The second spring of my life
Penelope and her husband Arthur were married for twentysix years. They had met at university, wed after graduation, and two years later a son was born. It was an ordinary English family, nothing out of the ordinary.
The boy grew up, married and moved to London with his wife. When he left, Penelope and Arthur found their days strangely silent. They knew each other like the back of their hands, could finish each others sentences with a glance, yet now there was little to say and even less need to say it. A few words were exchanged and then the room fell quiet.
When Penelope first took a job after university, there was a woman in the office about fortyfive. Though she was only a few years older, Penelope thought her ancient. The woman always took a winter holiday, returning with an even tan. Her boyish short, lightblond haircut only highlighted the warm hue of her skin.
Does she go to a tanning salon? whispered a younger colleague.
One day Penelope could not hold back and asked the woman where she got such a colour in the cold months.
We stayed at a ski resort in the Scottish Highlands with our husbands, the woman answered.
Good heavens! Penelope exclaimed. At your age?
The woman laughed.
At my age? Im only fortyfive. When you reach my years youll understand that this is the real youth not foolishness but mature vigor. Remember, dear, boredom is the biggest foe of a marriage. All affairs and divorces start from boredom. When the children grow up you fall into a calm, steady life. Thats when men start to go off their heads. We women have no time to be bored. We work, look after the children, and all the household chores pile onto our shoulders. Meanwhile the man lies on the settee after work, wondering how to use his idle energy. Some drink, some look for new thrills. As the saying goes, they start hunting for a new woman.
I was foolish, thinking my husband was simply tired, that a bit of idleness in front of the telly was harmless. I flitted about the house like a shaken duster. Then one day he told me he loved another woman, that I bored him, and he left. Can you imagine?
When I remarried, I behaved differently. I made Arthur join in the chores, we spent every weekend away from town, went out into the countryside, and in winter we ski. I gave him no chance to relax on the sofa. To this day we still live together, the children are grown, and we travel around Britain. It may not suit everyone, but take the lesson.
Penelope never forgot the older womans words. She began to notice Arthur, after a hearty supper, trudging to the sofa and plopping in front of the television. He became harder to pull away from the house. Yet not long ago he used to go trekking, raft down rivers, and pull off surprises on her birthday.
She tried to rouse him, buying theatre tickets, a cruise around the Thames on a threedecked paddle steamer.
At the theatre Arthur nodded off; at a visitors house he yawned after a couple of glasses of wine and hurried back to his favourite settee. On the steamer he complained about the cramped cabin, and on the ski slopes his growing belly made him resist the sport.
When Penelope suggested a cinema outing, he stared at her with weary eyes and said:
Where are you dragging me? I just want to rest on the weekend, get a proper sleep. Go with your friends.
In the early days of their marriage Arthur had gone on hikes with his mates. They had formed a little club of likeminded folk, loved whitewater rafting on fast rivers with rapids. Arthur could play the guitar and sing a decent tune.
Penelope never joined them work, pregnancy, and a small son always kept her at home.
Dont give your husband too much leave. Hell find a hobby and a new friend, warned Penrose, Penelopes mother.
An affair doesnt need a mountain hike. You can find someone right here. I trust Arthur, Penelope replied, believing him and waiting for his return from the hills.
Later the clubs ringleader settled down, had children, and the expeditions ceased.
One lazy Sunday Penelope perched beside Arthur on the sofa with a photo album. At first reluctantly, then with growing interest, he flipped through the pictures and sighed.
Wouldnt you like to relive the old days, remember the youth? she asked.
No, and with whom? Everyone has their jobs, grandchildren.
With me. Ive never been on your trips. Take the initiative, call your old mates, maybe someone will agree.
Youre serious? We were reckless youths, now were?
Too sensible? Penelope smiled wryly. Then lets go to the theatre this weekend, have a cultured evening, she said, snapping the album shut and scattering a puff of dust.
Arthur paused. Later, over dinner, he mentioned:
I spoke to a few of the lads. Tom promised to map a route, he still has his old tents. We could rent a raft from the sports club.
Penelope saw the flicker of excitement in his eyes and felt a warm thrill.
He warned her, Itll be hard for a beginner. The river has rapids, mosquitoes, youll sleep on the ground in sleeping bags, no showers, no proper toilets, youll have to crawl under bushes. Youll want to go home after the first day.
I wont quit, Penelope promised.
