A Lifetime of Goodbyes Page 3

  My wife was certain that this was not the case, but if a mother doesn’t know how to speak to her child with kindness and love, the child will absorb the negativity little by little, learning to believe that they are worthless and are not worth loving. This can only lead to trouble later on, and I believe is a leading cause of drug-use and teenage pregnancies.

  My wife came home from court on the day of the trial shaken and with a headache. She was pale and I told her to go to bed and that I would look after the children, see them bathed and fed and put to bed. She said all she wanted to do was to hold her children close to her and to keep them safe and to tell them how much she loved them.

  Our neighbour didn’t end up losing the girls, but the situation shook the whole street to the core. We will never really know what went on in that house, how alone the girls often were while their mother was emotionally disengaged from them. They moved out of the street the following year and we lost touch with them. I really hope that they managed to find their feet as a family and that the mother was able to get the support from her family that the move was intended to provide.

  One always assumes that one knows someone based on so little, just a few simple facts and figures with a sprinkling of gossip. But one never knows what goes on behind closed doors. We use facts and figures to separate people but then life brings them back together. I think about the young mother and the old lady up together in the night due to a shared situation of no sleep. I realise how we all share struggles in life and that we are not so different from how we like to think we are. If only we could recognise these similarities rather than focusing on the differences.

  As the sun slowly starts to come up in the sky, and the birds stretch sleepy wings and sing to their families and neighbours to welcome them to the new day, I think about how I have allowed myself to remain separate from people, and how I never valued relationships with others perhaps as much as I should have. As I walk back up the side path and towards the street, I know who I want to visit next and I turn towards my best friend Harold’s house.

  Chapter 3

  The Best Friend

  I’ve known Harold for as long as I can remember. We met when we were in Boy Scouts together and fast became firm friends. We certainly had our ups and downs, and finding that Harold was slightly too competitive for my taste, I drifted away from him during our teenage years. But when university rolled around, we found ourselves enjoying a firm friendship once again, one that lasted the rest of our lives.

  Male friendships are funny things. They are certainly not like the kinds of friendships I saw my wife share with her close group. From the day we are born, men are supposed to compete with each other; compete in sport, compete for the girl, compete for the job. From my experience, male friendships are not based on outpourings of emotions, and always seemed a bit shallow to me. If I can be so bold as to say, I believe that men probably have less true friends than women, but the friendships we do form we tend to value, although we would never admit that to anyone!

  Due to the competitive side of the male nature, I think a true male friendship can only be formed amongst equals, otherwise the alpha male tries to take over, which completely changes the dynamics. While I sampled a few friendships over the years, there was really only one person I was able to maintain a true connection with. The rest I let go of. That one person was Harold. I start to think about him again, and as people now have finished their cups of morning coffee and their rushed breakfasts and are starting to get ready for work, I know that if I hurry I can join Harold on his early morning walk.

  As I head around the corner of the street he still lives on with his wife and two cats (his son left home long ago), I nearly bump into him. He seems to side-step me slightly, although perhaps that was my imagination. I turn around and quickly try to keep up. Harold was diagnosed with diabetes a few years ago, and to his credit he has put in an enormous effort to change his ways. He drastically changed his diet, very quickly losing the belly fat he had been working hard to build up all these years, and he took up walking. I must admit I had a little chuckle to myself the first time I saw him dressed up in his walking gear. He had a sweat band around the top of his forehead, and a towel around his neck, his large glasses bobbing up and down with the rhythm of his walking. His enormous belly was straining against his tracksuit and as he walked he pumped his arms, puffed his cheeks in and out and had such a look of determination on his face that no-one dared laugh at him.

  As I join him now, I admire the restraint he showed after his diagnosis and the man I now see before me. He has lost the sweatband and his clothes aren’t as tight any more, but he still walks with a serious look of steely determination on his face which is quite impressive.

  As our feet pound the pavement my mind starts to wander, and I find myself thinking back to the time he chose to open up to me about his marriage. It took me very much by surprise as that is not the sort of friendship we had, but I suppose that he felt he could trust me after knowing each other practically most of our lives. I had been his best man at his wedding and had known his wife almost as long as he had.

  He asked me to join him at the pub (my least favourite place to be!) saying that he needed my advice, and as he went off to get us some drinks, I wondered what on earth he wanted to talk about. I must admit I felt rather uncomfortable as we never shared our feelings with each other, and I didn’t think I was really cut out to be in such a position! But I sat up straight as Harold came back to our table and decided that I simply had to try my best.

  Harold looked troubled, and as he sat back down at the table, he took a long sip of his beer and then another before he started to speak.

  ‘I’ve met someone else.’ Silence. I simply didn’t know what to say.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ I asked, not quite believing if I had heard correctly.

  Harold’s guilt-ridden eyes met mine and he looked like a small child who had stolen an extra piece of chocolate and been caught.

  I sat there in silence, staring at him, completely inexperienced with a situation such as this.

  ‘Where did you meet her?’ I finally managed to stammer.

  ‘She’s a patient in my dental practice. She has really nice teeth!’ he said, as if this explained everything.

