The man comes home and, without even taking off his coat, exclaims: We really need to talk seriously.
He steps through the door, shoes very much still on, coat buttoned up, and calls out at once:
Emily! We need to have a serious talk
He barely pauses for breath, his eyes wide with urgency:
Im in love!
Well, thats it, Emily thinks to herself, our family has started its mid-life crisis. Welcome, welcome She says nothing, but studies her husbands face closely, something she hasnt truly done in five, maybe six (or has it already been eight?) years.
They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die, but what flashes through Emilys mind is their life together. Theyd met, unremarkably, on the internet. Emily had shaved a few years off her age online, and her future husband had generously added three centimetres to his heightsomehow they still managed to fall within each other’s standards andfind each other. Emily cant recall who wrote first, but she remembers his message wasnt crude, carried a gentle humour, and that immediately charmed her. At thirty-three, and as average as they come, she knew her chances in the marriage market; if she wasnt right at the end of the queue, she was certainly close, so she resolved to wear her best earrings, look through rose-tinted glasses, put on her lacy underwear, and slip some homemade shortbread and a book into her bag for her first date.
That first date went unexpectedly welloh, the things a good impression can do! Their romance bloomed quickly. They simply liked being together, and after six months of regular datesand parents despairing they’d ever see grandchildrenhe worked up the nerve to propose. They introduced their families, the suggestion to have a small, quiet wedding was unanimously approved, and, not wanting to risk anyone changing their mind, they picked the first available date at the registry office.
In Emilys view, they lived well. Their home life was a pleasant, mild affairno wild storms of passion, but plenty of kindness and respect. And what else is happiness? Her husband, a typical Englishman, dropped the charming-romantic-about-the-house persona within weeks of marriage, revealing himself to her as he really was: a straightforward, reliable soul who loved nothing better than pulling on his comfiest lounge trousers at home.
Emily, being the more complicated sort, gradually relaxed her own image of the mysterious, quietly sexy, intellectual housewife. Pregnancy only sped up the process. Within a year, she was perfectly happy to ditch the pretence altogether and settle into her favourite dressing gown with a relieved sigh.
The important thing was that, despite both abandoning their best foot forward acts, neither of them ran from the marriage, and neither had any complaints. This convinced Emily she’d made the right choice and strengthened her faith in their partnership.
Of course, the daily routines and raising two children born close together rocked the boat a bit, but there was never a shipwreck. When the storm passed, they were back to gently bobbing along in their own, familiar way. Their parentsgrannies and grandads bothhelped wherever possible. At work, both gradually climbed the ladder, not quickly but steadily. They still made time to travel, enjoy their hobbies, and, of course, each otherall within the sensible bounds of the average British statistic.
Theyd been married twelve years, and he had remained impeccably faithfulnever even flirted with anyone, which is saying something, as Emily wasnt especially jealous, and he could probably have managed it without drama. She pictures him attempting to flirt and cant stop herself from smilingthe image in her mind is so silly. Early in their relationship, realising he just wasnt cut out for traditional compliments, her husband started only offering them in silence (or through some ultrasonic frequency only he could hear), widening his eyes as if he were a startled heron.
After many years together, Emily had learnt to read that staresurprise, delight, mild approval, even horrorjust from the shape of his eyes. Now she imagines him dishing out compliments to some strange rat, his eyes going wider and wider
She feels her throat go dry, laughs nervously, and says:
So, whats this rat of yours called then?
Now his eyes practically leap off his forehead, and, rummaging about with nervous hands, he stammers:
What? How how did you know Im in love with a rat?! Honestlyastounding! I just couldnt help myself, the first time I saw her just look, shes wonderful, soft, beautiful reminds me so much of you
From inside his jumper, he carefully produces a tiny, grey rat with delicate, pink, translucent ears, a twitching pink nose, and shiny black eyes like beads.
But Emily barely registers his words now. She gazes at her husband, at his new friend, at both their faces together, and feels an overwhelming joy that he is in love with just this little rat so very like herself.
