22April
I cant shake the feeling that Ive spent my whole adult life living for someone else, and now I realise how foolish that was.
Tonight, the night before, I watched VictorJames, as Ill call himwalk towards the hallway with a suitcase in his hand. He didnt look at me, didnt even say a word, and the click of the lock on his bag sounded like a verdict. I clutched at the sleeve of his blazer with a grip that made the knuckles on my fingers turn white.
Eleanor, let go, he said, his tone flat, as if reading from a script. Ive already made up my mind. Stop the drama. You know its over between us.
I dont understand! I shouted, my voice cracking. Just yesterday we were planning a holiday, talking about renovating the bathroom, and now youre packing your things?
He had told me earlier that day we would be going away for the summer, his smile vague, his replies halfhearted. Then, out of nowhere, he blurted, Eleanor, Im leaving for Claire. At first I thought Id misheard. Then I convinced myself it was a joke. But his eyes were serious.
Whos Claire? I managed to ask, my throat dry.
My colleague. Weve been seeing each other for six months, he replied as if discussing the weather, as if it were a new television set, not the collapse of my marriage.
I sank into the armchair, looking at the man Id spent twenty years with and barely recognising him. Where had my shy, gentle, caring James gone? In his place stood a stranger with cold eyes.
I lay awake all night, wrapped in an old dressing gown, replaying every day of our life together in my head, hunting for the moment when things went wrong. How had I missed the chill in his tone? When did I fail to notice a rival appearing?
Now he was at the front door, the suitcase at his feet, ready to walk out, leaving me bewildered, stunned, crushed.
James, please, lets talk, I said, my voice no longer a scream but a plea. Twenty years isnt something you just throw away in a heartbeat. Did something happen at work? Do you need time to think?
Theres nothing to think about, Eleanor, he said, not even looking at me, fiddling with the zip on his bag. I love another woman. Youre boring me. Youre a good housewife, but that isnt enough. Claire understands me; shes interesting.
So Im just a cook and a laundress now? bitterness rose in me.
I never said that. Dont twist my words, he snapped, his lips pressed into a thin line. Lets keep this civil. Ill call a solicitor, well arrange the divorce. Ill leave you the flat, dont worry.
I dont want the flat! I want a family! I want you! I raised my voice again.
Eleanor, stop. My cab is waiting downstairs.
He clicked the suitcase lock, cast a quick glance around as if making sure he hadnt forgotten anything, and headed for the door.
James! I lunged after him. If you walk out now, dont ever come back! Do you hear me? Never!
He turned at the threshold, eyes rolling.
Youre always so dramatic, Eleanor. Lets not make a scene. Ill collect the rest of my things next week.
The door slammed shut. I leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. The room was emptyno tears, no pain, just a deafening void and a bewildering sense of loss.
Harriet, my closest friend, burst through the door as soon as she heard the news. She took in the scene: me sitting in a chair, eyes vacant, photographs scattered, a broken vase on the floor.
Sweetheart, Harriet said, enfolding me in a hug, let me make us a cup of tea and you tell me everything.
While the kettle whistled, Harriet cleared the shards, fetched a blanket, and wrapped it around my shivering shoulders.
Hes gone to a younger woman, isnt he? she asked once I steadied myself.
I dont even know, I shrugged. He saidcolleague, that Claire thing.
The usual cliché, Harriet sighed. Grey hair on the chin, devil on the shoulder.
He looks fine, actually, I protested. And that woman she cant be much younger than us.
So what does it matter? The point is he swapped twenty years of a happy marriage for an affair with a coworker.
Is it my fault? I asked, eyes glistening. Did I do something wrong, miss something?
Dont blame yourself! Harriet snapped. Ive seen how you lived all these yearseverything for the family, for him. You gave up your own ambitions because he said a womans place is at home. You cooked his diet when the doctor warned about cholesterol, you postponed trips to your sisters because he wanted to repaint the sitting room.
But thats normal, I whispered. Im his wife; I should look after him.
Thats the problemshould. Youve spent your whole life catering to everyone else: husband, motherinlaw, society. When did you ever cater to yourself?
I stared at the floor, a thought Id never entertained. I grew up in a modest Yorkshire town, married young to a promising young man from a welloff academic family. His parents never regarded me as an equal. To prove myself I quit the music conservatory my mother wanted me to attend, took a secretarial job at a respectable firm, then gave that up when James insisted I become a fulltime housewife.
We never had childrenmy first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage at three months, and doctors later told us my chances of carrying a child were slim. James was disappointed; he wanted a son. Over time he settled, and I tried to fill the emptiness by pouring all my love into him.
Maybe its for the best, Harriet said gently, time to start living for yourself.
How can you say that? My life is over! I cried.
Dont be ridiculous. Youre fortytwo, still beautiful, with a whole life ahead. Look at youwhere is the real Eleanor? The one who sang with a tremor of excitement, who dreamed of traveling, who wanted to help children in care homes?
Silence fell. Harriet was rightthe real Eleanor had been buried under years of duty.
Alright, she said, standing, Ill stay the night. Tomorrow well think about what to do next. For now, take a shower and drink this. She handed me a small tablet. Itll help you sleep.
Morning brought no relief. I felt shattered. Harriet was bustling in the kitchen, humming as she prepared breakfast.
Good morning, sleepyhead! she chirped, presenting a halfcooked omelette.
I dont want it, I muttered. I cant even swallow a bite.
Fine, Harriet said, switching off the hob, lets pack a bag and head to my cottage. Fresh air does wonders.
