A Life Fulfilled - Short Story

This is a short story I recently did as part of the Reedsy Prompts. The prompt was to start the opening line with; By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire.

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. Some of them were, anyway, because others had already turned brown, fallen to the floor and been crushed into the mud. They'd gone through their life cycle; growing and changing with the seasons, until their purpose was fulfilled. Whatever that purpose was. Was it to look pretty, to shelter birds or was it deeper than that? 

It was more than that. After all, trees inhale the bad air and breathe out the precious oxygen that we need to survive. Trees are life. Those leaves were trodden into the ground by the feet of the people that depend on them for their very existence. Though, I guess once they've fallen from their place, they're of no use to us.

I wonder if that's what he'll think of me? I'm a woman. I'm his wife. Don't I too, have a purpose to fulfil? A promise to honour. Am I really comparing myself to a leaf?! As if I could ever be that useful.

I continue to walk among the trees for a little longer, in no rush to be where I'm supposed to be, or to face reality. 

"Cheer up love, it may never happen!" a stranger says, as he walks past me.

"Sod off," I reply bluntly, wiping the smile off his stupid face!

Why do people say that to someone they don't know?! Especially someone walking here, of all places?! How does he know 'it' hasn't literally just happened? 

My blood boils and I'm about to turn around to bollock him some more, but I'm stopped by a leaf dancing in front of my eyes. It almost looks happy as it twirls around in front of my face, like it's fulfilled its purpose and is now going off to its final resting place, having led a full and accomplished life. First that prick, and now I'm being taunted by a dead leaf! 

I reach out and catch it in my palms. It feels so light, so lifeless and, it may just be my imagination, but it looks like it's fading from flaming red and orange, to lifeless brown, right before my eyes. 

⧪⧪⧪

"I'm home," I call out, as I walk through the front door, and I'm greeted by silence in response. 

I take off my shoes, hang up my bag and then just stare at my face in the mirror for a few minutes, unable to quite believe how much has changed in the space of the day. Then I walk up the stairs, in search of my husband. 

I hear the shower as I walk into the bedroom and I fall onto the bed, put my head in my hands and try to work out how I’m going to have this conversation. I should have brought him with me, then he would have heard all of the details and been able to ask his questions to the people that would have been able to answer them. Hindsight really is a bitch. Still… I was hoping to surprise him with good news.

The door to the ensuite opens and Andy steps out, soaking wet with only a towel wrapped around him. He still has his abs, a decent enough hairline (for a thirty-eight-year-old), a smile that not only kills me, but any woman he uses it on, and dark brown eyes that I just want to melt into. I also know what’s under that towel! The first time I saw him, I told my best friend Becky that, “he just made me ovulate!” 

“Jesus Christ, Han!” He jumped as he saw me. “You scared the crap out of me!”

He walks over to the bed and kisses my lips, soaking my cheek in the process. I wipe it dry as he goes to the wardrobe to find some clothes. 

“Are you showering before we go?” he asks, but I don’t respond because I’m not fully in the room. “Han?”

“Hmmm?” I turn to look at him.

He gives a little chuckle, his smile makes me wobble a bit, and I want to cry because I’m going to wipe it off his face soon.

“Are you showering before we go out?” he asks again.

“Out?” I ask, giving him a confused look, and then I focus on the clothes he’s selected and see that he’s holding his best shirt.

He laughs again, walks over to me and strokes my head. “Where are you? We’re going out for dinner with Becky and Graham, and Mick and that girl he’s seeing.” 

“That’s tonight?!” I ask in surprise.

“Yes…” he replies cautiously. “You were the one reminding me about it last night… are you OK, babe? Has something happened at work?”

“No, work was fine… I’m just tired and completely forgot,” I reply, feigning indifference. “Do you think we could cancel it?”

“Cancel it?” He raises his eyebrow and gives me his ‘are you serious right now’ look. “This has been in the diary for months and you know you’ll be on Becky’s shit list for double that time if we cancel!”

“Yes… you’re right.” I’ve been there before. “Sorry, I’ll just have a shower and wake myself up,” I tell him, as I jump up.

