Divorcing at the age of sixty-eight was neither a romantic gesture nor a midlife crisis. It was an admission of defeatthat after forty years of marriage to a woman with whom I shared not just a home, but also the silences, the empty stares across the dinner table, and all the words left unspoken, I had finally accepted I was not who I ought to be. My name is Edward, I hail from Canterbury, and my tale began with loneliness and ended with an unexpected revelation.
With Margaret, I spent nearly my entire life. We married at twenty, in the England of the seventies. In the beginning, there was love: kisses on the park bench, long talks at dusk, shared dreams. And then, it all faded. First came the children, then the mortgages, the work, the exhaustion, the routine Our conversations dwindled to brief exchanges in the kitchen: «Did you pay the gas bill?» «Wheres the receipt?» «Were out of salt.»
In the mornings, Id look at her and no longer see my wifejust a weary neighbour. And likely, I was the same to her. We werent living together anymore; we were merely living side by side. Stubborn and proud, I one day told myself, «You deserve something more. Another chance. To breathe fresh air, at long last.» And so, I asked for a divorce.
Margaret didnt resist. She simply sat in her chair, gazed out the window, and said, «Fine. Do as you please. Im done fighting.»
I left. At first, I felt free, as if a weight had been lifted. I slept on the other side of the bed, adopted a tabby cat, sipped my tea on the balcony in the mornings. But then came another feelingemptiness. The house grew too quiet. Meals lost their flavour. Life became monotonous.
Then I had what seemed a brilliant idea: find a woman to help. Someone like Margaret in the old daysto wash, cook, clean, share a word or two. Perhaps a bit younger, in her fifties, experienced, kind. Maybe a widow. My demands werent unreasonable. I even thought, «Im not a bad catch: I take care of myself, own my flat, and Im retired. Why not?»
I began my search. I spoke to neighbours, hinted to acquaintances. Then I mustered the courage to place an advert in the local paper. Short and to the point: «Gentleman, 68, seeks lady for companionship and domestic assistance. Good terms, lodging and board included.»
That advertisement changed my life. Because three days later, I received a letter. Just one. But it was enough to make my hands tremble.
«Dear Edward,
Do you truly believe a woman in the 2020s exists solely to wash socks and fry sausages? We do not live in the nineteenth century.
You are not seeking a companiona person with a soul and desiresbut an unpaid housemaid with a romantic veneer.
Perhaps you ought to learn first how to tend to yourself, cook your own meals, and keep your house in order.
Sincerely,
A woman who isnt looking for a gentleman with a tea towel in hand.»
I read it again and again. At first, I seethed with anger. How dare she? Who did she think she was? I wasnt trying to take advantageI only wanted warmth, a welcoming home, a womans touch
But then I wondered: What if she was right? Was I, without realising it, seeking someone to make life comfortable for me rather than learning to build it myself?
I started with the basics. I learned to make soup. Then, shepherds pie. I subscribed to a cooking channel, shopped with a list, ironed my own shirts. I felt clumsy, even foolish, but in time, it ceased to be a chore. It was my life. My choice.
I even framed that letter and hung it in the kitchen. A reminder: dont ask others to rescue you if you wont first climb out of the pit yourself.
Three months have passed. I still live alone, but now my flat smells of stew. Geraniums I planted bloom on the balcony. On Sundays, I bake apple tartMargarets recipe. Sometimes I think, «I could bring her a slice.» Perhaps for the first time in forty years, Ive understood what it means not just to be a husband, but a person beside someone.
Now, if asked whether Id marry again, Id say no. But if ever a woman were to sit beside me on that park benchone who seeks not a master, but simply conversationId surely speak to her. Only now, Id do so as a different man.
