In truth, I never meant to marry. Had it not been for the relentless courtship of my future husband, I might still have been as free as a bird. Arthur fluttered about me like a lovesick moth, never letting me out of his sight, bending over backward to please me, treating me as though I were made of glass… In short, I surrendered. We wed.
Arthur became family almost at oncefamiliar, warm, and comfortable, like a pair of well-worn slippers.
A year passed, and our son, Edward, was born. Arthur worked in another town, returning home only once a week. He always brought little treats for Edward and me. One evening, as I prepared to wash his clothes, I checked his pockets, as was my habit. Once, Id accidentally laundered his driving licence… Since then, Id always been thorough. This time, a folded slip of paper fell from his trousers. I unfolded it and reada long list of school supplies (it was August, after all). At the bottom, in a childs handwriting: *”Daddy, come home soon.”*
Ah! So this was how my husband amused himself while away! A bigamist!
I didnt make a scene. I tucked my bag under my arm, took Edwardnot yet threeby the hand, and went to stay with my mother. For a long while. She gave us a little room: *”Stay here until youve sorted things out.”*
The thought of revenge crossed my mind. I remembered an old classmate, Roger. *Him* Id have a fling with! Roger had pursued me relentlessly in school and after. So I called.
*”Hello, Roger! Still unmarried?”* I began lightly.
*”Nadine? Hello! Married, divorcedwhats the difference? Fancy meeting up?”* Roger perked up.
My unplanned affair lasted six months. Arthur brought alimony for Edward every month, handing it to my mother in silence before leaving.
I knew he was living with Catherine Evans. She had a daughter from a previous marriage and insisted the girl call Arthur “Daddy.” They lived in his flat. The moment Catherine learned Id left, she and her daughter moved in from another town. She adored Arthurknitted him woolly socks, cooked hearty meals. I learned all this later. For years, Id throw Catherine in his face. At the time, though, I believed our marriage had run its course, collapsed under its own weight…
Yet, over coffee one day (discussing the divorce), pleasant memories washed over us. Arthur confessed his undying love, repented. Said he didnt know how to rid himself of Catherine.
My heart ached for him. We reconciled. For the record, he never knew about Roger. Catherine and her daughter left town for good.
Seven happy years passed. Then Arthur was in an accident. Surgeries, rehabilitation, a walking stick. Two years of recovery drained him. He took to drink heavily, lost himself. Pleading fell on deaf ears. He refused help, wore us all down.
Meanwhile, at work, I found a shoulder to cry onPaul. He listened in the break room, walked me home, comforted me. Paul was married, his wife expecting their second child. To this day, I dont know how we ended up in bed. Absurd! He was a head shorter, slightnot my type at all!
But off we wentexhibitions, concerts, the ballet. When his daughter was born, Paul paused his gallivanting, quit our firm, and found another job. Out of sight, out of mind? I made no claims on him. Hed merely dulled my heartache. Id no intention of wrecking his home.
Arthur kept drinking.
Five years later, Paul and I crossed paths again. He seriously proposed. I laughed.
Arthur briefly pulled himself together, went to work in Belgium. I played the dutiful wife and mother, my thoughts only for my family. He returned after six months. We renovated the flat, bought new appliances. Arthur finally fixed his car. Life seemed sweetuntil he relapsed. Hell began anew. His mates carried him homehe couldnt walk. Id scour the neighbourhood, finding him sprawled on benches, pockets turned inside out, and drag him back.
Then, one spring day, I stood glumly at the bus stop. Birds chirped, sunshine bathed everything in goldyet I felt nothing. A whisper at my ear: *”Perhaps I can ease your troubles?”*
I turned. Good Lord! A handsome, fragrant stranger! And me at 45! Could I really turn heads again? Flustered, I boarded the bus just in time. He waved as it pulled away. All day, my thoughts were of him. I played hard to get for a fortnightfor proprietys sake.
But Henry (as he was called) was relentless. Every morning, he waited at that stop. Soon, I hurried not to be late, stealing glances to see if he was there. Spotting me, hed blow kisses.
Once, he brought a bouquet of red tulips. *”What am I to do with these at work?”* I protested. *”The girls will tease me mercilessly!”*
Henry grinned. *”Didnt think of that.”* He handed them to an elderly lady watching us. She beamed. *”Thank you, dear! May you find a passionate love!”* I blushed. At least she hadnt wished him a *young* loverId have died of shame!
Henry turned to me. *”Nadine, lets be guilty together. You wont regret it.”*
Frankly, the offer was tempting. With Arthur lost to drink, our marriage was hollow.
Henry was teetotal, a former athlete (57 but fit), and a marvelous talker. Divorced. He had a magnetic charm.
I plunged into the affaira whirlpool of passion. For three years, I vacillated between home and Henry, my soul in turmoil. Stopping seemed impossible. Yet when I finally *wanted* to end it, I still couldnt. Like the saying goes: *The lass chases the lad, yet he wont leave.* Henry owned mebody and soul. When he stood near, my breath caught! Madness! Yet I sensed this path led nowhere. It wasnt love.
Returning home spent from Henrys arms, Id yearn to cling to Arthurdrunk, reeking, but *mine*. *Better dry bread at home than roast meat abroad.* This, I thought, was truth. Passion? More like *passion*from the Latin for suffering. I longed to suffer no more, to return to my family. But my body still craved the abyss.
Edward knew of Henry. Hed spotted us at a restaurant with his girlfriend. I introduced them. That evening, over supper, Edward eyed me expectantly. I joked it off*just a colleague discussing work.* *”At a restaurant?”* He nodded knowingly. He didnt judge, only begged me not to divorce Arthur. *”Give him time,”* he said.
I felt like a lost sheep. A divorced friend urged me to *”dump these sorry lovers and settle down.”* I heeded hershe was on her third husband. But logic didnt stop me. Only when Henry raised his hand did I break free.
That was the end. My friend had warned: *”Calm seas deceive from shore.”* The scales fell from my eyes. Three years of tormentover! Free at last!
Henry pursued me relentlessly afterwardwaiting, pleading, begging on his knees. I stood firm. My friend kissed me and gifted a mug: *”You Did Right.”*
As for Arthur? He knew everything. Henry had called, boasting Id leave. Arthur later confessed: *”Hearing his gloating, I wished to die. I drove you awaychose drink over you.”*
Ten years have passed. We have two granddaughters now. One afternoon, over coffee, Arthur took my hand. *”Nadine, dont look away. Im your happiness. Believe me?”*
*”Of course, my love.”*