Fine, Arthur said, eyeing her with a skeptical glance. Youll need proper gear, not highheeled shoes and silk slippers.
They shopped together; Arthur never let her off his arm.
I know youll buy swimsuits and dresses, but a trek needs sturdy boots and warm clothing, he reminded her.
Penelope obeyed, and soon their packs were ready.
Put it on, lets see your preparation, Arthur instructed.
She hoisted the heavy sack, grimaced and bent under its weight, realizing shed have to trudge over uneven ground, gullies and brambles.
Take it off, he said. Lets see what youre really carrying.
She set the pack down, relieved.
Arthur rummaged through it and pulled out curlers, a compact mirror, a hairdryer, countless jars of cream and shampoo, and a pile of summer dresses suitable for a garden party, not a hike.
The mosquitoes will have a field day, he chuckled. Maybe youd rather stay at home? he said with a hint of pity.
Penelope, flustered, wrapped a towel around her head.
Arthur finally cleared the pack, leaving only the essentials. The load lightened dramatically.
I can manage, Penelope declared, feeling buoyed.
She remembered how she had tried to pull Arthur into the theatre and the arts, insisting on her interests, and how he had eventually come along. As a partner, she felt she must stand beside him in both hardship and joy.
The closer they got to departure, the more doubts crept in. At the railway platform they waited for the train that would take them far from the comforts of civilization. With them were three other men and a woman.
Are your other friends divorced? Penelope asked quietly.
No, their wives are with the grandchildren.
The journey was lively; the men told jokes, Arthur dusted off an old guitar from the loft and strummed a few chords. Penelope decided that if the day went well, she could truly enjoy herself.
But after a few miles from the station, her back ached from the pack, her legs trembled, sweat soaked her face. She felt ashamed to complain; the men hauled sleeping bags, tents and a deflated boat with ease.
The countryside was beautiful, yet Penelope saw little of it, focusing only on not stumbling or breaking a bone. When they finally reached the river, she longed to lie on the grass and never move again. The men swiftly lit a fire and pitched tents as if they hadnt tired at all.
Youll get used to it, encouraged Beatrice, the wife of one of the men. Lets fetch water for dinner.
Tears wanted to roll down Penelopes cheeks; she yearned for a hot shower and a soft bed.
Then the night settled in. Arthur played the guitar by the fire, his voice rich and lively. She forgot how handsome his voice sounded. In that moment he was a different man animated, cheerful, the very Arthur she had fallen for in her youth.
The next morning, after a rugged raft ride that left his hands blistered, Arthur asked, halfsmiling, Thinking of running off again?
No, Penelope answered firmly.
At the rapids she hesitated. The river roared, sharp stones jutted from the water. She wanted to suggest staying on the bank, but seeing Arthurs teasing look, she kept silent, clinging tightly to the rafts side, ignoring the oars for fear of plunging into the icy flow.
When the rapids passed, she exhaled a sigh of relief and shouted with joy louder than anyone else.
A week later they returned home, exhausted yet happy, their minds full of fresh memories. Penelope realised she would miss the new friends, the songs around the fire, the open air and silence.
After a warm shower and a hearty supper, they sat side by side at the kitchen table, scrolling through photos on a laptop, teasing each other as they hadnt done for ages. The trek had brought them closer; they again shared common interests. They fell asleep in each others arms just as they had in their early days.
What about another trek next year? Penelope whispered, nestling close to Arthurs familiar side.
You liked it, did you? Its not a night out at the West End. Its life, Arthur laughed.
Now I know how to prepare better. You wont be embarrassed for me, Penelope promised.
It wasnt embarrassing. For a newcomer you did brilliantly. I didnt expect it. You surprised me, Arthur replied, and Penelopes cheeks flushed with pride.
When their son called, she recounted the adventure at length.
Your life sounds wild. I thought youd be bored and lonely, he said.
Were bored, but in a good way. How are things with you? Penelope asked.
Were waiting for a baby, her son announced cheerfully.
After her holiday Penelope returned to work brighteyed, a rope bracelet with beads on her wrist catching a colleagues eye.
Did you holiday in the south? Youre not tanned at all. Lovely little thing, the coworker said, pointing at the bracelet.
Its a talisman. A shaman gave it to me, Penelope replied.
So, if you wish to revive the spark in a marriage, dont stay cooped up at home; try sharing your partners interests. Extreme adventure may not suit everyone, but theres always something else to discover. As a writer once said, Its not a shame to exert effort when saving love.
