Running late

I’m in my usual morning position, standing at the kitchen counter, feet in slippers, in front of the microwave. I’m waiting for my coffee which is heating in the microwave. It mustn’t boil. One minute thirty is perfect. I rotate my head on my shoulders gingerly, ignoring the cricks. Yes, I probably overdid the wine last night. But… with reason. It seemed as if the clock had gone back thirteen years, no seventeen, and I was hopelessly back ‘in love’ with the boy-next- door. Well, not exactly ‘next door,’, but Luke fitted that description for me, stereotype or not. I’ve been bowled over, all over again, by what can best be described as remembered happiness.

Luke told me, yesterday evening, at the end of our reunion-date , that he still loves me and always will, that to him nothing has changed. We’d eaten lasagne, drunk a bottle or two of Pinot Noir. We’d talked..and talked, endlessly and effortlessly. Indeed it seems that nothing had changed at The Old Oak Tree, our favourite cafe, now a more sophisticated restaurant but with the same welcoming feel. The proprietor, Joe, had waved cheerily at me: “Hello Cathy!” as if I hadn’t been away for more than a week, and indicated ‘our’ table in the corner. There under the warm glow of the strings of fairy-lights (a recent addition), Luke had grasped both my hands across the table in the old way, looking at me with that remembered half-quizzical expression in his eyes. With relief and joy flooding me, I’d been only too happy to agree that such a thing could be possible. No more over-thinking, I’d told myself. The gap, ten or more years seemed to fall away: they never happened. Things were as before: we are back together, as we were always meant to be. Simple.

Simple? Maybe it was the familiar atmosphere that had contributed to a new hope. The music: “Tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak-tree..”and the familiar mouth-watering aroma of garlic and oregano in the homely restaurant where we had shared so many meals more than a decade ago. Everything had seemed to be clicking back into place.

I need coffee…

Oops, forgot to press Start. I select 1.30 and press Start, and the microwave hums reassuringly.

How old was I when I first met Luke? Fourteen? Luke, boy three doors away from the home where I grew up . Our first ‘date’ had been at the skating rink. We had gone on our bicycles, so carefree...

Ah, what a few glasses of sparkling rose can do, I think. Yesterday evening was our first ‘date’ since the day, ten years ago, when I handed Luke back his ring, ignoring (with difficulty) his shock and complete disbelief. I boarded that plane to California, headstrong and stupid, to start a new phase of my life. What had possessed me? I had accepted the offer of a new job in a startup company. I would go out, see the world, experience the far side!

I discovered only too quickly that it was a huge mistake: the biggest I’d ever made, and the first of many. The ‘startup’ in San Francisco never did any more than ‘start’. It fizzled out, as did my unexpected relationship, more of a ‘fling’, with the founder of the company. I’d been dazzled by his charm, and his effortlessly-understated style. It turned out that he was ‘understated’ because there wasn’t much to state, beneath that veneer. What an idiot. Of course I was still reeling from what I’d done. I was emotionally adrift. I’d been terrified of the permanent commitment that was marriage with Luke, the ‘till death do us part’ bit.

The new relationship in San Francisco, if it could even be called a relationship ended quickly… and not as cleanly as I would have liked. I went on to make other mistakes, too many to think about.

I’d eventually returned to my hometown and my roots, sadly disillusioned, guided by something in me that still longed for home. Astonishingly, I’d found my old apartment unexpectedly vacant, and snapped it up. It wasn’t my only stroke of luck. Before long I ran straight into the man I’d left behind: the man who’d ‘never stopped’ loving me!

Last night in our cosy little bistro, Luke was as he always had been, the man I’d been lucky enough to fall in love with. (That is, if the notion of love that lasts exists.) As always, he was convincingly, disarmingly himself. Not only has he carried the years with confidence and assurance, he looks almost exactly the same. The grey streaks in his hair suit him. So does the beard! Whilst exuding competence and maturity, he is reassuringly composed and firm in his (apparently) unquestioning assertion that I am his ‘partner’ and soulmate...still. He even apologised, last night, with that familiar, self-deprecating smile and apology for using the cliché ‘soulmate’! He never had changed his mind, he said, not even for a minute. I floated home, dizzy and so happy, in the knowledge that we were meant for each other… all over again.

The glow and the dizzy sense of having been given a chance to begin again had gone as I awoke this morning to the shrill alarm on my phone. My Shadow was back, quietly filling my mind with doubts.

Ping. Coffee ready. I pour the coffee into my blue mug, which had the tiny chip at the rim, the glazing cracked into a fine web. I had been delighted to find it on a shelf in the back room, looking as it it had been waiting for me. How could the previous tenants have overlooked it? Of course, it had no value to anyone except me. It felt as though the apartment had kept a piece of me safe, even when I hadn’t. I curl up at one end of the sofa, near the bay window that looks out on my hometown, and ponder.

Beep. I didn’t dare look at my phone.

