**The Return**
I climbed the narrow stairs into the courtyard. The basement of the flat had been converted into a repair shop for office equipment, where Id been working for the past two months. The sky was smothered in grey, but no rain fell. For October, the weather was unusually mild. It was already growing dark, though it was only five in the evening.
I didnt own a car and only took the bus in foul weather. I shrugged and stepped out of the yard. Once, Id worked in IT and earned decent money. Id had a family. But after a string of absurd and tragic events, I lost them, started drinking, and lost my job too An old uni mate took pity and gave me work in his shop fixing computers.
I drank, showed up late, sometimes didnt turn up at all. Today, Simon said that even though I was a naturalsober or not, my work was better than anyone elseshis patience wasnt endless. If I kept this up, hed have to sack me. I knew I was sliding toward the abyss, hitting rock bottom. And it terrified me. If Simon threw me out, where would I go?
Darkness fell quickly, street lamps flickering to life. My body screamed for a drink, my jaw clenching with the craving. As I passed cafés, shops, and pubs, I forced myself not to look at the glowing windows. I hunched my shoulders and hurried past. Id hold out. I could do it. Id promised Simon Id stop.
I didnt think of myself as an alcoholic, but without a drink, I couldnt last more than two days. Nights were the worst. Without alcohol, sleep was impossible.
There was the little off-licence I often stopped at on my way home. Better to nip in for a quick shot than buy a whole bottle at the shop. But I knew myselfonce I started, I wouldnt stop. Id run into someone, stay until I was legless, then wake with a pounding head, crippling guilt. After a moments hesitation, I walked on.
Id done it. I could manage. I felt almost heroic. Until the next pub.
My building came into view. Just one more shop to pass. I paused outside its bright window. Shelves of bottles glinted at the back, calling to me like a lighthouse to a ship lost in fog.
My feet carried me toward the door. Halfway there, I veered away, shoving my hands into my coat pockets. I clenched my fists and forced myself past.
*You can still turn back*, a desperate voice whispered. I broke into a run, breath ragged. Only when the stairwell door clicked shut behind me did I stop to breathe.
I rarely came home sober, so when I stepped into my bachelor den, the mess horrified me.
The fridge was nearly empty: a tin of sardines, a quarter-loaf of stale bread, a hardened lump of cheddar. I shouldve bought pasta and eggs, but then Id have bought a bottle too. Fine. I wouldnt starve.
To distract myself until the shops closed, I tidied. I stuffed laundry into the machine, washed dishes, wiped the crumb-strewn table, then mopped the floor. It looked better, but the scent of detergent couldnt mask the stale stench of booze and smoke.
I checked the clock. I had time for ten more trips to the shopI wouldnt even need to dress properly. Then Simons stern face flashed in my mind. I went to the window.
The building opposite glowed with yellow squares of lit windows. I imagined a family gathered around a kitchen table a couple on the sofa watching telly, their son pretending to study while listening to music, just as I had as a boy
A wave of loneliness hit me so hard I nearly howled.
The washing machine beeped. I hung the laundry, drank tea with the dried-out cheese, and checked the clock againten minutes until closing. I could still make it Instead, I dialled my ex-wifes number.
«Oliver, I told you not to call in the evenings.»
«Nice to hear your voice too. Let me talk to Emily,» I said.
«Are you drunk? Shes been asleep for ages.»
«Im sober.»
A sigh. «Sleep it off first. Dont call again. And leave Emily alone. Shes just starting to warm to David»
I wanted to say David wasnt her father, that she was *my* daughter, that I missed herbut the line went dead.
Strange that Laura hadnt blocked my number. It gave me a fragile hope. Womens «no» often meant «maybe.»
I made up the sofa with clean sheets and lay down, knowing sleep wouldnt come. I ached for a drink, but there was nothing
***
Id met Laura at uni. She was a year below me. Once, in the canteen, shed asked to cut in line. I didnt mind. She saved me a seat, watching me with interest. Back then, I was top of my class, the lecturers golden boy.
We started dating. I helped with her essays, even wrote her dissertation.
«Whyd you pick this course? Shouldve chosen something more feminine. How will you work in this field?» I often asked.
«Youll work. Ill raise the baby,» shed laughed.
Thats how I found out she was pregnant. She was a good cook, domestic. I didnt mind marrying. Emily arrived right on time.
When she started nursery, Laura got a job as a PA at a construction firm, where her computer skills came in handy. She dressed smarter, wore makeup. Sometimes Id see a car drop her off.
«I want a car,» she announced once.
Id wanted one too, but after buying the flat, I was buried in debt. While I was still paying it off, Mum died. We rented out her flat, and Laura took out a loan for a car. I lost it.
«Oliver, Im tired. I cant live like this anymore,» she shouted.
«Is there someone else?» I asked bluntly.
«Yes. Im sorry, but I have to think of Emily»
What, and I wasnt? I slammed the door and left. Thank God Mums flat was empty. Good thing I hadnt let Laura talk me into selling it.
Alone, I drank to numb the pain. I tormented myself imagining another man in my placedrinking from my mug, sleeping in my bed Had she ever loved me, or just used me? The drink swallowed me whole. I lost my job
***
I mustve slept. I dreamed I was lost in fog, searching for someone, unable to call out. Then a voice: «James!» But Laura only ever called me by my surname. I woke, heart pounding.
