Pain drifts away the moment love does, and the one who was your nearest becomes a stranger. James got wrapped up with another woman, and I was knocked flat; I was miserable for days. We’d shared thirty years together, built a life, thought we were fused like conjoined twinsspiritually and physically. Then, as if one twin snipped himself off with a tiny knife, he grabbed a piece of the other and walked off wherever he fancied. The remaining twin was left bruised and feeble. That’s exactly how I felt.
I begged, I tore him apart with questions, I dug up proof. Finally I cornered him against the hallway wall. He confessed, a sigh of relief slipping out. All that exhausting lying and tiptoe walking vanished. The ball was in my court now either part ways or keep on living like this. I kept poking around, and eventually I found what I needed.
James wasnt keen on leaving. Wed just finished the house refurbishment, had the savings, the grandchildren, the kids Starting over at fiftyfive felt daft. But if I kept insisting, hed have to go.
I clutched my head, proved the truth, and things only got messier. Now it was either a split or a life of humiliation. No more lies. As they say, Off to the other woman, dont expect dinner at home! I didnt want a divorce. I still loved him, had always been faithful.
A wise old chap gave me a piece of advice that works for the stronghearted: ignore the drama, shore up the friendship, sort the everyday bits together just like before, and live your own life. Keep working, meet the mates, pop down to a seaside resort now and then, go dancing like we used to, and just be good neighbours.
Back in the day we lived in council flats, sharing corridors with neighbours in neighbouring rooms. Sometimes we got warm, friendly chats, but you dont ask the neighbours where theyre off to or who theyre seeing. Live like that and the sting of shame drops down a notch especially if you cant separate.
I took the advice. Nothing else was left to do. I chatted normally with James, didnt pry, set up the bedroom in the study just the way he liked. We had breakfast together, sorted the bills, even went to the theatre and visited friends. It was calm and decent.
I lay awake at night, worrying what if he left? What if a baby arrived somewhere else? I couldnt change any of that, so I kept my head down, stayed friendly, asked nothing.
Half a year slipped by, each day agony for me, but I couldnt even picture a split. I forced myself to act like a sister, a confidante, hoping the trick would stick, though I knew there were no guarantees.
James started staying home more evenings, then stopped going out altogether. He even strutted about the flat in his boxers, gave me a kiss before leaving, and one night tried to hug me like before.
I pulled away.
It felt like a neighbour trying to embrace you after a friendly chat its still a stranger, even if you know them well. Something felt off, a foreign scent, a glimpse of his unshaved cheek, his ear. I slipped free, in every sense, freeing myself from love.
In front of me stood an older, familiar bloke a goodnatured relative, no longer a lover. Just memories of past feelings and the pain of an old wound, like after surgery. The split happened. James stayed. His interest bounced back. The trick worked!
Now he doesnt spark any feelings. Hes become a neighbour, a relative, an old mate. Nothing spectacular, just a decent fellow some are worse. I can live with that, chat with him, but nothing more.
So thats how we go on two neighbours, old friends. James still puts on a bit of a show, spreads his arms romantically, but it irks me. I dodge, shake my head with a sigh, steer the talk elsewhere. Im not happy, not out of vengeance, just missing that closeness. Its turned into friendship.
From the outside everything looks perfect. People comment on how happy the family seems. Its hard to bottle up the emotions, to shove love and jealousy into a sack and tie it tight but eventually the living thing in the sack dies. All thats left are relations sometimes truly good, a reminder of what that other person meant and how close we once were.
