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| A Christmas Story | |
| By Bambam | ||||||||||||
| 02 December 2007 | ||||||||||||
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Just a daydream - unashamedly romantic for the time of year! :-) I was looking forward to the New Year. I hadn’t had such a lousy year for ages. It had even been worse than the year my marriage ended, that had been a minor inconvenience compared to half my domestic appliances breaking down on me – my 2 year old freezer died, the washing machine overflowed, the boiler broke down, internet fraud lost me £1,000 from my bank account, and the ugly face of office politics at work. But the worst thing of all, what had almost wrecked me, was the end of a relationship with the best man I’d ever known. It was Christmas Eve now. The thought of spending this holiday alone after last year being the best Christmas I’ve ever had wasn’t an appealing one. I tried to join in with the festivities at work and with my friends, tried not to show that anything was wrong. No-one had known about me and him so no-one was being sympathetic now it was over. All my family were hundreds of miles away so I was going to be able to do exactly what I wanted until returning to work after the New Year. The only definite thing I had planned was attending the Christmas Eve 11.30 service. That had become a personal tradition since my divorce – a new way of celebrating Christmas for myself, which I had come to enjoy with friends, exchanging presents once the service was over in the early hours of Christmas Day. He’d been there too last year, not sitting with me but we’d had a word after the service. We’d been discreet and no-one had guessed anything had gone on between us, but because of the occasion he’d obviously felt he could get away with a kiss when I’d gone over to wish him happy Christmas. I’d felt him glancing my way during the service, and had stolen some looks at him too – to be honest it was hard to keep my eyes off him! I didn’t expect to see him at this year’s service. As we were both involved with a local charity I’d seen him fairly frequently during the year since the break-up, and he had never stopped treating me as someone special to him. If we didn’t see each other for a few weeks then the first time we met again he’d be extra attentive. Not necessarily talking a lot but spending a lot of time near me, glancing my way, being around me like he’d really missed me. That really confused me as I’d heard rumours of another woman in his life, yet she never came with him to our meetings which was odd, that she wouldn’t be involved in something he cared so much about. Recently I’d been ill and on my return he had been so sweet, so concerned that I was fully recovered, that I shouldn’t overdo things until I was ready, making lots of eye contact like he always had (more in one year than my ex-husband had given me in 15 years!) and spending time just chatting to me, being near me, getting things I needed – particularly cups of tea! – and running me home via the supermarket if I needed anything heavy. I never knew shopping could be such fun! He’d often done that when we were together so it wasn’t new to be shopping with him. It was nice to do ordinary, mundane things with him. I think we both learnt a lot about each other through those shopping trips, he was much better at sussing out whether offers really were worth the money or not – and was always friendly to the checkout staff, didn’t treat them like they weren’t there as many people do. And we’d talked, so much about all sorts of things – music, tv, the world, private stuff, and personal things we wouldn’t have told just anyone. The months since I’d accepted we were over had been hard. Countless times when things had gone wrong I’d wanted to call him, just to talk to him – he was the one person who had known instinctively how to calm me down when I was stressed, knew how to make me relax, even laugh. He always said or did the right thing. But I didn’t. I left him alone. I kept my dignity and self-respect – in front of him at least. At home on my own I’d never cried so many tears over someone in my life before, not even when my marriage had ended. I’d learned from this man that I’d not really loved my ex-husband enough, not as much as I’d come to love this guy. I’d not had the respect, admiration and awe for him that this man had earned from me just by being him. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t perfect! I knew that. I knew his faults, his limitations, but they were minor and I accepted them as part of him. The only thing that was sometimes frustrating was his inability to discuss deep emotional stuff. I put it down to him being some years older than me. But although he’d rarely said anything I’d always known from the look on his face when he liked the way I looked. I’d known by looks he gave me that he cared, trusted me, wanted me. That’s what was confusing me now because I was still getting those looks, that care and attention. I knew that he was still looking out for me, was concerned about me, and if something really bad happened that I could turn to him for support without a moment’s hesitation and he would be there for me. I’d shouted at my four walls, the sea, the tv, so many times in the past 10 months wanting to know why he’d ended it. Why when it had been so good between us had he withdrawn, backed away from the relationship. I knew it was no use asking him! I’d got to know him well enough to know that he’d tell me what he thought