Emily decided it was time to leave her husband. After all, she wasnt old, and she was still quite pretty. And her husband Tom? He barely noticed her at all these days. He never said she looked nice, didnt comment on her new dress or the fresh cut at the hairdresser. Meanwhile, there was Bernard from next door, who always noticed these things. Whenever they happened to meet, he would say, Well, Mrs. Emily Carter, you look as pretty as a daisy in that dress. Youll have all the butterflies fluttering round you today. Hed even kiss her hand. Meanwhile, her own husband stayed silent. He just lugged bags filled with potatoes home and brought in new wallpaper for the bedroom. No time to kiss his wifes handhed either be beneath the old Ford, legs sticking out, trying to fix it because Emily needed the car to get to her salon appointment, or busy doing something else around the house.
There hed be, only his muddy work boots visible from under the car, and he couldnt possibly tell her her dress looked nice at times like that. Or shed make a soup, and Tom would eat every last spoonful, mopping up the bottom with a crust of bread, but never mentioning whether it was tasty. Hed quietly pour himself a cup of tea and munch on a biscuit, silent as always. You couldnt get a peep out of him.
So when a flat in the block next door went up for rent, Emily made up her mind. Ill leave, she thought. He doesnt appreciate me. Never says a word! Always pottering about, forever busy. I cant even get him to go to the theatrehed rather just watch the telly at home. That was always his answer.
The new flat was furnished, and Emily began to take out her own things, not all at once, but bit by bit. Shed come in the evening, pack a few dresses neatly into a bag, and leave. The next day shed come again, to fetch her teapot and the nice Crockery set.
Tom said nothing. He just got thinner. Take whatever you need, Em. Maybe you want a hand with anything? was all he said.
Then, mid-September, the weather suddenly turned cold. One evening after work, Emily went back to her old home to collect her warm coat. Tom was frying potatoes in the kitchen. Right there in the hallway, curled up on the mat, was a dog. The poor thing was skin and bone, its fur a tangled, dirty mess. When Emily came in, the dog tried to stand on its thin, trembling legs, but only managed to wag its scraggy tail.
Tom, whats this? Where did you find this poor thing? Emily asked.
She wandered up to the garage this morning and hasnt budged since. Can barely walk for hunger. I carried her in and made her a bit of porridge, Tom replied.
Tom, perhaps we should wash her? Ill help. Some warm water and a touch of soap, gently. So together, they cleaned up the dog, wrapped her in a towel. The dog, grateful and warm, tried her best to lick themas if to thank themsometimes on the nose, sometimes on the cheek. Emily and Tom laughed, reluctantly dodging her tongue. Then they gave her more porridge and sat watching her eat.
Afterwards, Tom said, Ive fried some potatoesfancy staying for supper? Emily agreed. They had dinner together, discussing what to name the dog. Tom came up with all sorts of silly names that made Emily laugh, but in the end, they settled on the name Daisy. Later on, when they sat down for tea, Tom brought out some little chocolate cakes from the fridge, putting them neatly on a nice plate. Help yourself, Em. I know you like these little chocolate sponges.
I do. Did you expect me? Emily asked.
I did. Its cold now, and your only coat is here, so I patched up your boots too. Glued the sole back onshould hold properly now. Take them with you, otherwise youll freeze out there. Take care of yourself. Are you crying, Em?
Outside, the rain drummed on the windows. The few passersby hurried home under umbrellas, knowing someone was waiting for them. Theyd glance up, searching for their own lit window among the hundreds and smile quietly to themselves, comforted by the glow.
I hope everyone finds that personsomeone who waits for them. Today, I finally understood that sometimes, real care is shown in little silent acts, not in fancy words or gestures. And its easy to overlook devotion when youre not really looking.
