Emily lay in the cooling tub, too exhausted to pull herself up. Ive been meaning to leave for ages, she muttered for the umpteenth time, as if trying to convince herself or someone else. She could hear a few missed calls and messages buzzing on her phone, but she didnt want to open themshe knew what shed find.
Her saga with Mark had always been a bit of a rollercoaster. Theyd met at a music festival, and shed invited him back to her flat for a night, never intending to see him again. The next morning she spotted him on the pavement outside, clutching a bunch of daisies, and thought, Well, thats a problem.
Emily then jetted off for a years placement in Berlin, while Mark stayed put, sending her long, handwritten letters. When she finally flew back, her flight was delayed by five hours. Mark met her at the terminal, looking halfpale with nerves and fatigue, a fresh bouquet of daisies in hand, and suddenly she realised she wanted a family with him.
She returned to work five months after giving birth, while Mark was at home with their little one because he hadnt landed a job yet. Every half hour he called to ask where everything was and whether shed be home soon. Colleagues cooed over the sight of a dad with a baby, but Emily was too busy juggling the child, cooking, washing, tidying, and pulling allnighters to feel cute about it.
She borrowed money to buy her daughter a bike, fix the leaky roof on their country cottage (a wedding gift, mind you), pay off the car loan theyd taken out so Mark could earn a few quid driving a taxi, and keep everything afloat. Emily was a junior research associate on a modest salary; climbing any higher felt like trying to sprint up a greased ladderperhaps she lacked the knack, or perhaps time was simply never on her side.
Years slipped by. The second baby arrived, and after six months Emily went back to work, this time leaving the son with his grandmother. By then Mark had scraped together odd jobsshuttling kids to nursery, a few bits of freelance work, borrowing more cash for a new winter coat for his son, paying for the daughters swimming lessons, simmering soups, and changing the water in the vase of daisies.
Marks work schedule was spotty; he spent more time watching telly and nursing a drink than actually earning. When, in their ninth year together, he was rushed to hospital with appendicitis, the doctor gently suggested a rehab clinic. Apparently his bloodstream contained more booze than red blood cells.
Emily rehearsed a speech on the way home, We need a break and Lets get a divorce, a hundred times. She grew sick of his look, his smell, his touch. The cottage roof rotted again, but she had zero enthusiasm for repairs. They stopped going to the cottage altogether, and the daisies wilted quickly because she kept forgetting to change the water.
Then she fell for someone else and cheated on Mark. She couldnt blame Markhe still looked at her with those same eyes hed had at the airport, as if terrified shed never return. She craved a fresh pair of eyes. It doesnt mean anything, she told herself, yet it meant one thing: shed been meaning to leave for ages. The lover, however, was already married.
One day Emily caught herself wondering how many years shed have to serve if she actually committed murder. That was the last straw. She packed the kids, grabbed the suitcases, and moved in with her mum. Mark sobbed, pleading, Dont go. Emily stayed silent, tears streaming down her cheeks. For the first time she felt strangely light.
Finally, she climbed out of the lukewarm water, wrapped a fluffy robe around herself, and fished her phone from her pocket. Sooner or later shed have to read those messages, she thought. After a barrage of I love you, Come back, Call me, and Dont leave, Mark typed, Then Ill go. That was the final message.