“Are you ill?” he asks, giving me a look of concern.

“Just tired,” I say, as I walk away from him.

Once in the bathroom I close the door and sit on the toilet for a moment. How could I have forgotten about tonight, and more importantly, how the hell am I going to get through it?!

After my shower, I go to my wardrobe and look for something to wear and I stop when I see my go-to black dress. Black feels about the right colour at the moment, it’s definitely not a day for red. I’m about to pull it off its hanger when a muscled arm wraps around my waist. 

“Wear that navy one with the lace, you look absolutely stunning in it!” Andy’s lips are on my neck. “In fact, maybe you should take this towel off, because I know what’s underneath is even better,” he says seductively, as his hand moves up to my chest, to pull at the corner of the towel that has been tucked in.

I put my hand on his. “We don’t have time.”

“There’s always time…” He pushes his pelvis into my lower back, and I can feel his erection. The hungry, wanton woman inside me, wants to come out and play, but the one that’s feeling a little broken puts her back in her place.

“I’ve just showered…” I gently nudge away from him and start to pull the black dress over my head. 

⧪⧪⧪

We walk into the restaurant and I plaster a smile on my face, when I see that everyone is already here - Becky, Graham, Mick and the girl he’s just started seeing. I’ve been told her name, but I didn’t really commit it to memory (there’s never much point). Mick is a decent man and a lifelong friend of Andy’s, but with women, it really is a case of blink and you'll miss them.

Everyone stands up as we get to the table, and we all exchange hugs and kisses. Then I stand, facing a leggy blonde with impossibly pert breasts, that the owner is clearly very proud of given the small amount of fabric that is covering them. I’m thirty-two and my own breasts are still holding their own in their battle against gravity, but I suddenly wish I’d gone for the navy dress.

I smile at her and she beams right back. “Hannah, this is Stacey… Stacey, this is Hannah.” Mick smiles brightly as he introduces us. 

“It’s lovely to meet you Stacey,” I say, as I offer my hand, which she pushes aside as she pulls me in for a hug. I’m not adverse to hugging strangers, but Stacey is a bit taller than me and the unexpected embrace has put my head a little too close to her breasts and I’m now staring down her cleavage.

“It’s lovely to meet you too!” she beams at me. Then she turns to my left and I see her flush a little as her hand moves to her hair and she takes in my husband. “You must be Andy?!” she says as she pulls him into her chest too, and although Andy is taller than her, I don’t miss the direction in which eyes have travelled.

We take our seats, and I fill my glass with some of the wine that is open on the table. Andy does the same, but then he leans into me. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be drinking?”

“One won’t hurt,” I reply as I take a large drink, already knowing that I will absolutely be having more than one.

It’s been a while since we caught up like this, so the chat flows easily as we all fill each other in on any details of our lives that we may have missed. Becky is on my left and I'm engrossed with her, but then her eyes flitter past me and pause for a moment before focusing back on mine.

“Be discreet, Han… but turn around,” she instructs me in a whisper.

I do as she asks and turn to see Stacey and Andy having a chat - which would be innocent enough if she wasn’t angled towards him and playing with her hair! Oh.... so, Stacey is one of those! Mick’s had them before, and with Andy, it’s like dangling a moth in front of a flame. I married a gorgeous man, so I expect women to come onto him. I do, however, also expect them to back the hell off when they see his wedding ring, and I absolutely expect them to have a little more respect than to flirt with him right in front of me. 

I’m not the insecure type, I look in the mirror and I’m happy with what I see, and I get my share of flattering attention too. However, unlike how my husband is behaving right now, I don’t do anything to encourage it! 

Andy is cheeky and friendly and often borders on the flirtatious, and to be fair, I’m usually OK with it, because it’s totally harmless. I trust my husband, I do… but today is not the day for it.

I clear my throat and nudge him a little so that I can get his attention, and he turns and leans into me with a big grin on his face. “Wipe your mouth… you’re drooling,” I tell him quietly, but firmly. 

He frowns at me. “We’re just talking, Han.” Then he watches as I refill my wine glass and the frown never leaves his face. “I thought you were just having one?”

