31October
I was standing on the pavement, bags of groceries in my hands, when James shouted across the road, Emma! Emma! I let out a heavy sigh, set the bags down on the curb and stared at his old Ford parked on the opposite side. My cheeks sucked in, and I tucked my chin down. How tired I am of this endless backandforth.
James hurried over, almost tripping, eager to help.
Hey, Emma, he said, grabbing the bags.
Hello, I replied, forcing a small nod.
I was just driving by, saw you struggling with those heavy bags and thought Id lend a hand, he said with a nervous smile. Come on, lets get you home.
Driving by? You live in Stoke Newington, and thats a suburb I muttered.
He turned toward his car, two bags already in his arms.
My mate gave me a lift from work, and then I saw you couldnt just drive past, he shrugged, Ill give you a lift.
Its only about 300yards.
No problem, Ill take the heavy bags. Hows Ben, Mum?
Youll find out this weekend when you call, we talk every day anyway, I said, following James more out of habit than hope. Why do you keep asking about me?
Just curious. Were not strangers, are we? He opened the passenger door for his exwife.
Ill sit in the back.
Theres a mess in there, dont bother.
I opened the rear door, peered insidesure enough, the boot was a jumble of things.
You never believed me
I sighed and slipped into the front seat instead. James stowed the groceries in the boot, beamed at me, and I stared out the window at the familiar streets, turning my face away from him.
You look good as always, he said.
Just get me home, I still have to cook dinner, I snapped.
Right, right! he started the car, Ive just started a new job on an offshore rig, paperwork is all over the place, he blurted, while I kept my gaze fixed on the passing houses. Ben said you moved out of Mums place?
Youve been nothing but a nuisance for three years, I said flatly, Do you think Im happy with these accidental visits? Stop calling my mother, stop begging her to talk to me it wont help! We left her because you were driving us mad. Im on the edge of a nervous breakdown with all the Im sorry, I miss you you keep mouthing.
And Ben? he asked, voice cracking. Hes just getting used to seeing his dad on weekends, you tell him well reconcile, you ask him to pass on greetings, ask when Ill be home, where Im going.
Im worried, he muttered.
I am too about the boy! Stop using him to pressurise me!
I stepped out of the car, slammed the door, and tried to pull the bags from the boot, but the lock jammed. I yanked at it, frantic to be rid of James. My mothers eyes, halfhidden behind the curtains of the upstairs flat, felt like a weight in my back. James finally opened the boot and carried the bags to the stairwell, but I stopped him.
No, Ill do it myself.
Emma, you have to understandI still love you. Id give up the rig, go back to my old job, even buy you a car, he pleaded. Walk all the way home? You could pick Ben up from karate.
I wish youd just leave, I snapped, snatching the bags from his grasp. I want you to find someone you truly love, settle down, and leave me alone.
Forgive me, Emma. It was a oneoff, she meant nothing to me. I still curse myself, he whispered.
I forgave you ages ago. I moved on, but you keep dragging me back.
He shouted something about not being able to live without me as I climbed the stairs.
Dont put on another drama, Emma, I heard him say from the landing. Ive forgiven you, but I cant love you again.
The door on the second floor slammed, and the hallway fell silent. James clenched his fists, walked back to his car, and stared at the windows of my motherinlaws flat. What a fool he was, swapping his family for a fleeting affair. After a year of living alone, he finally realised there was no one better than his former wife, Emma, and his little bear, Ben.
Wed met in secondary school; I transferred into his class and instantly outshone all the other girls. James only had eyes for me. After a summer break, his heart drifted elsewhere. When I returned in September, the spark was gone. We stayed friends, drifted apart for five years while we both studied, then remet through mutual friends as adults. I earned a firstclass degree, landed a job at the factory where my mum worked. James bounced between deadend jobs, never finding his niche.
Everything changed when I told him I was pregnant. He panicked, rushed to meet my parents, we married, Ben was born, we bought a small terraced house with a mortgage that my parents helped pay off early. Summers at the seaside, birthdays, christenings, weekend trips the ordinary bliss of a middleclass English family. My motherinlaw adored her grandson; my own mother respected James as a soninlaw.
