Dear Diary,
Today the morning felt like a scene from a bad sitcom. I was hurrying home, bags of groceries clattering on the curb, when I heard James yelling my name from across the road.
Emily! he shouted, his voice carrying over the traffic.
I let out a tired sigh, set the bags down, and stared at his old hatchback parked opposite. I sucked in a breath, cheeks pinching, and dropped my head. How weary I feel of this endless cycle. James bolted toward me, nearly tripping, clearly eager to be of help.
Hey, Em, he said, grabbing the bags. Hi there.
Hello, I replied, barely managing a smile.
He tried to sound casual. I was just passing by, saw you with those heavy sacks and thought Id lend a hand. He flashed a silly grin. Come on, lets get you home.
Youre not exactly passing by, I snapped. You live on Glassford Road, not in this suburb
James had already turned toward his car, two bags in his hands.
I was giving a mate a lift from work, and then I saw you couldt just drive past, he shrugged. Ill take you the rest of the way.
It’s only about a quartermile, I said.
No problem, Ill carry the heavy stuff. Hows Charlie, your son?
Will be great when he picks me up this weekend. You both chat every day, dont you? I followed him, more out of habit than desire. Why do you keep asking about me?
Just curious, James answered, opening the passenger door for his exwife.
Im sitting in the back, I warned.
Dont, its a mess back there, he warned.
I lifted the rear door, peeked inside a jumble of shopping bags, a halfempty coffee mug, a stray shoe. So much clutter.
See? You never trust me I muttered.
Eventually I settled into the front seat. James stowed the groceries in the boot and gave me a pleased grin, as if Id just won a prize. I turned my gaze to the familiar streets passing by the window.
You look fine, as always, he remarked.
Just get me home, James. I still have dinner to finish, I snapped, irritation flaring.
Yes, yes! He turned the key, and the engine roared to life. Ive just started a new job, paperwork for a shift pattern, he said, trying to make conversation as I stared out, detached. Did Charlie say you moved out of his mums house?
She didnt move an inch. Shes been three years away from me, I said, flat.
Emily, stop playing hideandseek! Why do I always have to pick up our son from her? Are you hiding your address? Let me drop you home.
No thanks, I brushed the side of my jacket. I bought groceries for my mum.
Ill give them back and drive you home, he pleaded.
We stopped in front of the block.
What did he say? I told him no. Do you two still get along?
Yes, I said, trying not to let the anger show.
What the devil do you want from me? I snapped, finally losing restraint.
Emily, were not strangers we have a son, James tried to take my hand. I withdrew my own, pulling it into my coat pocket with clear disgust.
Enough, James! How many random visits can I take? Stop calling my mum, begging for forgiveness it wont change anything! We left her because you drove us mad! Im on the verge of a nervous breakdown, everyone keeps saying youre sorry, how you miss us, that you want the family back.
And Charlie? Why are you pushing him? Hes just getting used to seeing his dad on weekends, and you tell him well reconcile, send my greetings, ask when Ill be home, where Im at.
Im worried, James said.
Me too about our son! How many times can you keep feeding him this narrative? Stop using him to pressure me! I shouted, feeling my pulse race.
I slipped out of the car, slammed the door, and tried to yank the bags out of the boot, but the lock was jammed. I tugged at the lid, growing frantic, desperate to be rid of James. My mothers eyes, though hidden behind blinds, seemed to follow me.
James finally opened the boot and carried the bags to the foot of the stairs, but I stopped him.
No, Ill do it myself, I told him sharply.
Emily, understand that I still love you! Id give up everything for you and Charlie. Should I quit the shift work? Return to my old job? Lets get you a car! Why walk home? It would be easier for you and Charlie, you could pick him up from karate.
No, I snapped, snatching the bags from his hands. I actually wish youd go far away, find a woman you truly love, live happily, and leave me alone.
Emily, forgive me. It was a oneoff, she meant nothing to me! I still curse myself, he pleaded.
I forgave you long ago, James. Ive moved on, but you wont let me go.
I cant! Life without you feels unbearable, he shouted as I climbed the stairs.
James, stop the theatrics, I heard him call back, Ive forgiven you, but I cant love you again.
The door on the second floor slammed shut and everything fell quiet. James clenched his fists, walked back to his car, and stared at the windows of his former motherinlaws flat. How foolish he was to trade a family for a fleeting flingwell, perhaps just one, but hed bragged about it as if hed never been caught. After the divorce, a year alone taught him there was no one better than his exwife, Mary, and his son, Charlie.
Wed met at school; shed transferred into our year and eclipsed every other girl. Id only ever had eyes for her. Summer holidays came, my heart cooled, and I left for my grandmothers house, where I met someone else who seemed to outshine the sun. By the first day of term, Emily no longer stirred my thoughts. We stayed friends, drifted apart for five years while studying elsewhere, then remet in the same social circle as adults. Emily earned a firstclass degree, landed her first job, returned to her hometown, and started at the factory where her mother worked. I, meanwhile, kept chasing my own ventures, never quite finding my footing, until I finally settled into a plant jobthough my ambitions still gnawed at me.