No, thanks, I replied, exhausted, Ill stay. Maybe James will change his mind and come back
Will you take him back after he left you for another woman? Harriet asked sharply.
Claire isnt the first fling, I mumbled. He says shes interesting.
So youre boring to him? Harriet shot back. He thinks hes clever, reading books, attending lectures, but he has no friends, his only hobby is the sofa and the telly. You guessed his every wish for twenty years, and now hes bored.
Enough, I snapped. James is educated, reads, listens to lectures
Does he ever take you with him? Harriet asked.
No, I never wanted to, I admitted weakly. I always had house duties.
Of course the soup wont cook itself, Harriet retorted. And apparently Claire can both cook and attend intellectual events.
I sighed, realizing perhaps I was at fault for letting the marriage become dull, for sinking into domesticity and neglecting my own growth.
Lets go to the cottage, I said suddenly. Youre right, I need a distraction.
Harriets cottage was a tiny, cosy cottage overrun with blossoms, the only sound being birdsong. It was perfect for regaining my bearings. We spent the days digging in the garden, picking berries, and the physical labour forced my mind away from James and his betrayal.
One evening, perched on the verandah with tea made from freshly harvested redcurrants, Harriet asked, Do you remember singing at music school? You had a voice like honey.
Its a thing of the past, I waved her off.
No, you havent lost it. You just buried it. James was always jealous of your talent.
What nonsense, I protested. He thought singing in clubs was unprofessional.
You could have gone professional, Harriet insisted. Your teacher said you had huge potential. Remember Mr. Ivan? He wanted to send you to the conservatory.
What does that have to do with now?
It shows you buried yourself alive for a husband who never appreciated you.
The thought lingered. I had once dreamed of the stage, of music. Then James arrived and everything changed.
Lets go to the local club, Harriet suggested one Saturday. Theres live music and karaoke. Well have a go.
Are you mad? I laughed nervously. Im almost fortythree, a married womanwell, a former one
Exactly, Harriet grinned. Youre now a single woman with choices. Either sit and mourn or start living again.
The club was noisy, lights flashing, a crowd of young people. I felt out of place, but with a glass of wine and Harriets encouragement, I loosened up.
Time for karaoke! the host announced.
No, I wont, I protested.
You will, Harriet said firmly. Enough hiding.
Before I knew it, I was on stage, microphone in hand, the opening line of a old favourite flickering on the screen: Ill never forget you from a classic ballad. My voice started shaky, then grew steadier with each note. The room fell silent, then erupted in applause.
A man in his forties, wearing jeans and a checked shirt, approached me after.
Brilliant! he exclaimed. Are you a professional singer?
No, Im just a housewife, I muttered, embarrassed.
I cant believe it, he said, shaking his head. Im Michael, I run the local choir.
I shook his hand.
Would you consider joining? We have a solo part open.
Harriet nudged me, whispering, See? Youre talented.
I hesitated, then took his card.
The next morning I woke with a strange flutter of excitement. I called Michael and arranged a meeting. The choir was amateur but good, rehearsals three times a week at the community centre. Michael, after hearing me again, offered me solo pieces.
Its never too late to change, he said, smiling.
I still havent signed the divorce papers. I keep hoping James might come round, that hell regret his decision. He did turn up at the door one afternoon, looking for me.
Can I come in? he asked.
Sure, I said, opening the door.
He looked around, noting the new curtains, the rearranged furniture.
Youve redecorated? he remarked. You havent signed the papers yet. My solicitor is on my case.
My heart thudded. He wasnt here to reconcile; he was here to push the paperwork.
Ive been busy, I replied. Singing in a choir, rehearsals, performances.
You? In a choir? he stared, shocked. Thats amateur.
It matters to me, I said coolly. I even have solo parts now.
He shrugged. So what? Youve changed, lost weight? What do you want?
I want a cup of coffee, I said, heading to the kitchen.
While I brewed, he stared at me, a mixture of irritation and curiosity.
You know what? Claire isnt as great as I thought, he confessed later, after drinking the coffee. Shes always out, meeting friends, has her own interests. At home she hardly cooks.
I tried not to smile. It was clear why he left.
What do you want from me now? I asked.
Maybe we could try again? he suggested, eyes pleading. I never filed for divorce.
The solicitors papers?
That was just a scare tactic, he said, waving his hand. Eleanor, you love me, dont you? Twenty years isnt a joke.
No, James, I said calmly. Ive learned a lot this month. I lived for you, and you never valued that. You left when you wanted something new, never thinking of my feelings. Now that its inconvenient, you want to return.
You dont understand! he shouted. I made a mistake! I love you!
No, you dont understand, I replied. You love the comfort I created for you. You love being served. You never truly knew the real me, and you never wanted to.
What do you mean real me? he asked, bewildered.
The part of me that loves to sing, that wants to learn, that craves the world beyond these walls.
He looked at me as if I were mad.
Eleanor, stop. Youre my wife; weve been together twenty years. Yes, I was a fool, but things will be different now. I promise.
Yes, everything will be different, I said, smiling sadly. But not with you. Ill sign the papers and send them to your solicitor. Now I have to get ready for rehearsal.
He lunged towards the door, shouting, Youll regret this! No one will need you in that choir!
The door slammed. I stood there a moment, listening to my own breathing. The silence felt lighter, almost pleasant. I walked to the mirror, fixed my hair, swiped a bit of colour on my lips, and smiled at my reflection.
Lived for him. And for nothing, I thought, and headed out to the choir, where new songs and new friends awaited. Perhaps even a new love Michael seemed genuinely interested but that is a story for another day.
