A Year of Finding Happiness

by Lisa Hobman

  When I finished speaking, Mallory threw her hands up. ‘So what’s the problem? You got divorced and met Mairi and the rest is history, right?’ The hope in her voice almost crippled me.

  Okay, here comes the final blow. The last nail in the coffin of our fledgling relationship. ‘Mallory… I never got divorced.’

  ‘What?’ She stood quickly and the colour drained from her face.

  ‘We just never got divorced. I didn’t want to speak to her, let alone spend time discussing the finer points of our relationship in front of lawyers. I left her with the rental of the house and all our belongings. I thought that would be the last I would ever see of her. Until…’

  Her eyes widened as realisation dawned. ‘Until she called you this morning asking to see you?’

  ‘Yes. I’m so sorry.’

  Her lip trembled and she briefly closed her eyes. ‘I think you had better go now, Greg.’

  My heart sank. The inevitable had come to pass. Without fighting back, I went to the door and pulled my boots on, trying to focus through blurred vision caused by the tears welling in my eyes. I wasn’t good enough for her. I had far too much emotional baggage, and she had enough of her own to contend with.

  But for one night everything had been perfect. And it was that night I would remember for the rest of my lonely, miserable fucking life. My one night where I felt hope for a wonderful future with a truly amazing woman.

  I closed my eyes, causing a couple of stray tears to escape. The last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of her, but I couldn’t help it. ‘I never told you because I don’t think of her as my wife.’

  She snorted as tears spilled down her cheeks too. ‘No, but she is your wife, regardless. It’s a pretty huge thing to keep from someone you are supposedly in love with, don’t you think? What else haven’t you told me? How many more lies will I uncover? I nearly slept with you! How can I trust you now?’

  She was right again. How could she trust me? I wouldn’t. ‘I don’t love her, Mallory, I love you. I don’t feel anything for her. Not even hate any more. I’m apathetic when it comes to Alice. If I could go back in time and tell you everything, I would.’ I couldn’t rein in my anguish any longer and a strangled sob left my throat.

  My stomach knotted and my heart cracked. ‘The sad thing is that yesterday I had a glimpse of you and me together; the whole nine yards, a proper future. And I loved it. I hope that maybe someday you’ll forgive me for keeping the truth from you. Please don’t move away. Not because of me.’

  I didn’t say goodbye. I hated the word and it was something I never wanted to say again. I’d said it too many times as it was. But I couldn’t say it to Mallory. Instead I turned and left her standing there in her kitchen, sobbing with my shattered heart beneath her feet.

  *

  I called at the pub for Angus and by the way Stella looked at me but kept silent I guessed my pain was visible on my face. I drove home in a daze and eventually walked through my front door and closed it behind me. Sliding down it, I slumped to the floor with my head in my hands. It was over. I was alone. Perhaps I just needed to get used to the fact. My eyes stung and my shoulders shuddered as my sadness and emptiness got the better of me. All I had ever wanted was to make her happy, and instead I’d broken her fragile heart with lies of omission. She would never trust me again; and the physical plain I felt at knowing that rendered me immobile.

  Angus never left my side. He sat beside me and licked my face—sensitive wee soul. I nuzzled his fur, inhaling his familiar doggy smell. After fussing with my canine friend for a while I managed to drag my lead-like body from the floor and went to the kitchen to drown my sorrows.

  *

  Mallory swapped shifts to avoid me for the next week. Stella apologised, but of course it wasn’t her fault. I didn’t go into detail, but I think she must’ve guessed what had happened, seeing as she wasn’t her usual interfering self. Stella liked to fix things but this was one thing that couldn’t be fixed. I saw Mallory briefly when we did our shift changeover, but we were reduced to business transactions only. This barrel needs changing… We need to order more of that, etc. Seeing her always saddened me and continually reminded me of what I’d lost through my own stupidity. But it was better than not seeing her at all. The breakdown of my other relationships had been out of my hands. With this one – if you could even call it a relationship – the onus was completely on me.

  When the For Sale board went up outside Mallory’s house, I went home after my evening shift at the pub and cried myself to sleep like a bloody teenage girl.

