurely you understand, Em? What are you, a child?”
There was nothing Emily could say to that. What use was there repeating the same things? That Michael had asked, just last night, why Daddy never came to read him his bedtime story anymore? That Sophie had stopped running for the door at the sound of keys in the lock? Shed already said all of it, over and over, each time finding new words or a new tone.
None of it ever mattered.
With a final tug, James zipped up his bag and shrugged on his jacket.
“I’ll ring you,” he said from the hallway.
Emily stared at the closed door for a long while after hed gone, trying to remember the last time James called just to ask how she or the children were. Not to ask after his old jumper or those winter boots, but just to check into talk…
She couldnt recall a single time.
“Mum!” Michaels cry rang out from the childrens room. “Sophies taken my cars again!”
Emily shook herself and went to the kids. Thats what matteredbeing a mother first. Michael and Sophie needed her. Everything else could fade into the background…
The following day, Emily found herself sitting in a cramped café across from her friend Charlotte. With the children at nursery, she had two hours to herselfa luxury that used to feel extravagant, but now seemed to stretch out in grim anticipation.
“How are you, Em, really?” Charlotte peered at her with concern. “The bags under your eyes could probably house a small animal. Are you sleeping at all?”
Emily managed a weak smile, idly stirring her cold coffee.
“James still hasnt come back.”
“Not at all?”
“No, Charlotte. Its been two months. I dont even know if theres anything left worth saving. Were not a family anymore. Theres nothing binding us but a ring and a flat he never sets foot in.”
“Dont the children tie you two together?”
Emily stared down at the brown coffee foam ringed around her cup.
“Theyve stopped asking about him. Stopped searching. Michaels only five, Sophie fourtwo months is a lifetime for them. When I say Daddy, Michael looks at me like Ive mentioned a stranger.”
Charlotte shook her head. “How could he just abandon you? For what, Emily?”
A hollow laugh escaped Emilys lips. “For his dear old mum, of course. Everythings always about herHelen is the sun, and the rest of us just satellites on the outer edge.”
Charlottes brow furrowed. “Didnt James dad pass three months ago? By now, surely she could manage on her own. Why hold on to her son like that?”
Emilys cup clattered onto its saucer, cold coffee sloshing over the rim. “Shes always been the centre of attention. Her husband indulged her every whimworshipped her, really. Now hes gone, and her worlds collapsed. She calls James constantlyshe needs something, shes lonely, she fancies fresh berries, the list is endless. James always runs to her. He said it was temporary, just until she finds her feet again. Two months latertemporary seems pretty permanent. Ive stopped waiting for him to come home.”
“What are you going to do?”
Emily just shrugged and gazed out at the grey city street, watching people hurry on with their own tangled lives.
“I dont know. I have no plan…”
Another month limped by. Summer kicked inhot and dusty. The childrens holidays began. Emily was sorting through summer clothes when the phone rang.
“Emmy, my love, come visit me,” her mother, Margaret, called warmly. “I’ve got plenty of space in the village, things to do. Escape the city and all your worries. The kids will have fresh air, youll find some peace.”
Emily agreed in an instant. She didnt even tell James this timewhat was the point? Hed shown no interest. He probably wouldnt notice at all.
Margarets house welcomed them with the smell of freshly baked bread. Michael and Sophie squealed with delight and tore off into the garden, where chickens pecked and a proud ginger rooster eyed them suspiciously.
Margaret sat her daughter at the big kitchen table, set a cherry pie before her, and poured out tea into a battered violet-patterned mug Emily remembered from childhood.
“Go on, love, tell me,” her mother said gently, taking the seat opposite. “Youre all bottled up, and I can see its gnawing you to the bone.”
Emily wanted to brush it offto claim she was just tired, that all was well. But her chin trembled, and tears ran down her cheeks before she even realised.
“James left, Mum. Two months ago. For his mother. He hasnt come back, not once. He doesnt even call.”
Margaret silently came round the table, wrapped her arms around her daughter, stroking her hair and back as if she were a wounded child again.
“Its good you came here, pet,” she whispered. “No need for you to suffer in that flat alone. Stay as long as you likethe whole summer, if it suits. The children will run free, and you can breathe. Well see what comes next.”
Emily nodded into her mothers shoulder, finally exhaling a breath she hadnt known she was holding.
