The day hadnt gone well.
Tom knew these things happened, but stillit all felt tiresome. He found himself brooding over his life. What had he achieved? Nearing forty, hed finished school, done his time in trade college, and served in the military. He had a flat, a wife, two kids, and an old banger of a car that took him to a ridiculous patch of land they called a gardenwhere he spent weekends digging, weeding, hauling soil, trimming hedges, or fixing the rotten fence and sagging roof.
The tram rattled like a tin can as it swayed along the tracks. Tom sat by the window, watching the streetlights flicker to life in the gathering dark, their glow stretching like a chain into the night. His mind wandered.
His life was ordinaryfamily, job, the garden, paydays, the kids, his parents, the in-laws. Football on weekends, a pint after a sweat in the gardens makeshift sauna. Birthdays and holidays spent with family. All perfectly normal.
Yet, suddenly, it all felt stale. Too quiet. Too safe. He wanted something moreexcitement, novelty. He realised hed always been the dependable one. The one who never strayed from the path laid out for him.
What if he could start over?
The thought brought back memories of Lucy, his first love. Holding hands, dreaming aloud, that first dizzying kiss. A lump rose in his throat, and he wiped his eyes.
Things couldve been so different.
Lucybright, cheeky, always laughing. Hed been heartbroken when they parted. Then came Emma. Steady, reliable Emma. No nonsense with herno stolen flowers from the town hall garden («Honestly, Tom, you couldve been fined!»). Straight-laced from the start.
After the wedding, shed called his parents «Mum and Dad» straight away. Settled into domestic life effortlessly. His parents adored hersensible, kind, the perfect homemaker.
But was this what hed wanted?
The tram lurched to a halt. The doors screeched open. A tide of weary commuters flowed out, another pressed in. Tom stood, shuffling toward the backthree stops to go. He hadnt taken the tram in years. His old car wasnt much, but it was his.
Then, a voicebright, familiar.
«Tommy, for heavens sake, stand still.»
He turned, scanning the crowd. Tired faces, lost in thought or staring blankly ahead.
A woman gripped a boys handten, restless, buzzing to tell her something.
«Mum, guess what? Vicky at school»
«Tom, I said *stand still*.»
«But I want to tell you *now*!»
«Later.»
«At home, youll cook, then Annie will bang on about her boyfriends, then Samll drone on about uni, then you and Dadll talk about the stupid gardenwhat about *me*? Whyd they have to name me Tom? Tom the sparrow, fell off his barrow»
«Oh, dont be silly. Its a lovely name.»
«Lovely? Ha!»
A woman in a red beret tutted. «You ought to listen, dear. One day, he wont *want* to talk to you.»
The mother scoffed, then glanced sharply at Tom. Their eyes metjust for a secondbefore she turned back.
«Fine. Tell me. But *quietly*.»
The boy beamed, launching into his story.
And then it hit him.
*Lucy.*
Thats who she was. His road not taken.
*That* couldve been his boy, ignored. His older kids monopolising her. *His* garden shed complain about.
But would he have been happier?
She hadnt recognised him. Just another stranger on the tram.
Suddenly, the weight lifted. His lifeEmma, the kids, even the gardendidnt seem so dull after all. Fishing with his father-in-law next weekend. Emma *always* listened.
His car breaking down had been a blessing. A quick fix with the lads. Without it, hed still be stewing.
At his stop, he leaned toward the boy and whispered.
The kid gaped, then grinned.
«Whatd he say?» Lucy asked as Tom stepped off.
«That man? Taught me a comeback for the name-callers.»
«Yeah?»
«If Im a sparrow, youre a starlingall squawk, no sense.»
Lucy stiffened. «He always had a sharp tongue.»
«You *know* him?»
«Course not. Dont talk nonsense.»
She sank onto a seat, pulling her son close. The tram emptied. Her husband hadnt picked them upjust like always. Lately, shed been restless, wondering if shed waited for Tom, would life be different?
And now, here he was.
Just some bloke. Balding, a bit paunchy. No magic left.
«Tommy» She forced a smile. «Fancy baking a cake tonight?»
«Chocolate ripple?!»
«Shh! Yes.»
«YES!»
Tom ducked into a florist near homeclosing up, just three white carnations left.
«How much?»
The shopgirl scowled. «Were shut.»
«These?»
«Take em. Theyre wilted anyway.»
«Here, at least»
«Just *go*.»
Emma didnt scold when he handed them over. Just smiled.
«Since when are you romantic?»
«No reason.»
Later, sprawled on the sofa, he caught Lucys voice on the phonesoft, almost shy.
«Mine brought me flowers today. Always was a dreamer, that one. Tom smiled to himself, the warmth of the moment settling deep. The garden could wait. The fence, the car, even the endless choresnone of it mattered right then. He reached for Emmas hand, fingers intertwining, and knew, quietly, completely, that he was exactly where he was meant to be.