  Pathetic.

  But I couldn’t help how I felt. It was a dull, nagging pain that knotted my insides with regret and shame. I knew I’d lost her for good. She’d be moving back to Yorkshire, no doubt, and I’d never see her again.

  Chapter Forty-two

  During early September my unwanted guest arrived. Alice breezed back into my life as if we’d never been apart. She took great delight in hugging me at every given opportunity and linking arms with me any time we stepped out of the front door. I had no fight in me. I was still apathetic to her presence. She was staying at the pub at my request but insisted on cooking me breakfast at home every morning so we could ‘talk’; except her idea of talking consisted mainly of her flirting with and touching me. At first I was so depressed about Mallory and how things had ended that I couldn’t be arsed to argue with her for being in my space, but a week into her visit and I was getting more and more pissed off with her as the days passed.

  Yet another breakfast conversation began with me trying to sort out the important matters. ‘Alice, we need to talk about this divorce.’

  ‘Oh… yes… yes, we do. Anyway, there’s more bacon if you’d like some. Then we could maybe go for a walk.’

  ‘And figure out what we need to do to end our marriage,’ I almost snarled.

  She laughed, shrugging off my comment. ‘Oh, come on, Mr Grumpy. I think you should show me around. Let me see what it is about this place that you love so much.’

  ‘What I love so much is that you live so far away,’ I chuntered loudly enough for her to hear. ‘And the fact that I finally have genuine people around me who don’t stab me in the back.’

  She ignored my direct jab and breezily asked, ‘Should I make more toast?’

  I slid my plate away. Suddenly bereft of appetite. ‘Alice, I don’t want you to come here anymore. Let’s just agree on the divorce proceedings and then we can both move on, eh?’ I was just about at the end of my tether and had lost count of the numerous times in the past week that I had told her I wasn’t interested. What made things worse was that I was angry with myself for allowing her to wheedle her way into my life again so easily.

  I had to get out of the house.

  I grabbed my hoody. ‘I’m going out. I don’t know how long I’ll be.’

  When I said I was going for a walk, you’d have thought I’d asked her to renew our vows. The excitement on her face pissed me off. ‘Yes! Just what I wanted to do. Lovely. I’ll grab my jacket.’

  I had meant to just take Angus. But of course that wasn’t an option. Alice didn’t seem to understand the concept of no. She never had.

  She skipped down the driveway like a giddy teenager, her arm linked in mine as my daft dog trotted back and forth before us, but I stayed silent and uninterested. Whatever I said she ignored, so I resigned myself to the fact that arguing with her was futile. I hadn’t the energy for it. As we approached the village I told her I wanted to call into the pub and speak to Stella about my shifts and maybe doing some more gigs.

  But as the bridge came into sight my heart almost stopped. Mallory was there with Ruby in her favourite spot. The little dog’s tail wagged frantically when she spotted us. Mallory, on the other hand, was staring at us with a furrowed brow. I guessed she was wondering why I was walking along with the blonde woman who was staying at the pub.

  As we approached her I was taken aback by how beautiful she looked. But then
she always did. Even way back when we first met and she was inadvertently doing her Gene Simmons impersonation. The memory of our early encounter made me smile.

  I swallowed hard but didn’t clear my throat and so my voice came out croaky. ‘Hi, Mallory.’

  ‘Greg.’ Her fake smile was brief.

  Oh great, I’m going to have to introduce them. ‘Mallory… erm… this is Alice, Alice this is Mallory.’

  Mallory’s eyes widened in horror and I felt sick.

  Alice chimed in, ‘Hi, Mallory, I’ve heard a lot about you.’ The lies fell easily from her lips as she held out her hand. I hadn’t told her anything. She was just good at reading people. And it was probably obvious who Mallory was by our reaction to each other.

  ‘I’m sure you have,’ Mallory replied with an acidic tone as she extracted her hand.

  ‘We were just taking a walk, you know, clearing the cobwebs,’ I told her.

  I could see sadness in her eyes as she stepped away. ‘Lovely. Well, enjoy yourselves. I need to get going.’ She dashed away, taking my heart with her.

