Fate
The day hadnt gone well.
That happens, James knew, but stilleverything felt tiresome.
He brooded over his life.
What had he achieved? Nearly forty, school behind him, college done, a stint in the army.
He had a flat, a wife, two kids, an old banger of a car, and a ridiculous allotment that demanded endless work.
Lazing about with a pint wasnt for himno, it was all digging beds, weeding, clearing away dead plants.
Carting soil in a wheelbarrow all day, mowing the lawn, the shed roof collapsing, the fence rotting and toppling over.
The tram rattled and screeched like an old tin can as it swayed along the tracks. James sat by the window, watching the streetlights flicker and stretch into a bright chain in the darkness, lost in thought.
He thought about his life.
On paper, it was all as it should befamily, job, the allotment, payday, the kids, his parents, the in-laws.
Football on weekends, a pint after a sauna at the allotment…
Birthdays and holidays with family, everything ordinary.
But suddenly, James realised it had all become dull, quiet, predictable. He longed for something differentexcitement, new sensations.
It struck himhed always been the steady one, the convenient one, convenient for everyone else…
A feeling crept over him… that hed spent his whole life walking the path laid out for him, never once daring to stray.
What if he could start over?
For some reason, he thought of Lucy, his first love. How theyd walked hand in hand, dreaming together, their first kiss… the dizzying passion of those days…
James even wiped away a tear, fogging his glasses.
It couldve been so different…
Lucy… Bright, full of laughter, always with a mischievous grin. How hed agonised over their breakup. Then came Sarahcalm, reliable, the opposite of Lucy. With Sarah, everything was sensible, measured.
Want to take her to bed? Fineafter the wedding.
Brought her flowers? The ones you nicked from the park?
«Honestly, James, you couldve been finedor worse, dragged into some council meeting…»
Everything was like that.
Right after the wedding, she started calling his parents «Mum and Dad.»
Slipped effortlessly into domestic life, of course. His parents adored herclever, kind, accommodating, the perfect homemaker.
But maybe that wasnt what hed wanted. Maybe he…
James drifted deeper into his thoughts.
They hadnt even argued… Hed just… chickened out. Never took that final step. And then shed vanished, disappeared.
Later, someone mentioned Lucy had married someone else…
At the next stop, the tram jerked, doors screeching open. One stream of people poured out, another flooded in, spreading through the carriage.
James stood and squeezed toward the backthree stops till his. He hadnt taken public transport in ages, used to his own car, even if it was an old wreck.
He turned to the window when he heard a bright, familiar voice.
«Jimmy, stand still, would you?»
He turned, scanning the crowd for the speaker but couldnt spot her.
Tired, worn-out faces everywhere, lost in their own worries, staring into the dark or at nothing.
Then he saw hera heavyset woman gripping a boys hand, about ten, fidgeting, desperate to tell her something.
«Mum, guess what? Vicky at school»
«James, please, just stand still.»
«But I wanna tell you now!»
«Later.»
«I dont wanna later! At home, youll be cooking, then Anniell bang on about her boyfriends, then Stevell drone on about uni. Then you and Dadll start yapping about that stupid allotmentwhat about me? Whyd I have to be the youngest? And whyd you give me this stupid name?»
«Dont be silly. Its a lovely name.»
«Oh yeah, lovely.
*James the sparrow, rode a horse, hit a tree, lost his pants…* Thats what they call me, Mum!»
«You ought to listen to your boy,» chimed an old woman with dyed-red hair and a crimson beret. «One day, when hes grown, youll want to talk, and he wont.»
«Whys that?» the woman snapped.
«He wont care to.»
The woman snorted and shot James a sharp glance. Their eyes metjust for a secondbefore she turned away, bending to her son.
«Go on, then. But keep it down.»
The boy chattered eagerly, and she listened.
And then it hit him… that was… Lucy.
Of course it was Lucy. How hadnt he recognised her?
So this was his unlived life. This was what couldve been.
That boy she wouldnt listen tothat couldve been his. Those older kids shed fuss overhis. That allotment shed complain abouthis.
But then… would he really be happier with her?
She hadnt even recognised him. To her, he was just another face on the tram.
A strange lightness filled him. Suddenly, the routine with Sarah and the kids didnt seem so grey. Even the allotmenthe loved the damned thing.
And he and his father-in-law had plans to go fishing… James smiled. No, Sarah always had time for everyone.
His life was good. Better than good.
Funnyif his car hadnt broken down, hed still be brooding over how things mightve been. But the fix was simplehe and the lads would sort it in a couple of evenings.
As the tram slowed, James edged toward the exit, pausing near Lucy and her son. He leaned down and whispered something to the boy.
The boy blinked, then grinned, even giggling.
James stepped off at his stop and walked home.
«Whatd he say?» Lucy asked.
«That man? He taught me how to answer that bully.»
«How?»
*»If Im a sparrow, youre a starlingall squawk, no brains.»*
«He always did have a sharp tongue.»
«Who, Mum? That man? You know him?»
«Dont be daft.»
Lucy sank onto a freed-up seat, pulling her son down beside her. They had miles to goalmost to the end of the line. Her husband couldnt pick them up today, so theyd had to take the tram.
Lately, shed been irritable, dissatisfied… caught in thoughts of how things mightve been different.
If she hadnt met Michael, if shed waited for James to propose…
And now fate had thrown this meeting her way.
Some ordinary bloke, mid-forties, a bit of a paunch, thinning hairjust another tired commuter heading home.
All the magic, the sparkgone.
«Jimmy… lets bake a cake tonight.»
«Really, Mum? A zebra cake?»
«Alright, a zebra cake.»
«YES!»
«Keep your voice down!»
Michael had insisted on naming their son Jamesafter his granddad. Lucy hadnt objected.
It was a good name.
James ducked into a flower shop near home, just before closing. Only three white carnations left on display.
«How much?»
«Eh?» The shopkeeper, weary and cross, glared at him.
«For the flowers.»
«None left. Cant you see?»
«These?»
«Oh, those… take em.»
«I cant justheres a quid.»
«Dont be daft. Go on, take emhere, let me wrap»
«Dont bother.»
At home, he handed the flowers to Sarah. Instead of grumbling about wasted money, she smiledquietly.
«Whats this for?»
«Just felt like it… Sal… wanted to make you happy.»
Later, sprawled on the sofa, he listened as she chatted on the phone in the hall, door half-shut.
«Mine brought me flowers today,» she said, offhand. «No reason… hes always been a bit of a romantic. James smiled to himself, the kind of slow, quiet smile that needed no audience. The radiator hissed, the kids were finally asleep, and Sarahs voice hummed through the wall like a tune hed known all his life. He closed his eyes, not wishing for different paths, not wondering what ifjust feeling the warmth of the room, the weight of the day, and the strange, soft miracle of being exactly where he was.
