Page 44 of For One Moment With You
‘Hi.’ I tried not to notice my heart plummeting. ‘Is Adam home?’
The guy frowned. ‘Adam? I think you’ve got the wrong place.’
He went to shut the door but I pushed a hand against it. ‘But he lived here – about three months ago.’ I was about to go on, to tell him about the windowsill of miniature cactus plants, about Adam’s beautiful eyes. But I stopped myself.
The guy gave me a strange look. ‘You mean that journalist guy? He left a couple of months back. I can’t tell you where he went, I’m afraid. He didn’t leave a forwarding address.’ He paused, as if he was going to say something else, then thought better of it. ‘Would you excuse me?’
I stood there as he closed the door, a feeling of powerlessness descending over me. Quite what I’d been hoping for by going there, I couldn’t put into words. All I did know, with certainty, was I hadn’t found it.
On the way back to the flat, I stopped in the park and sat on a bench under a tree. Around me, the dark greens of late summer had turned to shades of gold, a scattering of leaves on the grass. I felt the coolness of a breeze that heralded the change of the season, as in the strangest way, it was as though I could sense it.Adam had gone.I didn’t know when or where. And I knew I shouldn’t have cared. But all I could feel was this well of emptiness.
It’s one of the saddest things in life to never have tried; to not know how things might have turned out, had the timing been different, had they been given a chance. I told myself that Adam and I were simply not meant to be, and this time I had to believe it. I allowed myself to wallow in the sadness I felt, completely forgetting that had I been open to a future with him, Adam most likely would have been there for me. But as I made it very clear at the time, I hadn’t been.
Anyway, it was just as well. I was pregnant, wasn’t I? My future lay with Gareth, I reminded myself as I walked away, back to the flat. We were going to be a family.
* * *
Immersed in those early years of motherhood, I never imagined them ending. That my chubby, tousled-haired little warriors would go to school, make friends, join football teams. Grow into teenagers, battle an adolescent self-consciousness neither of them had had before. Learn to drive; go to uni.
But we don’t, do we? I mean, motherhood is a whirlwind there’s no stepping out of. And why would I have? Being a mother was the best thing that ever happened to me.
In all this, it’s fair to say that Gareth’s part was, well, just that. A part. A smallish one, which extended to kicking a ball around the garden when he was in the mood. He wasn’t a bad father. He just wasn’t a particularly engaged one, his strengths peaking as the boys got older, amounting to helping Robbie put up shelves in his bedroom or showing Alex how to fix a puncture.
In short, Gareth’s emotional disconnect extended to his children. Never was it more apparent than during one of the few parent–teacher evenings at school he came with me to.
‘Why is Alex studying art?’ He seemed mystified.
‘Alex is creative,’ I said as though explaining to a stupid person. ‘He loves it and he’s really good at it.’
‘Waste of time,’ Gareth said dismissively. ‘I’m going to have a word with him about it.’
‘Please don’t.’ I stared at my husband. ‘It’s important to him. In any case, you have no idea what Alex is interested in.’
‘Rubbish. He’s my son. Of course I do.’ He frowned. ‘You can’t stop me, Tilly. I’m his father, and this is important.’
‘I know it is,’ I said wearily. ‘But Alex is fifteen. It’s his life.’ I wanted to explain to him that he couldn’t maintain the distance he kept and expect the boys to suddenly take notice of him. But I gave up. The more I battled Gareth, the harder he fought back – and in this case, I knew it would be Alex who got the brunt of that.
There were other, similar episodes with the boys when Gareth was compelled to express his opinions. Opinions that were uninformed, because most of the time, he took no interest in them.
* * *
It was in the midst of the boys’ teenage years that I reached another crisis point. Not because anything major had happened. It hadn’t. It was more the weight of the years passing, the loneliness I felt in my marriage.
I remember talking to Elena about it, trying to describe the emptiness I was feeling. My dilemma, that the boys needed both their parents. It wasn’t as though anything had changed. It was more like my soul was deeply weary. And that was when the Universe stepped in.
I’d gone into town to pick up something for one of the boys when totally unexpectedly and out of the blue, I bumped into Adam – coincidentally not far from the bar where I had my hen night.
‘Oh.’ My heart missed a beat. As I stared into his eyes, I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t believe it was him. ‘Hi.’
‘Tilly.’ He gazed at me. ‘What a surprise.’ His face crinkled as he smiled. ‘You look great. I mean, it’s great to see you. How are you?’
‘It’s great to see you too.’ I felt warm, deep inside. Alive, too, in a way I wasn’t used to. ‘I’m good. How are you?’
‘Good.’ Still smiling, he was as gorgeous as ever. ‘How’s Gareth?’
I was taken aback; astonished that after all these years, he’d remembered Gareth’s name. ‘He’s OK.’ My warmth dimmed, but then it was back. ‘We have two sons. Twins. They’re fifteen – swotting for exams and growing up.’
‘So he got over it,’ Adam said quietly. ‘The children thing.’
