A Suitcase Without a Handle
“What more do you want? We already live together. Why on earth do you need all that marriage fuss? Want a ring and a registry stamp? Is that more important than my love? More important than what I do for you every single day?” Matthews voice grew more heated as he spoke, while Alice, careful and patient, set the iron gently onto its stand, wary that her patience might also soon reach its limit.
“I never once asked you for rings or stamps. All I did was ask: whats next? Matthew, its been nearly six years now. We live together, day in, day out.”
“And whats wrong with that? Loads of people live this way their entire lives. No obligations or strings to tie them down. They love freely, never glancing back, never minding what others say or think. Why should we care about all those silly formalities? I dont need themdo you?”
Feeling she might burst, Alice hung Matthews last shirt in the wardrobe and quietly left the room.
It wasnt the first time theyd spoken of this, and Alice never wanted to start these talks. The first ended in a row so grand that they split up for half a year, not even ringing one another. Back then, Alice had nearly come to terms with it all. Shed never liked rows, nor excelled at standing up for herself. Whenever she tried, tearsalways closewould appear at the worst moments. Shed been a crier since she was a child. Where others laughed, Alice wept. Why she was so, neither she nor her parents knew. Her mother often scolded, trying to “toughen her up,” while her father always comforted her, saying,
“My little waterworks! Wont have to water the parlor ferns, just bring you in! Come on, whats upset you this time? Whos been unkind?”
You might spend ages seeking an answer. And when they would discover that Alice was in tears because she felt sorry for a fly her mother had swatted in the kitchenwhat if it had a family?her parents laughed, and shed cry harder, wounded that no one understood her.
As she grew, the foolish reasons faded, but Alice kept cryingover books, over dramas. Shed cry watching someone help an old lady across the street or rescue a kitten from a tree, simply because it moved her.
Matthew met her in just such a moment, as Alice, teary-eyed, watched the golden leaves tumble in the park.
He was a serious fellow. No great wonderhed grown up with three older sisters and a mother and grandmother, drilling into him what it meant to be a man. Men never cry. Not even a whimper. Matthew learnt early that only girls were allowed tears, and even then, only the foolish ones. The clever girlshis sisters includedstood up for themselves and him, giving short shrift to any bullies. By the time Matthew demanded to be enrolled in wrestling club rather than karate (the latter his sisters domain), theyd stopped teasing and his grandmother sternly reminded them, “Hows he to become a man with three harpies guarding him? Let him learn to fend for himself!”
Once he began coming home with wrestling medals, battered nose, and a broken wristin time, he became one of the boys. His sisters let him be and tended to their own troubles.
Hed learnt well that these days women werent the weaker sex. Which is why, when he asked Alice “whod wronged her” and she shook her head and replied, “Its just so beautiful,” he didnt see his sisters in her, but a gentle, delicate soul hed never met before.
Matthew loved everything about Alice: her soft voice, never raised like voices raised at home; her light, bell-like laughter, so rare one had to earn it; her clever but sometimes mysterious humour.
“Im slow as an old cart horse! Only just now got your joke from yesterday,” hed chuckle, shrugging at Alices confused glance.
They were happy together. Once Matthew started working, while finishing his final year of university, theyd moved in togetherdespite Alices parents protests.
“Alice, it isnt right!” her mother, Helen, would say. “What isnt right, Mum? We love each other. Why is living together so wrong?”
Helen watched her daughter gently, precisely folding blouses and skirtsso many more than trousers or the jeans everyone else wore nowadays. “A real Turgenev heroine,” she thought, shivering. She then gently laid her hand on Alices stack of shirts.
“Its not right because you might find yourself a suitcase without a handle.”
“Whats that supposed to mean?” Alice froze mid-fold, uncertain whether she dared tug at the shirt beneath her mothers hand.
“It means, darling, you might one day find that Matthew tires of your domestic life. With no commitments, hell feel free to leave or do as he pleases. As for you? Youll find youre stuckhe wont toss you aside, not after so many years, and yet, to go ontheres little sense. Hard to carry on, but too hard to let go. Thats what I meanheavy to haul, but cant abandon.”