The summer passed in a long, golden blur, filled with sunlight and the scent of cut grass. Michael learned to milk a goat and boasted about it to anyone whod listen. Sophie became fast friends with Daisy from next door; together, they made flower crowns and fed rabbits, built dens in the orchard. Emily simply rested, helped her mother, occasionally read on the veranda, let her thoughts idle. She didnt make plans or try to piece together something broken beyond repair.
By the end of August, it was time to head back. Nursery would start soon; they had to return to London life. Only as Emily packed, did she suddenly realise: James hadnt once been in touch all summer. Three monthsno calls, no texts, not even an enquiry about the children.
She hugged her mother tightly as they said goodbye, promised more calls, then took the kids home.
The flat smelled of stale air and dust. A dirty cup with old coffee rings sat on the kitchen table; Emily knew shed left everything spotless before they left. So James had come in, had coffee, and vanished againhadnt even bothered to rinse up.
She settled the children with cartoons and got to cleaning, scrubbing away dust and crumbs and trying, without success, not to think about what it meant.
September slid in quietly. The kids started nursery, daily routines resumed. Then, one day, with Michael and Sophie gone, a key turned in the lock.
James walked in as though hed never left. He looked tanned, well-rested, calm. As if the last few months had never happened.
“Alright, Em. Ive come for a few things.”
Emily stared at him in disbelief.
“For a few things?”
He glanced around. “Yeah. Mum wants my old blue jumperyou know, the one she knitted. She wants to update the sleeves.”
And then it all broke loose inside Emilythe anger, the hurt, the disappointment, everything pent up for months.
“Do you even realise weve not been here all summer?” Her voice tightened and rose. “Three bloody months, James! We were with my mother! Your childrendo you remember you even have children?”
He blinked, confusion flickering across his face.
“I thought you were here”
“You didnt even call!” Emily stepped forward, shaking. “Not once! Did you know if we were safe? Alive? Did you give a damn?”
“Em, Mum really needed me, she”
“I dont care about your mother!” Emilys voice broke. “You have a family! A son and daughter! Theyre five and four, and theyve forgotten you! And youve forgotten them!”
James went pale.
“Thats not fair. Youre exaggerating”
“Exaggerating?!” Emily laughed bitterly. “Youre a terrible father, James. And an even worse husband. You chose herso be it! Spend the rest of your days with your mum!”
“I did it all for Mum,” James snapped, his own voice rising. “Shes all alone. Shes grieving. How can you not see that?”
“And Im supposed to be fine, am I?” Emily stepped up, face to face. “Alone with two young children, no help, not so much as a single phone call?”
“Thats different”
“No, James! Its not. You made your choiceand it wasnt us.”
He stepped back, a flicker of understanding finally crossing his features. But Emily was done caring.
She inhaled, and peacecold, clearsettled over her, quenching the flames of fury.
“Fine,” Emily said evenly. “Be the good son. But youre no longer a husband, nor a father.”
“Whats that supposed to mean?” James frowned.
“Im filing for divorce. Tomorrow.”
James recoiled as if shed doused him in ice water.
“Em, wait. Cant we talk? I can fix this, I”
“No,” Emily shook her head. “You cant. Its too late. Go on, James. Most of your things are with your mum anyway. Take your blue jumperand go.”
He stammered, searching for words, but Emily was already holding the front door open wide, clear in her intent.
“Go. Now.”
James left. This time, for good.
The divorce was swift; the flat remained Emilysher grandmothers legacy, never Jamess to claim. The children stayed with her.
A week after it was all made official, Charlotte called by, hugging Emily tight, not letting go for several moments.
“You did the right thing,” Charlotte said quietly. “You ripped the plaster off in one go. Hurts, but only once. Now youre free.”
Emily nodded.
“I honestly thought it would be harder,” she said softly. “But I feel lighter. Like Ive set down a heavy rucksack at last.”
“Because youve stopped waiting,” Charlotte smiled. “Stopped hoping hed change. Youve let him go, along with that rotten marriage.”
Michael and Sophies laughter floated from the playroom as they argued over whod top off their block tower.
“Theyll be alright,” Charlotte assured her. “Kids are resilient. And theyve got you.”
Emily smiled, truly, for the first time in months. She would manage. They all would. Everything would, someday, be just fine.