he ought to say, not what he really felt. His actions had always spoken louder than his words. And it was his actions that had continued to tell me how he still felt about me. Whether he had someone else or not I knew I still had a special place in his heart. Did he feel we were worlds apart? The age gap had never been an issue – though occasionally the subject of gentle teasing! – but I suspected he felt that my higher formal education was too big a barrier to a real future between us. If only he’d talked to me I’d have told him that none of it mattered to me – the city job, the smart but cosy flat, the degree – I’d give it all up if I had to in order to spend my life with him. Was he protecting me or both of us from getting hurt? Did he think that I couldn’t cope with his life, his family and that I’d leave him one day, fall out of love? I could only think that if I’d done something wrong to cause him to end it that he wouldn’t have stayed so close to me, so caring? If only he would talk to me! And yet, I wouldn’t change a thing about him, including that “strong but silent” part of him that I loved even though it could be frustrating. I checked the clock. It was ten past eleven. Time to get going if I wasn’t going to be late for the service. I grabbed the bag of presents and cards for my friends, wrapped up warmly and left the flat. I was feeling strong, able to cope with this holiday. I knew I would get through it, with a few tears I suspected, but I would get out and do things, read, walk, visit museums maybe, or the sales. I would try hard not to sit around and brood. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see him tonight or not. Part of me hoped he wouldn’t be there, that would make it so much easier to deal with. And yet part of me wanted him to be there. Just to see him, be around him, chat to him. I had no expectations of getting back with him. Things happen at a particular time for a reason that we may never know. I’d had my time with him and maybe that was all I was to have. I didn’t regret a moment of it – and would do it all over again given the chance. I sat in a side aisle with friends. Suddenly I could see through to the front door and saw him. Walking in. Alone. Our eyes met and we exchanged a nod, long eye contact and a smile as he found a seat on the far side, but in a position where he could glance my way without anyone noticing. He did nothing by accident. He could have sat further forward so that he couldn’t see me at all. I took a few deep breaths. My friends were gossiping around me before the service started. I was thankful that no-one was taking any notice of me at that moment as I was sure they would be able to tell that my heart was racing, though hopefully not the reason for it! It didn’t always happen, but sometimes when I saw him I felt like a teenager again and had to work hard at acting like nothing was up, calm myself down. If nothing else I wanted to be adult and dignified in front of him! The service went well. I felt rather than saw him glancing my way now and then, and I admit I stole some looks his way too. Afterwards I joined in the exchange of gifts with my circle of friends, then looked over to where he’d been sitting. He was still there, looking thoughtful. I slipped away from my friends and went over to him, sliding quietly into the seat next to him. “Hi, happy Christmas” I whispered. “Hi. You ok?” I just nodded, searching his face with my eyes. He turned to face me and caught my eyes with his blue ones. And held them. It felt like forever as we just sat there. I came to realise that my hand was in his larger one. It was warm, as usual. I knew the power that was in that hand, and yet could feel its gentleness too. He nodded towards the doors. I smiled and nodded and went to gather my stuff together, slipping out of the doors, he wasn’t far behind. He took the bag from me and we started walking towards the sea-front, not talking but silence had never been awkward between us and still wasn’t. The sea was still, calm, dark. Despite the late hour it wasn’t too cold. “I’m sorry” he said. “What for?” “Ending it.” I kept quiet. Just looked up at him, to see him gazing at me, with a loving look on his face. “There was stuff going on, I needed to be on my own at the time, but I never meant to hurt you.” I nodded. I’d known that he wouldn’t have, still wouldn’t, hurt me on purpose or reckless as to how I felt. It hadn’t been his fault I’d fallen so hard for him just before it ended. I’d never told him, but I was sure he’d seen it in my face, then and in the months since. And even now I found it hard to keep my feelings from showing on my face when he was around. “What’s happening now?” I dared to ask. “I knew you’d be there tonight. I … I needed to see you, be around you. To find out if …” He looked out to sea, to the moonlit horizon. For what seemed like ages. I knew to keep quiet though. “To see if you’d take me back. I know I have no right to expect you to say yes. We’ll do it right this time, make it public, take it easy but I think we know now, well …” “It’s ok”. I stretched up to kiss him. “The answer’s yes. No doubt about it.” Not for the first time I suddenly felt myself in his arms without realising it had happened, it had always been so easy and natural between us, right from the start – and always would be. Any problems ahead would be worked out – there was enough love there to get over any hurdles. And I knew it would start with a fantastic Christmas!
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