Eleanor lay in the cooling water, unable to summon the strength to rise from the bathtub. I should have left ages ago, she whispered for the thousandth time, as if pleading with herself or convincing someone else. She knew several texts had pinged her phone, but she refused to open themshe already knew what she would see.
Her story with George had always been a rollercoaster. Theyd met at a music festival in Brighton, and shed invited him back to her flat for the night, never intending to see him again. The next morning, she found him waiting outside the block, a bunch of daisies in his hand, and she realised she was already ensnared.
She then spent a year on an internship in Berlin, while George stayed behind, writing her long letters. When her flight home was delayed by five hours, George met her at Heathrow, pale with a mix of nerves and fatigue, his hands still clutching the same daisy bouquet. In that moment she understood she wanted a family with him.
She returned to work five months after giving birth, while George sat at home with their infant because he couldnt find a job. Every half hour he called, asking where everything was and when shed be back. At the office her colleagues cooed over the sight of a man with a baby, but Eleanor had no time for sympathy. After work she juggled a toddler in her arms, cooked dinner, washed, cleaned, and then pulled an allnight shift.
She borrowed money to buy her daughter a bicycle, patch the roof of their countryside cottagea wedding giftpay the car loan theyd taken out so George could do odd jobs, and keep the house afloat. Eleanor was a junior research assistant earning a modest £28,000 a year; advancement seemed out of reach, whether from lack of talent or simply no time.
Years passed. She bore a second child and, six months later, went back to work, this time leaving their son with his mother. By then George had scraped together a shaky job driving kids to school, taking out loans for a new winter coat for his son, paying for his daughters swimming lessons, boiling soups, and changing the water in the vase of daisies.
George drifted between occasional work and endless television, but most of his days were spent drinking. In the ninth year of their marriage, an appendicitis scare landed him in the hospital. The surgeon, after a careful exam, suggested a stay in a rehabilitation clinichis blood seemed to contain more alcohol than red cells.
Eleanor rehearsed a hundred times on the walk home, the words we need to live apart and lets get a divorce looping in her mind. His face, his scent, his touch all grew repulsive. The cottage roof rotted again, but she no longer cared to fix it. They stopped visiting the countryside, and the daisies wilted quickly because she kept forgetting to change the water.
She fell for another man and cheated on George. She couldnt fault him; he still looked at her with the same yearning eyes hed had at the airport, as if fearing shed never return. She craved completely different eyes. It doesnt mean anything, she told herself, but it meant one thingshed needed to leave for a long time. Not for the loverhe was married too.
One night she caught herself wondering how many years shed get before parole if she ever committed murder. That was the final straw. She packed the childrens clothes, the suitcases, and moved into her mothers house. George sobbed, pleading dont go. Eleanor stayed silent, tears streaming down her cheeks, feeling lighter than she ever had before.
Finally, she rose from the lukewarm water, slipped on a plush bathrobe, and fished her phone from the pocket. It was only a matter of time before she read the messages. After a barrage of I love you, come back, call me, and dont leave, Georges last text read, Then Ill go. That was the final line.
