part one

So – writing about opening those boxes had changed everything. It was the last thing she’d been expecting. It had started off as a little exercise – just to see what she could do. A game with herself. Write what you know. She’d written what she remembered, digging into her memory and she’d been surprised at how much she’d found, considering all the things she’d been putting up her nose and down her throat at the time.

There had been enough time – just – well, sort of. A lot of hiding in her bedroom to escape her sons, who were both at home pretty much constantly. God knows what they’d thought she was doing up there. Meals were more or less on time. Dogs and cats were walked and fed.

The man she was married to had been gone the whole time, thank goodness – stuck thousands of miles away sorting something out, with only occasional hysterical ranting phone calls home at odd times of the day.

After a month or so, she had actively avoided the calls. He’d changed while he’d been away – reverted to the deeply dysfunctional person she shouldn’t have married in the first place. She knew she would have to do something about that sooner or later, but it was bearable while he was gone. She’d been able to stick her fingers in her ears and enjoy her game.

It had been fun at first – it had all been so long ago. Even some of the really bad memories had been ok to write about – they’d been about people long ago – people she no longer cared about. She’d written the truth mostly – as she’d seen it at the time – that had been the object of the game.

It had been hard to keep this up with some of the memories, because in real life they’d been corrected in her long discussions with an old friend. That had started years ago. He’d emailed her and had suggested that life was too short to carry on not speaking.

She’d responded with pleasure. She’d agreed with him. Had they been in their late thirties at the time? Something like that. She had already dumped the father of her children by then, but they had still been living together - just.

The old friend had had problems of his own – he’d told her – drugs, marriage – all the usual stuff. Then a fresh start with his wife; a pin in the map – literally. And now he was thousands of miles away, but he was coming home and wanted to meet up. It had been the worst possible moment – right smack in the middle of a house move. She hadn’t been able to make it but she’d felt bad turning him down.

The next time he’d come back, it had been three or four years later perhaps. He’d said he was doing well. He was happier, more settled with his wife, off drugs, two kittens. She was already involved with the man she would marry shortly afterwards, but wasn’t living with him yet. He’d been away at the time on one of his long trips to the Far East.

She’d met him at the tiny end of the line station, slightly dreading the possibility of long gaps in the conversation. She’d been surprised at how good he had looked – so much more comfortable in his skin that he had the last time they’d met.

They’d had supper, he’d met the boys, and after they had gone off to their father’s for the night, the two of them had opened a bottle of something and had spent the evening sitting at the kitchen table, talking about this and that. It had been nice. They hadn’t dipped below any surfaces. It had just been a pleasant evening.

The next morning he had said, quite sadly, “you need to get out more” and she’d made some comment or other about how having children made that kind of thing quite hard. It wasn’t until she’d actually taken him back to the station that she’d looked in his eyes – properly – and realised that there had been a lot more to say and of course it had been too late by then. There had just been time for a hug – a proper one. She hadn’t wanted to let go. And then the train had arrived. She’d watched it go until it had disappeared around the bend and she could no longer see it.

More emails. A few phone calls. Then a gap – a couple of years maybe? She had been so busy marrying, moving house again. When things had calmed down a little she had thought of him and sent an email: “are you still there?”