  ‘Does Geraldine know?’ I asked, thinking of his wife.

  ‘No, she doesn’t suspect a thing and I don’t want her to know. Not yet. I just don’t know what to do. I am happy with Geraldine, and we adore our son, but things seem so much fresher when I’m with Marilyn. I seem to be able to forget all my worries when I’m with her.’ He fell silent, forlorn eyes looking deep into his beer. As he drained his glass he stood up and said he was going to get another one. I had barely touched mine, not being much of a beer drinker myself, but it was the drink of choice when two men got together to discuss their feelings, or at least that’s what I’d seen on the television.

  When he sat back down again, I asked Harold what he intended to do.

  ‘That’s just it,’ he said. ‘I don’t know! I love my wife but I am starting to have real feelings for Marilyn. She’s great fun to be around and we have a good laugh together.’

  I built up the courage to ask the question I had been putting off. ‘Have you… you know.’

  ‘Oh goodness no! Not yet. I mean I wouldn’t do that while I’m still married. That would be cheating and I’m certainly not a cheater!’

  As I wrestled with whether I should point out that I thought that having feelings for someone else was still a form of cheating, I looked around the room at the mostly young crowd. There were a few older men sitting at the bar, clearly the regulars, and the rest of the room was filled with the Thursday after-work crowd at one end and the dart players at the other. They all seemed very carefree and oblivious to the weight of the conversation we were having.

  ‘Do you think you will leave Geraldine?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t want to. I love her. We have Benji together, but I just can’t stop thi
nking about Marilyn. I wish that somehow I could bring these two worlds together. Have both women in my life, perhaps we could all eventually live together.’

  ‘Stop!’ I shouted. ‘Listen to what you are saying! You’re a married man! I am sure you are not the first married man to have feelings for another woman, and I am sure you won’t be the last, but you are married and that is fact. You need to sort yourself out with Geraldine first before having anything to do with Marilyn.’ I let out air through my teeth as I sat back in my chair. I took a first proper drink of my beer since this conversation had begun.

  ‘Geraldine thinks Marilyn is quite lovely,’ Harold said indignantly.

  ‘What? Wait, she’s met her?!’ I faltered, barely able to get my words out.

  ‘Well, I may have invited her to dinner recently as she has just moved into the area and didn’t know anyone.’ Harold said in a quiet voice.

  ‘She’s been in your house?!’ I exclaimed, my voice starting to find its strength.

  ‘Yes, but Geraldine doesn’t know anything about my feelings for her. Oh, what have I done!’ Harold looked miserable. I could see that he was completely lost and had no idea which way to go. I didn’t know what to say to him at this point in time as I had no experience of what he was facing, and I also couldn’t really see how he had got himself into this mess in the first place. One thing was for sure though, and that was that he had to make up his mind fast.

  I spoke again. ‘Why don’t you and Geraldine go away for the weekend and we can have Benji with us? It will do you two good to have some time together and for you to think about how you really feel. I advise not seeing Marilyn anymore until you have sorted out your feelings for Geraldine. Think about it.’

  With that, our conversation ended, and I stood up to leave. I thought that Harold would come with me, but he said he was going to stay and finish his beer. He asked me not to say anything to my wife as he didn’t want anything to get back to Geraldine. He knew how trustworthy my wife was so I think it was more that he was ashamed of his situation.

  As I walked out of the pub, I stepped aside to let a woman walk in, and I felt like I knew her. I had a strong suspicion that it was Marilyn but I decided to give Harold the benefit of the doubt.

  The following week Harold called and asked if we could meet again. He said he had been doing a lot of thinking and had come to a decision. We arranged a time and a place and then I nervously put down the phone. I honestly had no idea where his thinking had taken him, and my fear was that his heart was really leading the way and not his head. Marriage can be a tough experience at times, but it shouldn’t be taken lightly, and I feared that Harold was not thinking things through enough. He was not just making decisions for himself; there were three other people directly affected by this situation.

  I walked into the pub to find Harold seated at the same table as last time, two full pints of beer and one empty in front of him on the table.

  ‘I got you a beer,’ he said, getting straight to the point. I took my coat off, placed it over the back of the spare chair next to me and sat down. I picked up the beer with a nervous hand, the glass slipping in my fingers because of the condensation on the outside of it.

  ‘I’m leaving her,’ he said, plain and simple.

  ‘Who? Geraldine or Marilyn?’ I ventured at last.

  ‘Geraldine. It simply won’t work. Every time I am with Geraldine, all I can think about is Marilyn. I see her smiling face everywhere I go. She haunts my dreams and I know I need to be with her.’ He shrugged his shoulders as a way of further explanation, as if to say, ‘What can I do about it? It’s outside of my control.’

  My body fell back into the chair and I let out a whistle. I sat there staring at him for a moment while I gathered my thoughts. I knew I had to tread carefully if I was to salvage any of this situation.

  ‘Does Geraldine know? What about Benji?’ I asked.