Ben grew, I returned to work, James grew restless at his factory job, chased promotions that never materialised, jumped from one temporary gig to another. He eventually got a shortterm contract with a colleague from his first job, which involved compromising favours. That liaison fell apart, leaving James hollow.
I suggested he take a break, perhaps a fishing trip up in Bournemouth, but he balked at leaving us. He eventually went for a couple of days, but the trip never materialised; his friends wife sent him a polite photograph of a quiet evening and asked him not to bother them any more.
When I finally packed Ben and myself and moved in with my mum temporarily, James begged for the photos from his fishing trip. I sent him the pictures, he raced over, only to find the door shut, my mothers glare burning through the blinds. He tried to hold back his anger, but the divorce papers arrived soon after. He dragged his feet, seeking forgiveness at every chance, but the court granted a decree.
A year later, I saw James trying to be a better father paying child support, calling Ben every weekend, even winning back his motherinlaws favour. My own mother urged me to forgive, saying hed changed. I forgave him, let him back into the family, but the trust was gone. Scars lingered, memories barely stirred any feeling.
We finally broke completely.
Emma, why are you still pestering him? Mom asked, stepping over the threshold.
Whos pestering whom? Has Ben not come home from school yet?
None.
Hes driving me mad, Mum! He should be off the rig already, far away! Im terrified of any relationship because I never know what James will do next.
I trudged into the kitchen with the grocery bags, Mom already had tea brewing, the house smelling of fresh biscuits.
Smells wonderful, she said.
Emma, you cant keep treating Ben like this. Youve lived together for years
How could I? How can we share a bed, a flat, when youre a stranger to me? It feels like a message cut off between us.
Then why do you keep giving him hope? Mom asked, unpacking the groceries, eyes avoiding mine.
Its him! He wont let me move on, hes been all over the place the IT guy at work, the flirt, the apologies. He wants me to forgive him, but Im done.
Dont let him in, love, Mom said calmly. Men like him cant handle a woman whos moved on.
Enough! I snapped, Weve been divorced three years; hes nothing to me.
He never called again after his paperwork for the new job was done. He lingered at my office during lunch breaks, phoned Ben, asked him to tell his mum wed still be together. My exmotherinlaw stopped answering. Weeks later James met me and Ben at school.
Emma, Im leaving
Good luck.
Ben, dads going far, but not for long, James said, looking at me, his eyes pleading. You got nothing to say?
Ben tugged my sleeve, his first lesson was English, he wasnt allowed to be late.
I said all I needed. I hope the change helps you.
Dont count on it, I wont abandon you.
James hugged Ben tight, tried to hug me too, but I stepped back. He clenched his jaw and walked to his car.
Ill forgive you, Emma, he shouted from the roadside, but Ill never forgive the betrayal.
His words made me smile oddly; perhaps he finally understood.
Three months of calm passed; I walked the streets of London, unbothered by the occasional blue sedan. I met a friend for coffee, then a colleague. The divorce finally settled, and I cut ties with a mutual friend who kept urging me to keep James in my life she was herself divorced, juggling a single child, forgiving her own ex for petty things.
Claire, another former friend, kept talking about love and fresh starts, offering champagne and new romances all while James pinged me a hundred times a day.
At a café, Claire leaned over, whispering, You deserve a fresh start, love.
I blushed, turned to see a handsome stranger eyeing us. He introduced himself, offered a drink, but we declined. Claire watched him, then disappeared.
Soon after, I met Simon at the same café. We swapped numbers, started texting, and the endless messages from James faded into background noise.
Hey, Ben, hows school? I texted.
Fine, dad, got a five in English! he replied.
Good luck, love.
James called again, angry, Emma, youve got to answer! Ill come over, Ill give you a honeymoon!
I laughed, Finally, youve lost it.
He never called Ben back. He kept harassing my motherinlaw, then Claire, then vanished into his work overseas. He remembered Bens birthday twice a year, NewYears, but otherwise fell silent.
Now I live with Simon, and hes no longer a guest in my flat. Ben adjusted, spending time with both of us, learning the strict British history curriculum from Simon, who loves to explain it to him.
Im still here, writing this, trying to make sense of the chaos that once was my life. The diary pages may never fully capture the ache, but perhaps theyll help me see how far Ive come.