  Once she’d gone I turned to Alice. ‘Look, I’m going to wait for Mallory. She and I need to talk.’

  Alice folded her arms across her chest and scowled. ‘I think our talk is more important than the one you want to have with your bit on the side.’

  Her snide comment made my blood boil and I gritted my teeth. ‘Don’t ever call her that again. You and I are married on paper only. And the sooner you realise that, the better.’

  She huffed and stormed off, which was a relief as it gave me the opportunity to speak to Mallory alone. I knew she’d have to walk by me when she left the shop so I plonked myself down at one of the tables outside the pub and waited.

  A few minutes later and she appeared. My heart began to race. ‘Mallory, can you talk?’

  With evident reluctance she sat down opposite me and there began a very awkward and strained conversation. She was angry; it was clear by her harsh tone of voice, folded arms and furrowed brow. I had done this to her.

  But after a few moments of trying to be pleasant, her attitude got to me. ‘Why do you have to be so hostile, Mallory? Nothing has changed for me. I wish you’d realise that.’

  ‘It’s of no consequence to me how you feel. How is your wife liking it here?’

  Ouch. That was meant to sting and it really did. ‘Okay, we’re being like that, are we? She’s just here to finalise things. That’s all. And I really thought we had something a little more mature, Mallory. I thought there were feelings on both sides of this. Clearly I was wrong.’ And it was apparent she wasn’t prepared to forgive and forget. But what did I really expect her to do?

  She cocked her head to one side and snarled at me. ‘Greg, you’re married. You kept that fact from me just as I was about to give myself to you. Whilst I was still grieving for the real love of my life. Excuse me if I’m a little indignant.’

  Okay, I deserved that too. ‘Can we at least be civil? Or maybe even friends? We got along so well, Mallory. Don’t you miss that? I know I do.’

  ‘It’s irrelevant. I can’t trust you. How can we possibly be friends?’

  ‘Okay, well, it was worth a try.’ At that point I felt the familiar, physical pain return to my stomach and my chest. I looked down at the table; the three feet of gnarled and splintered wood that created an impenetrable barrier between us might as well have been three miles. The scars on its surface evidence of the battering it had taken, just like the invisible but ever-present scars on mine and Mallory’s relationship.

  I longed to reach out and touch her but clenched my fists instead. ‘Will you do me one thing? Will you tell me if you do sell the house? I would at least like a chance to say goodbye.’

  She stood from the table and I gazed up at her. But she returned my gaze with regret in her eyes. ‘Greg, we said goodbye that day in August.’ And with that final nail in the coffin, she walked away from me.

  *

  When I returned home Alice was waiting, arms folded. I heaved a defeated sigh. ‘Look, Alice, I’m not in the mood to fight, okay? I’m playing tonight and I want to run through a couple of songs before I go in, so can we… just… not?’

  Her eyes softened and she walked towards me. Stopping a couple of steps away, she reached out and stroked my arm. ‘It didn’t go well, then?’

  ‘That’s a fucking understatement. The fact that I told her I’m in love with her and then the morning after finished things off with, “Oh, and by the way, I forgot to mention that I’m still married” was the fucking final straw. I can’t blame her. Can you?’

  She closed the gap between us and slipped her arms around my neck. ‘She doesn’t deserve you, Greg.’ Her voice was a soft whisper filled with longing.

  ‘And you do?’ I asked incredulously as I grasped her wrists firmly and removed her arms from my body. Shock registered on her face at my actions, and so, to further drive my point home, I moved my hands to the tops of her arms and physically removed her from my path.

  I took the stairs two at a time, entered my bedroom, and slammed the door behind me. Grabbing Rhiannon from the stand, I walked over and sat on the edge of my bed.

  Music. I needed music.

  *

  Later that evening I arrived at the pub to prepare for my gig. Alice had followed me like some lost puppy dog and pulled a chair up beside me as I checked the tuning on my guitar. She began to talk to me about people she was still in contact with back home – people that I knew too. It was nice to hear about old friends, I suppose, but that was as far as it went. I had no interest in keeping in contact with anyone from my past. Least of all Alice. We were over. She needed to understand that. I’d tried the softly, softly approach but I was really going to have to get nasty if she didn’t piss off soon.

