Late Regrets: An English Tale of a Journey Toward Redemption

Hey love, it’s me, Liz, and I’m just rambling about the crazy catchup I had with Mabel today.

Lizzie, is that you? a familiar voice called from the hallway as I turned.

Mabel? Oh my goodness, its been agesseven, eight years? I laughed, thrilled to hear her.

Nine, darling, nine. Time flies, doesnt it? One blink and youre suddenly an oldfashioned, nagging aunt with a drawer full of pastdue utility bills, Mabel chuckled, squinting one eye. Remember how we used to be inseparable? We sat sidebyside at every desk in schoolno wonder they nicknamed us the Siamese twins. We even begged our mums for matching dresses, schoolbags and diaries. Do you recall?

Of course I do, how could I forget! And that epic graffiti we did on the firstfloor toilet wall at the junior school? We got hauled in to scrub it off. Youll never turn into one of those grumbling grandmothers whining about the good old days. Look at you nowabsolutely glowing! I said, admiring the pretty outfit shed sent me a picture of.

So, Lizzie, Im staying with my parents for a few days while Toms away on a work trip. Im having you over tonight. Dont even think about saying no. You still have my parents address, right? Mabel said, giving me a quick hug and fixing her hair.

Never would I forget the place where I was always welcomed with tea and biscuits. The flat we almost burned down doing kitchen experiments, the cherry turnovers that always burnt to a crisp because we didnt know the first thing about cooking. The juice would spill everywhere and the pastries turned into charcoal, I replied, both of us laughing as we recalled those childhood mishaps.

Good, good, Ill be there. And your favourite cakeNapoleon? Still a favourite? What wine are you into now? No more cheap stuff like we sipped in Year 11, remember that night we were sick for three days and skipped lessons?

Now Im on a nice Bordeaux. I actually brought a bottle for tonight, Mabel said, checking her watch.

Got it, love, I said.

My mum and dad will be thrilled to see you. They were just talking about you yesterday. Well have a proper natteractually, I need to dash to a meeting, so be ready at seven sharp. Cant wait!

Ill be there, see you soon!

Mabel slipped away into the crowd, and I headed to the supermarket for a cake. I still had to ask my husband Mike to look after the kids, but that was easy enough. What about my memory? Some bits feel fuzzy, but maybe thats a blessing.

Come in, dear, dont be shy, called Mrs. Clarke, the housekeeper, as I entered the cosy sitting room.

The table was still laid with a crisp white linen, stiff napkins and polished silverware, just like the old days. A classic English tea set sat on a sideboard, bringing back a rush of happy childhood memories. It made me wish we could be the carefree gigglers we used to be, lounging on the foldout sofa, chatting about our boyfriends into the wee hours. At the same table wed once crammed for exams, scribbling formulas and drawing hyperbolas in our notebooks.

Mabel greeted Peter Simmons, the family solicitor, with a warm hand. He called her a beauty and, to my slight embarrassment, planted a kiss on her hand. After a sip of wine and a forkful of cake, Peter and Mrs. Clarke chatted about the kids and said goodbye, leaving us alone.

I thought to myself, The Clarkes are ever so politejust as Mabels parents always have been.

Finally, we can gossip like old times, Mabel said, putting her halfempty glass down.

I told her wed moved to London three years ago. Tom works as a solicitor in a private firm, and I teach maths at a state school. Our son, Jamie, is now in Year 2, staying with his grandparents while were at work. Hes a curious little devil, always getting into trouble.

Mabel laughed, Remember how we dreamed of marrying pilots and studying at an aeronautics college? We were such hopeless romantics!

Yes, we thought any lad over thirty was an old man, I added, smiling.

Those were the golden days, full of big plans. Then reality slapped us with the pinktinted glasses, Mabel said, shaking her head.

I tried to change the subject, Have you seen Andrew lately? Any word from him?

She rolled her eyes, Oh, stop. I dont want to talk about him. I barely remember him anyway.

