“LOVED OUT, HURT OUT”
“Didnt they tell you as a child that you cant build happiness on someone elses misery?” Emily gave me a faintly reproachful glance.
“They did. Read about it in books, too. But back then, I didnt need it. And honestly, in carefree childhood, do you even grasp what they mean? Whats happiness? Whats misery? How can you build this vague ‘happiness’ on someone elses suffering? As a kid, you dream of other thingsmore sweets, more ice cream. Cartoons, cinema trips, not missing out”
Truth be told, all my aunts and uncles were on their second or third marriages. Where was I supposed to learn morality?
Emilymy ever-principled, incorruptible friendnever judged me. Over a glass of wine, shed listen, amused, to my tangled love stories. She couldnt afford such recklessness herself. A lecturer at the university, her position demanded decorum.
Her own marriage was steady, unshakable. In their youth, her husband, William, had been fond of Bacchusrowdy, unfaithful. Shed had him coded for good. Now, at gatherings, hed grumble about needing to unwind. Emily would reply coolly, “Will, if you cant behave, dont bother trying.”
Hed fall silent. Over time, he took pride in pouring drinks, monitoring consumption, passing around snacks. Occasionally, Emily dragged him to Spain or Italy. Even there, he misbehaved.
“Imagine,” she fumed after Barcelona, “while I was swimming, this mutt cozied up at the bar with some quick-witted tart. All smiles, cocktails. Her eyes begging for him. Oh, I thought, just wait till were backyoull get whats coming!”
“Bet he denied everything?” I grinned.
“Of course! Said I was imagining things.” Emily scoffed.
“And you?”
“Let him dream. Wheres he going? Whod want him with his pitiful salary? Even if some lonely widow scooped him up, shed toss him out in a month. Nothing to him but that lustful glint in his eye.” She reassured herself.
When James entered my married life, something twisted inside me. Married, two sons. I fought the tide of feeling, but it crashed over mea love like falling off a cliff.
Conscience whispered fiercely: *Stop. Dont grab the hot iron. Nothing good comes of slippery schemes. Youve a family. Why a married man? Youll drown in regret.*
But I charged ahead, blind. A day without James was unbearable. We sank into each other, love a knife at our throatsno escape.
Barriers crumbled. Left alone with ruinous passion, we spun in circles.
Six months in, we had nothing in common. Yet we clung to the ghost of love. I resuscitated it, again and again.
James drank relentlessly, lied boldly, even raised his hand. Worlds apart, we were. I threw him out, took the keys, cut his phone, gave him silence. Hed vanisha week, a monththen return with flowers and burning desire.
I took him back, aching with love, unable to erase him. I shouldve. He drained me, hollowed my soul, crushed me underfoot. Desperate, I plunged into another mans armsto wound him back. Why suffer alone?
Once, after another “forever” fight, James vanished. I called an old admirer. Some women keep spares.
Victor was his oppositecalm, polite, sober. At first, I liked him. A month in, boredom set in. No fire, just flatline. I missed the chaos, the rollercoaster. Regret came swift. Not my type. He called for ages before finally fading.
Alone, I breathed freely. Wanted no one, tired of the carousel. A month passed in proud solitude.
Then James asked to meet. I ran, stumbling. Still loving, still hoping.
“Claire, lets end this. Well destroy each other. This fires unbearable.” He wouldnt meet my eyes.
“Alright. Youre right. Were balancing on a razors edge.” My heart collapsed, but I held steady.
We walked opposite ways. For three days.
A knock. James at the doorchampagne, flowers, burning gaze.
The night blazed. Our bodies tangled, soaring, suffocating in love.
I knew morning would bring nothing. Last night was too perfect, too sweet, too much.
Turned out, past torment was nothing. James confessed a crushing debtgambling. Dangerous men. Pay or suffer.
We sold his flat, his car paid it off. And just like that, my passion died. The debt was the last straw.
Now? Indifference. We driftfriends, distant kin. Laugh, talk, separate blankets. Nothing stirs. Ive drunk the bitter cup dry. Happiness unbuilt.
Loved out, hurt out.
