Allan's Back

My lodger's back, Ms J. He spent the weekend with his family, but he's been staying with me during the week because it's much closer to work. He's still shattered by the sudden demise of his marriage, still sad and confused. His wife called here tonight and they spoke for nearly an hour.

"Who was that?" I asked as he clomped down the stairs. "Was it ... her?"

"Yup," he said and plopped down into an arm chair in the livingroom. "You know, I just don't understand women. I don't understand them at all."

"Why?" I called from the kitchen. "What did she say?"

"She said she'd made up her mind. The marriage is over."

I finished carving the last bit of red skin from a potato, dropped the spud into a pot on the stove and took my paring knife into the livingroom. I found my friend staring straight ahead with empty eyes.

"I'm sorry, Allan," I said softly. "I'm really sorry."

"I wonder what I'll do now," he said, his voice flat and emotionless. "What will I do? Where will I go? Who the hell am I now?"

I told him he could stay here for a month or two until he gains some clarity of thought. I know what he'll do, Ms J. He'll spend every waking minute analysing the last few months of his marriage. I know where he'll go. He'll go half crazy trying to make sense of it. But like Allan, I don't know who he is because right now, he's only half of what he once was. He's no longer part of a couple, but only one heart, one soul instead of two.

"I guess I'm alone now, aren't I?" he said to the log in the fireplace.

"No Allan," I told him gently. "You're not alone. You're all one. And you'll learn to live that way. Who knows? Maybe you'll learn to like it. I did."

He turned his sad face toward me and said, "Yeah. Maybe."

But he didn't sound convinced.

***