I brushed it off and said my goodbyes, heading home in a taxi. As the driver asked if I could go a bit faster, memories Id long tried to hide started flooding backbits of a past Id rather forget. My heart hammered, my cheeks flushed, my fingers went numb.

Are you feeling alright? the driver asked.

Could you speed up, please? I need to get home quickly, I said.

In those twenty minutes, the missing pieces clicked into place. I saw my old bedroom, the posters of actors Id glued from glossy magazines, the porcelain dolls in ball gowns perched beside the piano, the open diary on the desk with its title blurred. I imagined myself sitting on the bed, slicing my wedding dress into tiny strips with nail scissors, scattering sequins across the floor, tearing the veil into ribbons, crushing my shoes, smashing a perfume bottle. The room smelled of cinnamon, rosemary and a hint of jasmine as I destroyed everything that reminded me of Andrew.

Then I spotted a tiny velvet box. Instinctively I grabbed it; inside lay two gold wedding bands, engraved with the word forever. I hauled a heavy axe from the pantry and battered the rings into a flat lump of metal. My hands then snipped away my long chestnut hair, while my mum watched in disbelief.

The weddings off. Its better for both of us to go our separate ways, Andrew had said on the phone three days before the ceremony. I could still hear his voice.

Later, stepping out of the cab at my block, I saw a shadowy figure.

Who could that be? Andrew? I whispered to myself.

Good evening, Liz, the figure called out, his voice trembling.

Im not exactly thrilled to see you, Andrew, but youve got five minutes, I replied, my tone firm. Im doing this out of mercy. Even the condemned get a last word.

He looked nervous under the streetlamp.

Liz, Im sorry. Ive regretted it ever since. I was scared, like a schoolboy. You were twenty then, I was twentyeight. Id had a bad marriage, my wifes betrayal… I didnt want to end up a laughingstock again. I loved you then, I still do, he confessed, reaching for my hands.

I pulled away. Dont. Times running out.

He went on, I spoke to Mabel. Told her everything. She promised to let me know if you still loved me. I thought I might have a chance.

Minus one, I muttered, Shes a traitor, isnt she?

He tried to explain, I didnt know youd forget me. I left for the hills, cut off my phone.

He brushed my forearm, where the old scar lay, and I flinched. Dont touch me, I hissed.

In my head the missing puzzle pieces fell into place.

My parents and brother threatened to ruin me if I came near you. I promised them Id stay away. I visited you in the hospital when you were on a drip for two weeks. I never meant to hurt you.

The night was quiet, only the buzz of mosquitoes and crickets. Suddenly a door slammed in a bathroom. I imagined myself in a tub of hot water, the liquid tinged red, my left arm sliced open by a razor, blood spilling everywhere. I drifted towards sleep, then a scream jolted me awake. My fathers horrified face stared at me, his hair now peppered with grey.

Darling, what have you done?

Fragments of the hospital ceiling flashed in my mind, the white paint, the bandaged arm that never seemed to heal. My soul ached more than any wound could.

I spent three and a half months in the NHS, then returned home under the first snowfall, handinhand with mum and dad. My arm healed, but a part of me died that daysomething that only those whove known deep loss can understand. The drugs dulled the physical pain but left my mind a shell of the lively, joking girl I once was.

Years later I worked as a checkout assistant in a local supermarket, where I met Mike. He mended my broken heart and gave me a reason to live. We married, and for a while everything seemed perfect.

Hold on a sec, I need to grab something, I said to Andrew, darting into the buildings storage. I found an old, dustcovered box on the top shelf.

Here, I handed him the box, found it under the bathroom after my parents moved. Its all thats left of your endless love. Keep it.

He opened it to reveal two shattered rings. A nostalgic tune drifted through his head:

Wedding ring, more than a trinket, two hearts, one decision

He clutched the broken metal, standing beneath the flickering streetlamp, lost in memories.

And thats where I left off, love. Just thought Id share this whole rollercoaster with you. Talk soon!