1975

15 Minute Write

1975. She was 21 with the most wonderful life ahead of her, or so she thought. What should have been the best year of her life, turned out to be the most pivotal, in all the wrong ways. She had met her handsome man, the one who would, she felt sure, be with her all the way. He was everything she thought she needed until she found out that ‘he had too much love for one woman alone’ 

We say that our hearts are broken, but she never truly understood this. Rather than feeling devastated or destroyed, ripped apart, miserable or sorrowful, she felt pure anger. How dare he wreck what she had planned, her future, her enjoyment, her perfect path. A wedding, a house, children, grandchildren, a happy retirement with love, friendship and a companion of equal measures, devoted to each other just like the films she had watched so avidly before they met.

From that day on she changed, became self-contained, strong, independent and determined. She had lovers. Some lasted a few years, some months, others only weeks. But they all ended in the same way - with her feeling an unsteadiness, a dread of being left looking weak, which she lied into a loss of independence. She ended it before this could ever happen. The irony that she caused, in some of these men, what she had enforced upon her wasn’t missed. But she knew the decision, for her, was the right one. She did not give up hope, though.

And so on this day, she found herself walking the streets of Dubrovnik in the blistering heat of a summer’s day. The foot-worn shine of the marble reflected heat on every inch of her, like a tormentor, drawing attention to her singledom. She had come away on a cruise for over 50s singles, thinking that perhaps she would find a companion of either sex who was strong enough to form a close friendship with or at the very least be able to have a laugh with. Through the interminable ‘Singles mingles’ parties to the Captain’s table, she felt miserable and more alone than ever. Talk was of the people who had been lost. Singles on these types of cruises were not like her - lifelong - they were forced into their position after illnesses, accidents or simple loss. They might as well have all had double cabins, as they were accompanied everywhere they went.

She found it impossible to have a conversation without being quizzed about who she had lost - and whilst she wanted to tell them about Mr 1975 she saw that it was merely through spite and cruelty rather than any real need for them to understand or for her to make herself understood. In the end, she considered making someone up - but what was the point - she didn’t want to share grief, she wanted to have some fun. Freedom was theirs, but it was something that virtually everyone on the ship had never known and didn’t know how to embrace. 

In some ways, this made her feel happy with her life and her lifestyle, but why was she here? What possible good could come from being amongst all of these people with all of their baggage and sadness - it was almost as if they were just treading water, biding their time until they could go the same way, as if there really was some form of reuniting. 

And then she saw him. That insufferable hot afternoon walking the ancient Croatian thoroughfares. She was sure it was him. She wouldn’t mistake that arrogant swagger and overconfidence she had taken all these years ago for charm and attractiveness. He was with some woman half his age (she wondered whether it was in fact his daughter - but they were holding hands in far too flirtatious a manner). She had no way of avoiding him - this narrow backstreet - but to her great relief, or was it great sadness (she couldn’t tell)  as they closed into an intimate distance she saw that she was mistaken. 

It was at that moment she decided to pack her bags and leave at the next port of call for a flight home. She understood who she was. And she was happy. She wouldn’t spend another moment living in the past.

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Photo: Dubrovnik 2022. Nikon d750

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