His proposal on that day, a lifetime ago, when he’d asked me to marry him, had caught me off-guard. How had I not known it was coming? I ignored the fact that I had at first felt overwhelmed by the weight of what it meant. I quieted the questions rising in my mind. I jumped at it! Things moved fast. We spent as much time together as we could. We argued, and made up... We made pizza, climbed rocks, camped under the stars, went on a cruise, looked at houses, and planned our wedding. We had a trial breakup, cried, couldn’t wait to get together again. Ours was clearly a ‘marriage made in heaven’, everyone said, and I’d agreed... I loved the wedding preparations, the choice of venue, bridesmaids, outfits, my mother’s excitement, the planning for our perfect future together.

Perfect. That was the word. Perfect?

The fear set in fairly quickly. Everything had gathered pace before I had caught my breath , so it’s no surprise really that, with events cascading forward faster than I could think, I plunged into panic. Later, I told myself that it was the fact that it was all so perfect that spooked me. Nothing could be so ‘right’. Life isn’t like that. I knew that something would happen to destroy our perfect happiness. The gods are jealous. Some deeply-buried perversity made me call a halt, hand back the ring, cancel everything and cancel all my chances at happiness.

Beep. I find that my Shadow is curled up on the other end of the sofa. I hadn’t seen her arrive. She’s good at making herself part of the furniture. She’s talkative as usual.

Shadow: you don’t really believe this? It’s ridiculous. Look at the time that’s passed. You’re setting yourself up for massive disappointment ... all over again. You’re smart, worldly-wise.

OK, you ran out! But in doing so you did what you were supposed to do: protect yourself from betrayal, disappointment, disillusionment. Do you really think that one evening, which was just a reunion of old friends, could herald the beginning of your life as it was meant to be?

As I try to field this, another voice joins the melee. Out of the corner of my eye I see my cousin Lydia sitting, as she always used to, on the only bar-stool at my kitchen island, her slim legs crossed elegantly, cigarette waving as she pontificated.

“You actually think that real happiness exists, after all? Don’t you know better by now? Marriage? You know perfectly well it’s an institution that has outlived its purpose. It doesn’t last... outdated... belongs to another era !”

Lydia had had three marriages and as many divorces. I had wondered why she was so scathing about my wedding plans. But she wasn’t going to influence me. And I hadn’t invited her to my wedding. We had planned a small ceremony in a large field on the outskirts of town. Not her scene. Impatiently, I wave Lydia aside, and turn my back on Shadow, finally allowing myself the questions that have been impatiently awaiting my attention from the minute I woke up. I have done rather well in keeping them at bay... Now they are tumbling over each other, in no particular order.

Why did I agree to see him again? What does he really want? Does he really think true, lasting love exists? Can you turn the clock back? What do I want? What if he is only doing this to salve his pride? Surely he hates me? What if he doesn’t? What if he still cares? What if I do?

Beep.

Luke isn’t a total walk-over. He has his pride. After telling me his heart was still mine, he added, rather touchingly stumbling over his words,

“But...this is the last time I’ll ask. I know you might feel that you need time, but time is not endless. I want you more than anything in the world, but if at this point you still have doubts, you still feel that this could all capsize (the ‘again’ was understood) then please say so? I can’t face it all happening again..” He tailed off. I was smitten, in more ways than one. I felt almost choked by love !… and at the same time smitten by guilt. Who do you think you are? He’s a good man, far more than I deserve! I had nearly ruined his hopes of true happiness, or so he said. I had behaved appallingly, and here he was, giving me another chance.

Last night I had reluctantly stood up, murmured my thanks, and in a happy fuzzy dream had walked the short distance home. He'd offered to walk with me but I needed space. I'd given him what I owed at the very least, an assurance that I would let him know, absolutely for sure, tomorrow. ( I would let him know?? Where have you been all these years, lady? ) We’d agreed to meet, same time, same place, if my answer is yes. We'd start the work of restoring all that had been lost by my over-thinking. After a quick hug I had left, to walk the short distance back home. I’d slept surprisingly well, but had awoken with a sinking heart, to confront the all-too-familiar doubts jostling for space in my muzzy head. I’d stumbled into the kitchen, phone in hand.

Now, the phone vibrates again. This time I am brave enough to read the incoming message.

Peering at the screen, I read.

“My place, any time?” My heart gave a leap. Maybe the delay was as hard for him as.....?

I start to type.

Delete.

Shadow had more to say. You've wasted to best years of your life. And his, if he's to be believed that he's been waiting all this time! Hanging around hoping? And you? You've got no right to such a good ending. Is he really willing to overlook the past ten years... neither of you knows anything about what's been going on in the other's life. Get real!

That 's it! I'm done! My heart has made its mind up.

I pull coat, boots, and without even a glance in the mirror I’m out of the door, walking. I know the way. I ran along this road ten years ago, in the opposite direction. As an assured, seasoned woman of the world, I shall retrace my steps at a dignified pace. I could find his place blindfolded.