Alice straightened, hugging herself, thinking. “But people divorce after getting married, dont they? Are things so different if theres a piece of paper?”
“I dont know, love. To me, if a man asks you to marry him, it means hes ready to be responsibleready for family. Maybe Im old-fashioned. These days its in vogue to shirk all commitments as if life stretches out forever. I want you to know, as your mother, it pains me. I wish youd set off into your new life not simply swinging a suitcase, but to the Wedding March.”
Alice hugged her mother then, pressing her lips to her cheek, not daring to say more, for fear shed upset her further. She didnt want to admit that it upset her, too. Matthew never hinted he wanted her to be his wife. Perhaps not now, but one day Theyd simply never spoken about it.
“Im so happy with you!” Matthew would kiss Alice at her doorstep. “I cant bear to be apart a minute. Imagine, now I must trudge home, and wait until tomorrow to see you. Ugh! Life would be easier if we lived together, Alice. No goodbyes, no sneaking around, no worries about my sisters catching us. Only they get to come and go as they like. Why not me?”
“Why?”
“Im the baby! They fuss over me. What if someone breaks my heart?”
“Me, for instance?”
“Ha. They seem to like you, but perhaps theyre just sussing you out. Like vipers. Who knows.”
“Matthew!” Alice wriggled out of his arms in mock offence. “Theyre your sisters!”
“So what? Viper fits. Smart, beautiful, and deadly. Not quick to strike, but heaven help anyone who angers them.”
“Lucky you,” Alice smiled, snuggling close again.
“How so?”
“Youve sisters. Im an only child.”
“Want one of mine? Theres plenty to go round.” And Matthew would kiss her nose, leaving them both giggling.
Thats how their talks would usually enduntil a week ago, when Matthew came storming in with news after his first pay packet.
“My uncleyou know, the one I told you about? Off abroad again. He doesnt want to let out his place to strangers, so hes asked me to move in and keep an eye on it for him. The only hitch: Ill need to care for Dickens, his bulldog. But thats nothing, right?”
Alice hesitated. Of course, it was tempting. Yet Matthew never said what this move meant to him. Turned out, there was nothing between the lineshed always been frank as a ploughmans boy. Living together meant just that to him, and nothing else.
They moved in to Uncles flat, walked Dickens each night, made meals, shopped, shared the last pastrysimply lived. But with no forward motion.
So a year passed, then two, then three. Alice began visiting her parents more. She watched old schoolmates with children and realised she missed something. What, she couldnt say. She didnt fancy a grand white wedding or the like. No. But when she saw Molly, her old school desk-mate, twirling her wedding ring and grumbling about her husband, Alice longed for her own tale. To say, “Well, mine does just that!” Complain about socks left out and unwashed cups. To point to a baby in a pram and shake her head fondly, “The spitting image of his dad! Not an ounce of me in himwhat if he takes after him, even in temperament?”
Thislove, certainty, family, however old-fashionedsuddenly felt right.
But Matthew didnt see it.
“Why get married? Spend half a year or more saving up for the wedding, feed fifty guestsmost of whom well never meet againjump through silly games, then snog under a chorus of kiss!is that what you want?”
“No!” Alice was nearly in tears trying to explain. “I just want us to be more than simply housemates, Matthew!”
“You are everything to me, Alice. My world! Isnt that enough?” He looked so puzzled that Alice dropped the subject.
But todays talk left a deeper bruise. After downing two glasses of water, Alice stood in the kitchen window, listening to Dickens, Uncles English bulldog, snore in his bed.
Dick, as they called him, became her confidant. When she needed to pour out her heartknowing shed get no lectures, only patient doggy sighs.
Now, settling cross-legged by his side, Alice scratched his ears as he woke and sneezed. She smiled sadly.
“Enjoying life, Dick? Im not. Why am I so hopeless, unable to explain myself? Or do I just do a terrible job of it? Its daft I know you agree. Ive got to try differently, but heaven knows how…”
Dick just rested his head on her knee, snuffling softly. Alice stroked his fur, but the dissatisfaction inside her grew.