  ‘Geraldine knows, Benji doesn’t. We agreed that we will tell him over the weekend when his exams are over. It would be too much for him to take on board right now.’ He took another sip of his beer, a storm of emotions rolling across his face.

  ‘Does Marilyn know?’ I asked. It seemed like a silly question, but the situation was so surreal I didn’t really know how to proceed.

  ‘Yes, of course. She is thrilled! She feels sorry for Benji, and Geraldine of course, but “true love must run its course” as she says.’ He took another sip of his beer, not looking fully convinced of what he was saying.

  What would I have done in that situation? I really don’t know. I would like to take the moral high ground and say that I wouldn’t have let it happen in the first place, but Harold was a good guy, a caring guy, he wasn’t self-centred or callous. He loved his family, but it appeared he simply wasn’t in love with Geraldine anymore. I wonder if that fact had been precipitated by meeting Marilyn or whether he was aware of it all along. But would he ever have left Geraldine if he hadn’t met someone else? Who can say how affairs of the heart really work? I don’t think it is something one can analyse.

  Harold drained his beer and said ‘Geraldine is being amazing about the whole thing. She is obviously upset but she knows my mind is made up. We have agreed that I will move out and she has offered to help me find a flat.’ He fell silent again.

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! How could she be so understanding? Was that a sign of true love or of complete stupidity? The expression ‘If you love someone, set them free’ came to mind but I felt a strong urge to resist its meaning.

  ‘Benji really likes Marilyn and Marilyn is great with kids! We will try to have him alternate weekends.’ He suddenly put his head in his hands, and I thought he would cry. When he lifted his face, he looked utterly exhausted, the internal battle over the last few months finally wearing him down. I had no idea what to say. This level of conversation was out of my experience, and while we had known each other for most of our lives, it wasn’t the sort of conversation we were used to sharing.

  ‘Look, I really don’t know what to say’, I said, honestly. ‘If you need a place to stay for a while, you are always welcome to stay with us, and the offer still stands to take Benji if you two need to discuss matters. I’m sorry that you and Geraldine are separating, and we will ensure we stay friends with both of you, and no hard feelings. I really wish things weren’t this way, but I suppose you have made up your mind and you know which direction you are heading in now. At least there’s that.’ I sighed again, tired and lost in my thoughts.

  ‘You will really like Marilyn, I know you will! She’s a great person, very smart. I know you two will get along really well. We should get together soon so you can get to know her.’ Harold’s face suddenly filled with hope. But I just couldn’t give him the approval he was looking for, not at that moment.

  ‘We’ll see. I think you and Geraldine need to sort things out and you need to help poor Benji through this first. It will be a huge shock for him and you really need to give him time to get used to the idea. Meeting Marilyn as a friend of yours is one thing, but as the woman you are leaving his mother for is quite another.’ I said, surprised by the bitterness in my voice.

  ‘Steady on, I need your support not your judgment!’ Harold stated. I could understand that, but I just didn’t know how to be there for him. I told him I would do my best to support him, but that I too needed time to get used to the situation. My goal was to help him get through the separation from Geraldine, and then we could talk about my meeting Marilyn. I wanted the best for Harold, and for him to be happy, but there were too many hearts being broken.

  A few weeks later we took Benji for the weekend, allowing his parents to get themselves organised. I felt really sorry for the lad, I knew he had a bumpy road ahead of him and that it wouldn’t be easy. We had prepared the children and had tried our best to explain what was happening, as the situation affected them too and we wanted them to be sensitive to Benji’s needs. We had planned lots of activities for the three of them a
s we wanted to take Benji’s mind off things as much as possible.

  Benji’s behaviour was atrocious that weekend; he was rude and moody and really very unpleasant to be around. The children found it very difficult as they normally got on well together, but they ended up doing their best to avoid him. By Sunday, we had changed plans and my wife agreed to spend time just with Benji alone and try to give him the support he clearly needed. None of this was his fault and yet he seemed to have blamed himself. My wife worked hard trying to get him to see that he was still very loved but that sometimes marriages don’t work out. She told him that his parents would always love him, and they would never stop being his parents, but his family had just changed shape, and he needed to allow himself time to get used to it.

  The separation went ahead and Harold moved out. He had hired a van and had asked myself and another friend to help load and unload his things. When we arrived at the flat, I was filled with pity for him. As they had agreed that Geraldine and Benji would remain in the house, there was not much budget for a decent flat and all he could afford was a small, dark and very dingy one. We moved him in and then sat on the old two-seater sofa to have a break and a drink. We saluted his health and his new life with our now-empty water glasses.

  About six months later, Harold rang me. He again said he wanted to see me and could we meet at the pub that evening. His voice sounded strained and I wondered what had happened. When I arrived at the pub, he was sitting at the bar, and he waved me over to him. I climbed onto the bar stool and ordered a sparkling water, and then turned to face Harold.

  ‘It’s not working out,’ he said, defeat written all over his face. ‘I thought she was the love of my life, but I think I’ve made a mistake.’ He fell silent.

  ‘Why? What’s happened?’ I asked, again feeling out of my comfort zone.