WHAT GOES AROUND, COMES AROUND
Helen sat by her bay window, leafing distractedly through her favourite newspaper. Today, her eyes drifted across the headlines, unable to settle. Her thoughts wandered relentlessly, circling one raw, aching memory.
The Looking for You columnHelen usually skipped over it without a second glance. For years, she had no need of such things; her life had always seemed settled, secure. But now, tonight, Helens gaze lingered on those small-print pages, brimming with phone numbers and lonely hearts desperate for love. Some searched for a lifetime, others for a night, others perhaps just an hour
Yet it wasnt romance Helen craved. All she wanted was a friendly ear, a stranger at the distant end of a phone line to listen. Just someone to hear her out. On this particular evening, there was no friend to turn to, and the need to unburden her soul clawed at her insides. With trembling fingers, Helen dialled the first number she saw.
Good evening! Youve reached the Matchmaking Service, came a confident womans voice.
H-hello, miss, Helen stammered, her voice wavering. She didnt know what else to say.
Dont worry. I can help. Lets get your details down and go through your preferences, replied the velvet voice, already sounding irritable at Helens hesitation.
Im sorry… would you mind terribly if I just talked for a moment? Helen steadied herself.
So youre not actually looking for anyone? I havent got time to listen to everyones confessions, love. Try the helplinethere are professionals for that, the woman replied briskly, rattled off a number, and hung up before Helen could protest.
Helen barely managed to scribble the number down. That helpline felt like her last lifeline. She dialled carefully, afraid to make a mistake.
Hello? Good evening. Could I, perhaps, just talk? I really need to, Helen found her courage.
Of course you can, answered a calm, gentle voice on the other end. Tell me your story.
And so Helen beganhaphazardly at first, nerves and shame tangling her words, then finding a steadier rhythm as she went on.
It is always easier to confess to a stranger. Helen poured herself out, holding nothing back. Perhaps she was trying to explain something to herself, to justify, maybe even to excuse. She wasnt looking for advice. Just to be heard.
And so, Helen began to tell her tale of regret.
My husband left me, she murmured. A year ago, we celebrated our silver anniversary. I truly thought there wasnt a happier woman alive.
Back at university, Helen and Roger had been enrolled at the same college of education. Roger had already been married to Carol, a quiet, kind woman, and they were raising two young childrensiblings only a year apart. Carol adored Roger, giving him a child every year, doting on him and the children alike, radiating warmth and good-hearted devotioneverything a vicars wife would be proud of.
I envied her then, Helen admitted to herself. Roger, a lively, ambitious fellow, paired with someone so mousy and plain! Whereas I was clever, prettysurely a better match for him?
I destroyed that perfect marriage without a thought. No warning or advicedont covet your neighbours husband, you cant build happiness on another womans pain, think of the childrenpersuaded me. I was in love, and that was all that mattered.
Now, years later, I see it for what it was. I was a snake in the grass, a sly seducer.
Roger and I built our happiness on the rubble of his old family. His ex-wife Carol drank the bitter cup quietly; she didnt beg, didnt wage war, just softly asked him, Dont forget our children. Carol left the rest of her life to her kids, then grandchildren. She never remarried; no other could compare, and she never sought one out.
Roger and I soon had a son, Theo. We brought him up in comfort. Theo never wanted for anythingyearly seaside holidays, a spacious flat in Kensington, a family car, a garden plot in the South Downs. Roger and I taught at the college, both of us heads of our faculties. Roger never forgot his older children, either; we helped as we could, often having them over for the school holidays.
Some years, wed spend summer on the coasta party of my son and Rogers two. For a moment, I almost believed they loved me more than their own mother. Carol, working day and night as a nurse, couldnt give luxuries; sometimes I mocked, Why not ask your mum to take you to the sea, just once? I knew full well Carol was only scraping by. I wanted to twist the knife.
Yet Carol never asked for helpnot out of pride, but because she wouldnt intrude on our lives. Im sure Roger supported her in secret.
Theo grew up, married, and moved out to start his own family.
Roger and I were left alone in our wide, central London flat. Life sailed calmly on. I felt at peace. No hint of troubleuntil it knocked at our door.
Gossip travels fast, even to the most oblivious. One day, a retired colleague cornered me with a nudge, Helen, did you know Rogers spending an awful lot of time alone with that pretty young student whos always struggling with her coursework?
I laughed. The dean and some failing student? Ridiculous!
But, after our silver anniversary dinner at a Mayfair restaurant last year, Roger stunned me.