It took me a moment to remember where I was. I didnt sleep again, just sat in the kitchen smokingone perk of bachelor life. Laura wouldve banished me to the landing.
Simon raised an eyebrow when I showed up early at work, sniffing the air.
«I didnt drink,» I said. «Can I take a long lunch?»
«Thirsty already?» he grumbled.
«I want to see my daughter. Before she forgets me completely.»
«Fine. But youll make up the time.»
I waited on a bench by the school gates, well positioned to spot Emily. I didnt dare go closerdidnt want to run into David. He always looked at me like I was something stuck to his shoe.
No sign of his car today. Kids streamed out, but no Emily. Had she fallen ill? Then I spotted her pink coat. I jumped up, wavingjust as a black SUV pulled up, blocking her from view.
Something felt wrong. Why had it stopped?
I sprinted around the car. The back door was open. A flash of pinkor was I imagining it? A hooded figure slammed the doorI threw out my hand. The door crushed my fingers.
Pain shot up my arm, darkness crowding my vision.
«Dad!» Emily shoved the door open, tumbling onto me. The car screeched away, clipping my thigh.
I sat on the wet pavement, my hand throbbing, heavy as concrete.
«In broad daylight!»
«Call the police!»
«Some bloke tried to take herhe stopped it!»
«Daddy!» Emily sobbed into my ear.
Voices reached me as if through cotton wool.
An ambulance took us to hospital. Emily mustve called Laura, because when I came out, they both rushed to me.
«Dad!» Emily clung to me.
«Did you break anything?» Laura asked.
«X-rays clear,» I said.
«Thank you. If you hadnt been there» Lauras voice cracked.
«I told Mum everything,» Emily said.
«David was supposed to pick her up. If Id known» Laura wiped her eyes.
«Nothing happened,» I said, hugging her with my good arm. She pulled away.
«Well drive you home,» she said.
In the back seat, Emily eyed my bandaged hand. «Does it hurt?»
«Not much.»
«How will you work?» Laura asked, meeting my gaze in the mirror. Id have cut the hand off to keep her looking at me like thatnot coldly, as before.
At my door, I offered to collect Emily from school while I recovered.
«Well manage,» Laura said, driving off.
But that evening, she called. «Does it still hurt?»
«You cant cook. Ill bring soup tomorrow.»
Pity was the last thing I wanted. «Dont worry. Ill cope.»
«I was thinking if its no trouble, meet Emily at twelve tomorrow.»
*What about David?* I bit back the question.
Next morning, I didnt call SimonI went in. He took one look at my swollen fingers and sent me home.
I waited openly by the school gates.
«Mum and Uncle David had a huge row yesterday,» Emily chattered on the walk home. «Dad, are you coming back?»
«What about Uncle David?»
«Mum kicked him out. He wasnt at a meetinghe was with his mistress. I heard. Mums not home yet, come on.» She tugged me inside.
It was the first time Id stepped into the flat since the split. Nothing had changed muchjust small things. A new kettle.
«The old one broke. Mum bought this one. Im glad Uncle Davids gone,» Emily said.
It felt strange, sitting in my old spot, like a guest.
Later, I helped with her homework. Only when the front door clicked did I realise how late it was.
Laura didnt seem surprised to see me.
«Dinner soon,» she said, vanishing into the kitchen.
We ate together, just like before. It felt like Id returned from some distant place.
«Finished your homework?» Laura asked Emily.
«Yes. Dad helped.»
«I should go,» I said, standing. «Dinner was lovely.»
Laura stood too. We hovered, avoiding each others eyes.
«Its late. Ill make up the sofa.»
I lay rigid, terrified of waking herbut she lay just as still.
In the morning, I found them ready to leave.
«Why are you up? Youre not working,» Laura said. «Emily finishes at one. Meet her.»
I wandered the flat, ate the sandwiches shed left, washed up wincing.
Yesterday, Id seen Davids toothbrush in the bathroom. Today, only two remained: Emilys pink one, Lauras green. Had she thrown the third awaylike mine, when I left?
I wanted to stay. What if she told me to go? Should I leave first? What if she didnt? *If, if, if.* If she let me stay, Id crawl over broken glass to prove myself. I was good at my job.
In my jeans, I found a fiver. I bought a small bouquet of pale pink roses.
Laura noticed but said nothing. She didnt tell me to leavethat was something. I still slept on the sofa. But that evening, over dinner, she started talking about work, like old times.
«Does the secretary still fancy the boss?» I ventured.
«No, she quit. The new girl and I get on.»
How good it felt, the three of us at the table. I realised I hadnt thought of drink once since coming back.
Maybe things could mend. I wasnt drinking. She wasnt pushing me out. Id do anything to earn her trust again. The days slipped into a quiet rhythm. I met Emily from school, helped with her homework, fixed the toaster that had been broken for months. Laura began leaving my shirts in the laundry, folding them neat beside hers. One evening, she placed a second toothbrush on the sinkblue, not green. I didnt mention it. Neither did she. Outside, winter tightened its grip, but inside, something fragile and warm had begun to glow. I still woke some nights, heart racing, dreaming of bottles in shadowed corners. But now, when I sat up, Lauras voice would come from the dark: You okay? And Id say, Yeah. Just thirsty. Id get water, not wine. And for the first time in years, I believed it.