  Mallory had arrived and gone straight behind the bar without even saying hello. Alice leaned in and whispered, ‘Greg, that Melanie is staring at us.’

  I glanced over and then hissed at Alice, ‘Her name is Mallory.’ As I finished speaking, the glass Mallory was drying slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. Before Alice could protest I was beside Mallory. ‘Hey, are you okay?’

  She huffed. ‘Greg, it’s just broken glass. I’m fine.’

  I grabbed the dustpan and brush from on top of the dishwasher. ‘Let me help you.’

  She snatched them from my hands. ‘Greg, just go. You’re supposed to be singing, aren’t you?’ It was clear my presence wasn’t appreciated.

  ‘Look, I’ve said sorry about everything. What else am I meant to do?’ I asked in exasperation.

  ‘Nothing. There is nothing you can do. Just go!’ She was on the verge of angry tears and so I stepped away with a heavy heart and left her to it.

  When the time came I took my usual position, ready to play. The pub was crowded and I was aware that many people had come out especially to see me, which was a bit surreal to be honest. Greeting the patrons as I always did, I reminded them that singing along wasn’t appreciated; but this time I didn’t feel the humour in the comment. I continued on with my introduction. Having chosen the first song specifically for the most important person in the room, I hoped she listened to the words as she had done when I sent her the CD. I desperately wanted her to understand how I felt.

  ‘I know you all are gradually discovering how eclectic ma taste in music is. Well, just to prove the point even further, I’m going to kick off with a little bit of Chicago. The band, not the musical.’ I managed a chuckle and the crowd laughed along. ‘This is a beautiful song called “Hard to Say I’m Sorry”.’

  I began to sing with my eyes closed and tried very hard to rein my emotions in, but even I could hear the rawness of my voice. Opening my eyes, I fixed them on Mallory behind the bar and willed her with all my might to look at me. To see me as she said she did before, when we came so close. But she completely avoided my gaze and eventually, just after the middle of the song, she walked out of the bar towards the ladies’ toilet
s.

  When my song finished she still wasn’t back. I leaned down to take a swig of my drink in the hope that it would dislodge the lump of knotted sadness from my throat. When she appeared again I could see that she’d been crying. I wanted to hold her in my arms and kiss her tears away. But it wasn’t an option.

  Alice appeared beside me and kissed the top of my head before I could dodge her. I flinched and my train of vision settled on Stella at the bar— Shit, she’d seen her kiss me. I hoped Mallory hadn’t noticed, as I didn’t want her getting the wrong impression regardless of what she felt about me.

  ‘Anyway, onto my next number… ahem… Now unrequited love is a bitch, eh? I know, I’ve been there – anyone else?’ A rumble of agreement travelled the room. Clearly I was not alone then. ‘Aye, some of you should relate well to this next one. It’s by one of my favourite bands, Fleetwood Mac and it’s called “Go Your Own Way”. Oh, and remember, don’t sing along, eh?’ The audience laughed at the catchphrase I’d become known for. I forced a smile before I began.

  I played the song with a semblance of anger even though I was breaking up inside, and I glared over at Mallory, willing her to look at me. But as before she kept her eyes firmly focused elsewhere.

  My next song was bound to get a reaction. Or so I hoped. But I realised that maybe this was all a very self-centred night. The audience hadn’t come to hear me pouring my heart out to someone who didn’t want to listen. But I thought, fuck it, I’m the one with the microphone. They can leave if they don’t like it.

  Realising that my selfish attitude could end up in Stella losing paying customers, I decided to make a token apology to the crowd. ‘Sorry, folks, it’s all a bit melancholy tonight. I’m feeling that way out. Must be my hormones. Anyway, this next one is a sad, sad song by a wonderful songwriter called John Waite. It’s about a guy who’s in love with a girl. She left him and moved away. He really doesn’t know why she’s gone and he misses her desperately, but he’s trying to convince himself that he isn’t… He’s failing miserably. She’s all he can think about. She’s all he sees. He wants her to realise and come back to him… It’s called “Missing You”.’