Happier Than She's Ever Been... (8 page)

‘Yes,' Ben said, ‘and I did, I
do
. For the first few months, at least, and then for the last few it's been harder, and now I'm starting to wonder if it's ever going to be about “us” again, or if it's always going to be about them, about you.'

‘Oh, come on,' May said. Though she could hear herself being defensive and unsympathetic, she felt threatened and couldn't stop herself. ‘For centuries women have been doing nothing but supporting men, standing behind them, listening endlessly and helping in every way, completely subjugating themselves… and when a man is asked to do the same, he can't,
can he
?'

‘Hey,' Ben said softly. ‘It's not like that, not at all. I don't want you to do that. And I know it wasn't fair. I know history wasn't fair to women, but that's not what it's like with us; that's not the point. It's not about being equals; it's about being connected, about knowing each other intimately, but you haven't asked about me, how I'm feeling, for so long. And I can't remember the last time we made love.'

‘Don't be silly,' May said. ‘It was only, only last…'

‘Yes?' Ben said, triumphant. ‘When?'

‘Oh, for goodness sake, is sex all that matters?' May stopped pacing, put her palms on the table and stared at Ben, her face flushed with fury. Deep, deep down she knew she was being unreasonable and Ben had a point, but that only made her more angry. ‘I threw my love and my life away on a man once,' May cried. ‘I gave up on everything I ever wanted. I made him the whole and entire reason I got up in the morning. And it all went to shit –'

‘Oh, yes.' Ben sighed. ‘The famous amazing Jake, the guy who fucked you up and left me to pick up the pieces –'

‘Shut up, shut up!' May shouted, remembering how desperate she'd felt, how hollow and bereft, as though her core, her very sense of self, had unravelled, twisting and contorting itself in a crazy, vain bid to keep hold of Jake. And how, when he'd finally left her, she'd completely fallen apart, feeling completely empty and alone, having lost her love and herself. ‘That was the worst mistake I ever made and I'm not doing it again. Okay? I'm never doing it again!'

May glared at Ben and he just looked back at her, shocked into silence. Not knowing what else to say or do, May turned and ran out of the room. A moment later Ben heard the front door slam.

As she stood on the street, her heart racing and tears running down her cheeks, May felt a surge of regret in her heart. She wanted to run back up to Ben and bury herself in his arms. But she was scared too. She really couldn't bear to make the same mistake with him as she'd made with Jake. She didn't think her heart would survive being smashed all over again – even though May knew that Ben wasn't the same as Jake, even though she knew he really loved her, all of her, even when she was being needy and neurotic, no matter what. Rationally she knew that, but, underneath it all, she was still scared.

So May stood on the street and, not knowing what to do next, just started walking. After about an hour she stopped and looked around. It was a neighbourhood she didn't know, quite scruffy but almost quaint, with unique boutiques scattered up and down the street. Most of them needed repainting and brightening up a bit, but all in all it felt like a safe place to catch one's breath, a safe place to stop and think, and a safe place to just be. May walked a few steps and leant against the doorframe of an old sweet shop, no longer trading but still with all its wares in the window: glass jars of SweeTarts, Lemon Drops, Jaw Breakers and Candy Hearts. May stared into the window for a while. Soft memories of childhood delight bubbled up inside her and, for a few forgetful moments, she was seven years old again, gripping her mother's hand and gazing up over the counter at the array of rainbow colours that greeted her: treats of all shapes and sizes, one of which she would be allowed to choose and consume, with sticky fingers and sugar-coated lips, on their way home.

May looked up from the window to the faded sign that said ‘Just Sweet Enough' in long loping letters and creaked in a gust of wind. As she gazed at it May considered whether or not she should carry on walking, but for some reason she wanted to stay. So she sat down on the pavement, among the mess of squashed cardboard boxes and assorted sticky sweet wrappers, still too upset with Ben to care about the dirt.

Just then a rustling a few feet away made May sit up. A man had emerged from underneath a pile of cardboard boxes. May stared at him, eyes wide. He didn't look at her, but proceeded to pick specks of lint off his trousers. May glanced away, fixing her gaze straight ahead, her whole body stiff. She wanted to leave, as fast as possible, but she didn't want to offend the man and possibly incur his wrath. So she stayed still, waiting for a good moment to make her getaway.

Eventually, when all the lint was dispensed with, the man turned to her. ‘Who are
you
?' he asked.

‘I'm, sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just, just –' May searched for the closest word to the truth – ‘resting. I'll go.'

May got ready to stand, but the old man waved her down.

‘Please, stay.' The homeless man reached out his hand. ‘I'm Harry.'

She took it and replied, ‘May.'

‘So, May, what's a nice young lady like you doing in a place like this?'

‘Oh.' She glanced around. ‘I don't know, it doesn't seem like such a bad place to be.'

‘Well, yes, it's one of the better places in the city. More often than not it's home to me, but it doesn't seem like home to you.'

‘I, well, you see –' but May was too tired to lie so she plumped for the truth – ‘I just had a big fight with my boyfriend. I ran out of the house. I didn't know what else to do, so I suppose I just kept going…'

‘Well, that's a natural enough reaction to conflict: the flight-or-fight response,' Harry said, ‘though sadly not at all a helpful one.'

‘Yes,' May admitted, ‘I can see that now. I just, I was so upset I couldn't stand it. I just wanted it all to go away, so I guess… I guess I went away instead.'

‘You know, in fifty-one years of marriage,' Harry said, stretching out his legs, ‘my wife and I, well, we fought often enough, but we made a point never to let our outbursts last more than half an hour. To the minute. And they never did. We always made up quickly, let it – whatever it was – go and went back to listening to and loving each other. That way we never had the chance to inflict irreparable damage. And, the thing is, we never really needed more than half an hour, even if we really wanted to keep fighting at the time. And the next day we'd barely remember what it was that upset us in the first place. Funny that, isn't it?'

