Unrequited

It had taken five years for him to see how thoughtless he’d been.

Although they were both in their fifties, they had argued like a couple of love-sick teenagers. For several weeks he’d been thinking about it. He’d turned the events of that evening over and over in his mind, remembering all of it. He had a clear recollection of the house, the party, the music and laughter coming from inside as they stood on the porch, filled with anger; anger directed at each other. Then, the point where she had said she didn’t want him to drive her home, she would catch the bus. Then, his response, something that could only make matters a whole lot worse, he laughed. On reflection, that single thing was easily the most stupid thing he had ever done in his life!

He got out of the car and stood looking at the house. The nearest street lamp was some way off, but there was enough light for him to recognise it from all those years back. The house looked as though it was in total darkness save for a faint glow coming through chinks in the upper curtains. After all his planning, had he come too late in the evening? It had only just gone nine. Regardless of such considerations, there would be no turning around now. No, he was there. He would tell her how sorry he was. He would say how foolish he’d been and how much he loved her. He pressed the doorbell.

Inside, the woman lays in her bed. Despite the number of prescribed pain-killers she had already taken, the pain was still there. She has often thought that she simply imagines that her sciatica has got increasingly worse since that night after the party. She knows that the regret that she endures after that unwarranted moment when she had turned her back on him and hurried off to the bus stop, had steadily increased with the passing years. Was it simply pride that had prevented her from apologising for running off like that? After all, he may have forgiven her if she had said how much she loved him.

Outside, he waited in silence. He would give her time.

Inside, she lifted the glass of sherry. It would be the last; she had finished the bottle. She tipped the last of the tablets into the palm of her hand and through her head back. Sipping at the sherry, she swallowed them a few at a time. Soon, the regret and the pain would stop and never return.

Outside, he had rung twice more with no response. He stood back and peered up at the window. Could she know he was there, that it was him; a person, never to be forgiven? He pressed one last time and waited…

Finally, he turned to walk back to his car, not noticing the small card on the front step.

Had he seen it and picked it up… better yet, had he turned it over, even in the poor light, he would have seen the words, ‘Bell broken, please knock’.