Why should she have to always explain or ask for what she needed? When had she and Matthew switched roles? Had they always been like this, simply embracing the roles theyd taken on long ago?
“Wheres your gumption, Alice?!” she scolded, tapping her knee so that Dick barked uncertainly. “Sorry, love, but I think Ill have to leave you now.”
Having decided on something she scarcely understood herself, Alice got up and went to the bedroom, where Matthew slept peacefully. She watched him for a long time, weighing her choice, then quietly took out her suitcase and began packing.
Her parents were flustered to see her return home in the night, letting herself in with her old keys, but asked nothing. Her mother brought her hot milk, which triggered another flood of tears, before tucking her up as she had in childhood.
“Mum”
“Yes, love?” Helen paused in the doorway, watching her tearful girl.
“I dont want to be a suitcase…”
“Then dont be! No ones forcing you.”
“But I love him…”
Helen came and sat on her daughters bed, taking Alices fine hand in hers. “When you were small, you always said youd be a princess, locked in your tower waiting for your princeremember how you fashioned a plait out of my dressing gown belt?”
Alice laughed through tears, recalling the childhood fancythe belt, her mums high-heeled shoes, the veil first used as a pram cover, then appropriated for her royal wardrobe. Shed climb onto the back of the settee and let her makeshift plait tumble to the floor, then simply wait.
“And then Gran told you that princes are few and far between, and its best to find a good lad wholl love and cherish youa far more sensible plan, she said. You agreedbeing a princess was fine, but waiting got boring. He should hurry up, you saidremember?”
Alice crawled from beneath the covers to hug her mother.
“So you think I need to think a while? To decide whether Im giving up my prince?”
“You said it, not me. But the thought appeals to me. I want you to be happy. And if this prince cant make you happy, perhaps you need to seek another, hm?”
Alice was speechless; she barely understood herself. Her moods swung wildly from tears to laughter and back again.
They chatted quietly well into the night, careful not to wake Alices father. At last, Alice settled, feeling at home, loved, safe. But with Matthewshe wasnt so sure anymore.
She slept only at dawn, while her mother, glancing at the clock, went to grab a precious hour before work. Alice, blessed with a day off, slept till nearly noon, then made herself breakfast, forgot her diet and, curling under a warm blanket, decided shed better have a proper cry in peace.
She replayed in her mind all the good moments with Matthew, but the tears wouldnt come. Thoughts, though, raced along at a dizzying speed, until Alice, echoing her fathers gruff voice, muttered, “Fools fatten on fretting, Alice! Enough! You leftdone is done. Nothing changes by brooding on what could or should have been.” She even said it aloudjust as the doorbell rang.
She felt a wave of dreadif it was Matthew, thered be another row, shed forgive him, slip her parents a note, and return to that flatvowing never again to mention marriage, for nothing ever changed. And that stung. Grown though she was, every girlhowever boldly she insisted otherwisebelieved in fairy tales, in weddings, in someone to listen, support and cherish her. Every woman, deep down, wanted to be someones beloved princess, even minus the tower and plait.
Alice mused while the bell still rang incessantly, then finally bundled herself out of the blanket and opened the door. She was struck speechless.
All three of Matthews sisters stood there, the eldest, Martha, juggling a shrieking baby.
“Help! Wheres your bathroom?” Martha called, disappearing down the hall with her son.
Deborah and Natalie handed Alice heavy bags, marching to the kitchen, asking, “Parents home? Good! Got the day off? Even better!”
In minutes, theyd laid the table and sat Alice down, calling, “Martha! Hurry up! Time for a summit!”
“Were here to do a bit of matchmaking!” Natalie declared. “We offer youwell, youre the goods, arent you?! And our clientpfff!is a fool! So, how about it, Alice? Ready to marry our scatterbrained brother?”
Alice hiccupped in surprise.
“And where is he?”