‘Really?' May stared at him, incredulous. ‘That's amazing.'

‘Yes, she was, when we were together. Edith was my whole life.' Harry smiled wistfully. ‘My very reason for happiness. We worked together every day and never spent a night apart.'

‘Wow,' May said. ‘That's… wow.'

‘This was our shop.' Harry nodded up at Just Sweet Enough and let out a little sigh. ‘I had to re-mortgage it when she got sick. Health insurance wouldn't cover it. Then… it was repossessed last year, three months after Edith died.'

‘O-oh,' May stammered, tears in her eyes. ‘I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.'

Harry laughed. ‘I had more love in my lifetime than most have in twenty. I was always the luckiest man I knew. Now the winter of my life has stripped me bare with loss. But, all in all, given the life I've had, I'm still one of the luckiest men alive.'

‘That's beautiful,' May said, feeling her shoulders relaxing and some of the tension seeping out of her. ‘But it's not just luck, is it? To have a love like that, I mean. You must have worked really hard to have it.'

‘Oh, we didn't work so very hard,' Harry said. ‘We just watched out for a few things. We made each other a few promises and stuck to them. That's all.'

‘Like what?' May blurted out, before realising he might think her a little rude. ‘If you don't mind me asking.'

‘Oh, of course not.' Harry smiled. ‘I'm always happy to help out a lovely young lady in distress.'

May blushed a little in the darkness.

‘First, we always told each other the truth, no matter how scary it seemed to be. And it was always our own truth, from our point of view. We took responsibility for the way we felt inside; we didn't blame each other for it.'

May squinted at him, trying to understand.

‘That's where most couples go wrong, you see. They blame their partners for the way they feel,' Harry explained. ‘Of course it's easy enough to do. Especially since our partners know exactly what to say to trigger our sadness, pain or anger. And when they do, and we react, we blame them. So they defend themselves, and then we're fighting them.'

‘But it sort of is their fault, isn't it?' May asked. ‘I mean, if they try to trigger our anger or pain on purpose…'

‘Oh, but you see “fault” is already a fighting concept; it's already putting you on opposing teams instead of the same one. I'm suggesting that if we take responsibility for the way we feel, then we won't react to people in the same way; we'll be able to see them without hate or blame and then we'll be able to understand
why
they are trying to hurt us. Then we'll be able to help heal them, us, the relationship, the whole kit-'n'-caboodle.'

‘Well.' May smiled. ‘I suppose that's a nice way of looking at it. I –'

‘It's the
only
way of looking at it,' Harry said, ‘if you want to actually live a life instead of fight a war. If you want to feel loved and blessed, then it's the thing to do. Of course, not everyone does. Some people like the fight, but I just leave them to it.'

‘I know I was wrong today,' May admitted, ‘I think I've been wrong for a while. It's just… I got a little lost in my own thing and forgot about him. And I wanted to be independent, not to lose myself in a relationship like I did before, but this time I guess I went too far the other way.'

‘Well, that's where forgiveness comes in,' Harry said, ‘and empathy. And compassion. All essential ingredients in any marriage.'

May nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose so. Not that we're married though.'

‘Oh, living in sin, eh?' Harry raised an eyebrow in mock shock. ‘Well, the way Edith and I lived, we always gave each other the benefit of the doubt. We didn't take the other person's behaviour personally, and we let things go, almost even before they'd happened. So if I was in a bad mood about something, she'd simply wait until it passed. And if she was feeling bad, if she was rude to me, the first thing I always did was ask her what was wrong.'

‘That's amazing,' May said. ‘No wonder you were so happy.'

‘We just decided to put the relationship first,' Harry explained, ‘which meant that we both won. But when you're fighting one of you is going to lose. Which, of course, ultimately means you both lose.'

May nodded again, thinking about how she'd left Ben at home, how she'd tried to hurt him simply because she was feeling hurt.

‘When it comes to forgiveness, remember this,' Harry said. ‘In a marriage, in any relationship, both partners have their point of view; both believe themselves to be right. Otherwise there would be no fight. So you can always use empathy and compassion to stop an argument before it begins. When your partner is behaving badly you can try to ask why, instead of immediately defending yourself. If a usually kind person is shouting, or being rude, it's invariably because they're in some sort of pain and they just don't know how to express themselves in any other way.'

May sighed. ‘I wish I'd done that tonight.' She began to realise just how much she'd been losing herself and neglecting her relationship in her single-minded focus on her own personal cause.

‘Don't forget to forgive yourself,' Harry said, smiling, ‘or you'll just end up punishing your boyfriend again. After all, there's nothing quite so unattractive and depressing as a little self-loathing, is there?'

May returned his smile. ‘No, I suppose not.'

As she looked at him, Harry started to pull himself up until he was standing, leaning against the wall for support. ‘And now, my dear,' he said, ‘I'm afraid I must go.'

‘Oh?' May said. ‘Why? Where?'

‘I have a long-standing dinner order with the very generous owner of a lovely little patisserie on Height Street,' Harry said, ‘and the window of opportunity is a small one.'

‘Gosh, well, yes, of course,' May said. ‘And I suppose I really should go home. I have some apologising to do, some forgiveness to ask for.'

‘Wonderful.' Harry reached out his hand. ‘And I wish you well.'

‘Thank you,' May said, trying to postpone the moment, not wanting to see him go. ‘Thank you for everything.' And then, suddenly quite overwhelmed with gratitude and not having any other way to say it, May jumped up, took his hand and gave him a kiss on the cheek for saving her life. Or, at the very least, her heart. Then she pulled him into a hug. And while she held him May slipped all the money she had into his jacket pocket.