Im sorry, Helen. Im leaving. Ive met someone else. Id like a divorce.
A textbook tale: an ageing wife; a husband in his prime; a young mistress. I lost my composure. I screamed, wept. Youre leaving me for that hopeless nobody? Think, Roger! Youre under a spellitll pass! Ill see her kicked out of college. The children will never forgive you! I flung ugly words.
It changed nothing. He left, utterly and finally, for his nobody.
The world drained of colour. But that was only the start.
Roger and his new love moved into a flat in the next buildinghelped, insultingly, by our mutual friends. We must give the young couple a chance, support them getting started, they said. It was cruel. Every cold morning at the bus stop, I watched them pass in our own car. The girl looked at me as if I was yesterdays news, a relic. Exactly how Id looked at Carol. Now, only ashes of love left behind.
And Roger? His eyes sparkled with joy and a hunger for life. At fifty, he floated inches above the pavementsalt and pepper hair, but heart full of wild youth again. They say, Theres no fool like an old fool, and its truelove obeys no law, no clock.
Id once asked Roger, Why was it so easy for me to win you from your wife, when Carol was always so loyal? Hed answered, Helen, I simply couldnt bear the peaceful boredom anymore, kissing my hand.
It seems boredom struck again. He chased fresh passion, just as before. Today, hed vow eternal lovetomorrow, its anyones guess. Its clear his fate is to leave old wives for new temptresses. Now Ive been bothtemptress and abandoned.
I looked for comfort in Rogers children, but found only coldness. His son and daughter, now married, told me in unison, What goes around, comes around. They stood by their father. To them, I wasand always would besome interloping woman whod stolen their mothers husband. Nothing Id done could change their minds; for them, only mum and dad truly matteredparents were an unbreakable unit.
Theyd never loved me. Not ever. We, the adults, thought to buy off their pain with holidays, trinkets, pretty talk. But children grew up, saw the truth. I havent spoken to them for a year; in truth, theyve cut me off.
Roger and I divorced quietly, no performance. He told me his new partnerAlisonwas expecting. It made sense, he said, to split the flat for the sake of a growing family. I agreed. What was the point in fighting? You cant bring back yesterdays dawn by wishing at sunrise.
A new family needs help
So, here I am, talking to you tonight, in this empty four-bedroom flat. Im forty-four. Soon to be, as they say, in my second bloom. I take care of myself without fail; now, autumn has arrived in my life. My husband always bought me fine perfume, top-of-the-line make-up, elegant clothesa real high-maintenance lady. Yet I feel only an endless ache. Emptiness. My one solace is my son. Only Theo comforts me. For the record, he and Rogers other children were never friends. They never took to each other.
Would you mind if I called again sometime? Listeners like you are rare. You never once interruptedthank you for that!
After the call, Helen put down the still-warm handset and forced a smile.
She dialled Theo. He sounded surprised at the late hour.
Mum? Is everything alright? Theo asked uneasily.
Since the divorce, hed grown used to his mothers tearful calls, her withdrawal from friends, her sorrow.
Alls well, love! My heart feels lighter than it has in ages. Life must go on. Do come round at the weekend with the little onesI’ll bake a cake, Helen said fondly, blowing a kiss down the line.
Six months later, Helen called the helpline once again.
Youll never guessIve met my old classmate. Hes been just next door for years, never daring to approach while I was married. Hed never wed. The moment he heard things had changed, he decided to reach out. Weve married now.
Happiness returned to my little home, even if its just a tiny bedsit. Thank youfor hearing my confession; for helping me clear my soul. Now I know for certainlife always finds a way to offer something in returnOn the other end, a gentle laugh soundeda familiar reassurance.
“You see, Helen,” the helpline voice replied, “nothing is ever finished before it really ends. If you hadn’t reached out, perhaps happiness would have passed right by your window, quietly, unnoticed.”
Helen relaxed against her chair, letting that truth seep in. The ache dulled. For the first time in years, the flat didnt echo quite so emptily.
Outside, London glimmered in the duska thousand lives blinking in neighboring windows. Helen realized hers was just one, threaded with sorrow and hope, mistakes and second chances, just like any other.
She stood, closing the curtains. Down below, the street hummed with promise and possibility. Helen carried the phone to the table, set out two cups, and brewed tea for herself and the future shed found waitingunexpected, patient, forgiving.
What goes around, comes around. And sometimes, on the return, it brings the gift of beginning again.