“Nursing his cowardice. Hes terrified to come after those things he said yesterday about weddings and marriage. But we gave him a proper talking tohell be mulling his ways for a long time yet.” Martha, pacifying her child, took a sip of bubbly. “Ah, woe is parenting! I do admire Nanny Plum!”
“Whats that to you?” Deborah took the baby, replacing him with a glass for Martha. “Yours is only little still.”
“Planning ahead. Dont want him growing up a tumbleweed, afraid of life. He wants his freedoms? Ha! Either he acts the man, or I disown him! Hes strung you along all these yearslucky you, Alice, for being so patient! Why?”
“I love the silly oaf,” Alice pushed back Natalies proffered glass.
“Not drinking?”
“Not sure I can.”
Three pairs of eyes widened like teacups. The sisters exhaled in unison, “No!”
Alice smiled sheepishly, offering a shrug. “Im not entirely sure yet”
“But you hope so?” Martha squinted. When Alice nodded, Martha crowed, “That calls for a drink! Dearsan aunt to be! Hurray!”
The glasses chimed, and Alice broke down sobbing.
“Whats wrong?” Deborah fussed, darting for water. Two glasses appeared as Martha pressed her baby into Alices arms.
“Here, practise! And stop those tears, or youll drop him!”
Truly, Alice stopped crying once she held the baby. Sniffing his downy scalp, she asked, “Martha, is giving birth frightening?”
“Not at all. Afterwards, yes, for then youve someone new and no instructions. Beforehandhonestly, its not bad! Just make sure Matthew starts being a dad earlylet him fetch cravings, pick up odd groceries for you.”
“Is that necessary?”
“It matters for order and morale! Hell eat the rest anywaymen are easy to feed. But keep him busy, so he learns that bringing up a child is real work for both.”
“Husband” Alices eyes filled again; Natalie gently took back the baby. “Where is my husband? I dont even have a fiancé”
“You will!” Martha grinned at her sisters. “Dont start crying again!”
“I just dont want to be a suitcase”
“Ah! The old suitcase without a handle!” Deborah laughed. “Didnt your mum warn you before you moved in with Matthew?”
“She did”
“Mums advice is worth heeding! Ours said similarif you leave home so, youd better mean it. She grew us for loving, not for flinging about. And said to use our headsnot anything else, or wed end up like those jokes: tried, but not chosen. Sorry, you cant edit out the truth!”
Martha peered out the window, calling, “Mount your brooms, girlserr, I mean, take up your horses! Official guests have arrived.”
Matthew narrowly missed his sisters at the door, fending off three departing quick-witted jibes and blowing a single kiss after them.
“Just you hurt her again” Martha hissed, balancing her son on her hip and marching out.
Of course, Alice forgave her muddled lover. She didnt agree at once to marry himgranting herself a pause to think. The sisters, on hearing, burst into arm-waving gales of laughter.
“Alice is one of us! Take her!”
In time, her worries were unfounded. The first son she bore Matthew arrived two years later, half that spent wondering if such happiness was worth accepting, or whether therejust possiblywas another “prince” lurking out there. She played it stern, but when Matthew slipped a ring onto her finger, her joy was so guileless he saw again the teary girl in the autumn park.
For their wedding, they invited only their parents and Matthews sisters. The grand affair theyd saved for quietly dissolved the day Alice, beaming at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, burst out,
“I say yes!”
Bleary-eyed, Matthew took a moment to realise what she meant. “For real? Are you certain?”
“Absolutely,” Alice replied, rubbing her nose against his shoulder. “Do you think our savings are enough for a deposit on a home?”
“Just so?”
Alice nodded, then fixed Matthew with a serious look. “Were grown up nowabout to be Mum and Dad. Time to think of our own house. But”
“But what?”
“Im not leaving Dick! Every home needs at least one fellow who understands what the Pickwick Club means, and wholl help me keep my stresses in check.”
“Think youll have many?”
“Lets ring Martha and ask. Shell have the numbers!”
Matthew sighed, and for the first time, Alice, instead of bursting into tears, burst into such bright laughter that even Dickens, drowsing in his corner, barked in surprise, and sat up to listen to this delightful new sound.