Everything changed when Emily told me she was pregnant. I panicked, grabbed her, introduced her to my parents, married her, welcomed Charlie, bought a house with a mortgage that my parents helped pay off early. Summers were spent at the seaside, birthdays, christenings, weekend trips, family anniversaries. I grew restless, but Emily disappeared into the rhythm of home life and caring for our little boy. The inlaws adored Charlie and Emily; my motherinlaw respected me.
When Charlie grew older, Emily returned to work. I yearned for recognition, grew tired of routine, but the career ladder seemed endlessfive or six rungs up and I was still stuck. I made new friends, switched jobs, but nothing fit. Then an old colleague from my first job reappeared, offering me a department head role in exchange for questionable favours. The arrangement collapsed, and I was left feeling empty again.
Emily thought I was just burnt out, so she urged me to take a break, suggesting I could even bring Charlie with me. Reluctantly, I agreed to spend a few days fishing with a mate in Norwich, a place Id never been. We never even got there; my friends wife sent me photos of a pleasant evening with other friends, asking me to keep the dog on a short leash. I packed my things, Charlie, and left for my mothers house.
When James called, asking where I was, I sent him a nasty picture from his fishing trip. He rushed over, only to find the door shut, my motherinlaw glaring at him. He decided to give me space, but instead received a divorce summons. I fought it, delayed the process, tried to get him to apologise, but eventually the divorce went through.
A year later, I saw James trying hard to be a good fatherpaying alimony, calling Charlie every weekend, even getting my motherinlaw on his side again. My mother kept urging me to forgive him, saying hed changed. I forgave him in my heart, but the trust was gone. The wounds had scarred, leaving only cold memories.
We finally cut ties.
Mum, why are you pestering him? I asked as she entered the kitchen, clutching the grocery bags.
Whos pestering who? she replied, glancing at the empty chair where Charlie should have been. Has he not shown up from school?
No. I sighed. Hes driving me mad. I wish hed be out on a shift in a faroff town. He haunts me, and I cant imagine starting any relationship when I dont know what James will do.
My mother set about making tea, the house smelling of fresh biscuits.
Emily, you cant keep doing this. You have a son, she said, avoiding my eyes.
How can I? How do you share a bed, a flat, when he feels like a stranger? My messages to that woman, the court dateshow do I live with a man I no longer feel for?
Then why give him hope, why keep in touch? she pressed, as I poured the tea.
Its him! He wont let me go. He jumped at our IT guy last month, I smiled at him, flirted a bit, and now he wants forgiveness What am I supposed to forgive? Hes not my husband any more.
He wont let you go, you need someone else, my mother said calmly. Men like James cant handle betrayal.
What? I laughed bitterly. Which betrayal? Weve been divorced three years. Hes nobody.
He cant release you.
Its true, hes a pest! I shouted.
James kept calling the office, leaving messages for our son, trying to arrange a meeting. He never got a reply from my motherinlaw. One morning he met us at school, his face hopeful.
Emily, Im leaving he said.
Good luck, I replied.
Charlie, dad is heading off far, but not for long, James said, looking at me. Anything to say?
Charlie tugged at my sleeve; his lesson started, he couldnt be late.
Ive said everything. I hope the change improves your life, I said.
Dont count on it, I wont abandon you! James shouted from the car, his voice echoing onto the road.
It amused me, his desperate promises. He would never truly forgive himself.
For three months I walked the streets of York without the fear of a random encounter. I met a friend for coffee, later bumped into an old schoolmate who tried to convince me to give James another chance. I realized shed been through her own divorce, tolerated her exs foolishness, and even hidden his secretsher own drama with a man named Chris, who talked about sharing champagne and new beginnings. She joked about the endless calls from James, about a man who kept inviting her after work.
I eventually crossed paths with Simon at a café. We chatted, exchanged numbers, and started texting. My phone buzzed with his messages, while Jamess attempts faded into the background. I was back to a normal rhythm, juggling work, home, and the occasional laugh with Simon.
Hey, Charlie, hows school? I asked later, watching him with his lunchbox.
Its fine, dad. Got a five on the Russian test! he beamed.
Great, I replied, hearing Jamess voice from an old voicemail, Can you get Mom to answer the phone? Shes got guestsUncle Simon.
What uncle? I muttered, thinking of the weirdness of it all.
In the end, Im learning to live without the constant drama, to trust that life can be simple: a good cup of tea, a quiet evening, and the knowledge that Ive finally let go of the man who once thought a fleeting affair could replace a family. The diary, my confidante, now holds only my own thoughts, free from his endless random visits.
