A Man of Principle
Simon lost his temper over nothing, really. At first, Emily didnt even understand quite what was happening.
You sat at the same table as him? Simons voice was icy. With a man whos cheating on his wife with your friend?
Simon, thats not my business. Or yours! she tried to stay calm, though she could already feel anger bubbling inside. I was just meeting Claire for a chat. There was a group. Am I supposed to check the moral character of everyone I have coffee with?
For me, its about principles. I cant see how a woman of mine would choose to spend time with such people.
Im not your possession. And my friends are not your concern.
Simon looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first timeas if shed betrayed him.
…They argued until they were hoarse. He talked of honour, of moral standards, of not being able to be with someone who condones that sort of thing. He insisted: she shouldnt spend time with people who didnt fit his sense of right and wrong. Emily tried to explain that she was a grown woman, shed decide who to sit at a table with, thank you very much. Her friendship with Claire was twenty years strongit didnt depend on who Claire was seeing.
It got nowhere.
The next day, Simon was silent. She was too. Then came a message: Maybe we should take a break. Emily smirked. A break. At forty-three. She replied curtly, Were not children. No breaks. If its over, its over.
And the silence settled in.
***
Three days later, she caught herself remembering the good start theyd hadas if rewinding a tape, trying to spot the moment things had gone wrong.
Theyd met at a dinner party. Simon had caught her eye straight awaytall, fit, eyes the colour of the Channel on a stormy day. Divorced, two grown-up children, director of a construction firm. A grown man, no melodrama.
Hed looked at her with a kind of amazed interest, as though women like her hadnt crossed his path for a long time. Where have you been hiding? said those eyes. Shed played it cool, but deep down, shed felt a spark.
You look like a woman who knows how to be happy, hed said, asking her for a dance.
I do, shed smiled. Doesnt always work out, though.
It will, hed said, with quiet confidence. I know it.
Emily had laughed. Wheres all this confidence coming from?
…For six months, it really did feel like a fairy tale. Morning phone calls, thoughtful messages, flowers for no reason, little trips to the countryside. Hed introduced her to friends, always said the right thing, looked at her like she was a treasure.
I earned you, Simon would say, over and over.
Shed believed himnot blindly (life had taught her that much), but shed believed him. He was an adult, not playing games.
Emily sat in her kitchen with a cup of tea, turning it all over in her mind. Strangely, it didnt hurt. Just a calm, almost clinical curiosity. Was this a tantrum? A test? Or a deeply held principle?
She remembered that before that evening with Claire, shed texted her friend: Lets see how Simon handles my girls night. Shed expected complaints. She just didnt know what type.
Well, now she knew.
Hes cut me off because of who Im friends with, she thought. All because my forty-year-old mate is seeing a married man. What does he think, I approve of it? Simon must be living on Mars. Or hes worried I think cheating is normal. But reallydo abstract principles outweigh everything we had? Do the sins of people hes never even met matter more than whats real and heartfelt?
She remembered his father and grandfatherboth in the Army, strict, raised on honour and duty rather than feelings or acceptance. Simon had always told her, A man must be strong, stick to his principles, never bow.
So where are you now, Simon? Happy in your integrity? she smirked at the thought. Lonely, but at least you kept your precious values.
Suddenly, she could see it all so clearly: Simon was testing her. Prove to me our relationship means youll do as youre told. If shed started justifying, apologising, proving herselfhed take it as normal. Simon messes upEmily smooths it over. Next time, hed push further. In a year, shed be asking permission: Can I see my friend tonight?
And if she ever did slip uphed never forgive her.
No, she said aloud to the empty kitchen. Thank you, but no.
***
A week later, she met Claire in the same café. Claire looked sheepishly at her coffee.
Its my fault, dragging my lover along, Claire said.
Its not your fault, Emily replied firmly. Dont give it a second thought. The problem isnt you or him. The problem is Simon trying to teach me a lesson.
So, what now? Think hell come back?
Hes already messaged.
And?
I didnt reply.
Claires eyebrows shot up. So, youve made your decision?
Emily shrugged. If I give in now, Ill just be making it normal for him. Itll become our thing: he does wrong, I fix it. Thats not a relationshipits me babysitting. Ive been the eternal fixer before. Now I just want to be a woman, thank you.
And if he apologised? Understood?
I dont know, Emily answered honestly. Maybe. But he didnt apologisehe just sent, Lets meet and talk. No Sorry, no I was wrong. Just talk. That means: let me explain why youre wrong again. No, thanks.
Men! Claire sighed. Youd think theyd surprise us, just once.
They will, Emily laughed. Just not this time.
***
Simon messaged two weeks later.
Hi. I miss you. Can we meet and talk?
Emily read the text three times, then put the phone down and went to make a cup of tea. She picked up the phone again and typed:
Hi. I dont want to meet. What happened isnt about me. Im not going to justify who I sit with, or prove Im right. If thats a problem for you, its your problem. Good luck.
She sent it. And breathed out.
An hour later, his reply came: long, muddled, complaints and excuses. You wont listen, I tried for you, Youre selfish. Emily read it with a smile. By the book.
She didnt reply. Not in a day, not in three, not in a week. Simon kept writingfirst touchy, then confused, then almost pleading. Emily read the messages in silence.
Because there was nothing left to say. Everything had already been said.
A month later, she realised shed all but forgotten what he looked like. All that remained was a faint, warm memory: something lovely, but over quickly, like fireworksbrilliant, and then gone.
***
Three months passed.
Emily was walking along the riverbank. Evening, sunset, a gentle breeze. A man beside hera new friend. An engineer, also divorced, kids of his own. Spoke little, but to the point. Didnt check up on her, didnt demand, didnt set terms. Just walked by her side. For now.
Bit chilly? he asked, noticing her shiver.
A little.
He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. In silence.
Thank you.
Youre welcome.
They strolled on. The silence was comforting, not stifling.
Emily thought: maybe this is it. Or maybe not. But she wasnt interested in testing it. She just wanted to enjoy the momentthe walk, the sunset, the simple fact that someone was beside her who didnt need her to prove anything.
Her phone pingeda message from Claire. Emily glanced at it and smiled. Then she put away her phone and looked back at the river. Shed heard, through friends, that Simon was now seeing a younger woman, one who gazed at him in adoration and agreed with everything.
Emily had heard, and feltnot satisfaction, but a trace of sadness. For him, not for herself. Because he still hadnt learned: love is not about power. Its about freedom.
But that was no longer her story.