I let out a slight huff and gesture to his new friend. “I think I’m going to need more than that tonight.”

Graham then gets Andy’s attention and they start talking about the golf trip they have planned in a few weeks. I look over to Stacey, who is still staring at my husband, and then over to Mick, who looks like he’s the third wheel on somebody else’s date. I catch his eye and he gives me a knowing, apologetic smile, as he takes a big gulp of his drink.

⧪⧪⧪

“So, Hannah, tell me… how long have you and Andy been married?!” Stacey slurs as she leans into my ear. Somehow, during various toilet trips, the seating arrangement has changed, and Stacey is now sitting in between me and my husband. 

“We’ve been married eight years, and together for ten,” I tell her, also slurring a little. That fourth glass of wine tipped the balance a bit.

“But you have no children?!” she asks, or is she challenging me? 

I’m not sure, right now. She could just be making conversation and that is one of the most overused (and thoughtless) questions that gets asked to a thirty-two-year-old, that’s been in a relationship with the same man for a decade. Unfortunately, for her, it was the wrong question, the wrong woman and the wrong day.

I take a few deep breaths before answering her. “No,” I manage to say with a polite smile still on my face. 

“Oh…” she says, as she looks away.

Yeah… wrong question, wrong woman, wrong day, wrong reaction and four glasses of wine; I am not going to be able to let that go. “What do you mean by that?”

She turns to me in surprise, brings her hand to her ample breast in a look that suggests that she’s been wounded by my question. “Nothing!” she says innocently. “I know some women are all about the work and Mick said you have a great job…”

“I do, thanks. Have you decided what you’re going to do when you leave school?!” I ask a little too loudly and the whole table turns to look at me.

Everyone falls silent. It feels like the entire restaurant is silent, but in reality, it’s just our table. I take everyone in. Becky (who is on my side) is stifling a laugh, Graham is looking away (he doesn’t do confrontation), Mick is looking embarrassed, Andy looks at me as if I couldn’t be more of a disappointment (well, he just needs to wait a little longer, then) and Stacey stands up, bursts into tears and runs to the toilets.

I look down a little, fully aware that I’ve taken things too far, and yet, I’m feeling a mix of both guilt and justification. I look at Mick and cringe. “Sorry…” I tell him, aware that I’ve not only upset Stacey, but I’ve also embarrassed a good friend.

“Can you guys settle up and then let me know what I owe you?” Andy asks as he rises from his chair. “I think it’s time we left.”

⧪⧪⧪

Andy doesn't speak to me for the entire taxi drive home, but I know what’s coming. We get into the house and he walks into the kitchen and puts the kettle on. I take off my heels, rub my feet, and do the walk of shame into my own kitchen.

I lean against the doorframe and then Andy finally turns me. “What the hell was that, Hannah?”

I feel my defences building. “I could ask you the same thing, flirting with that child right in front of me!”

“She’s twenty-six, and you’d know that if you’d taken the time to speak to her…”

“She was a little preoccupied, with you!” I reply snidely.

“And you were preoccupied with refilling your wine glass!” he almost shouts back. “One glass, I could understand, but you practically necked a bottle, Han… you know you’re not supposed to be drinking… the doctors said…”

“I know what the doctors said!” I shout back as the tears fall. I know way more than he does. “I didn’t think one night would matter…”

“Han… we’ve been trying for a baby for two years… every night matters, you know this,” he says more pleadingly.

“It doesn’t matter…” I practically whisper. “Because there will be no baby.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, as he covers the space between us. “I know it’s been hard, but now's not the time…”

“There will be no baby…” I tell him again, before I slide down the wall and burst into tears.

“Han! Han… sweetheart, talk to me…” he gently urges as he lowers himself onto the floor next to me. 

I can’t. I can’t form any words because the tears are falling too hard and I’m scared to form the right words, because then I’ll break his heart too. He just holds me there and lets me cry and eventually I calm myself down enough to speak.

“I had an appointment at the hospital today…”

“What?! Why didn’t you tell me?!” he asks in shock.

“You had that ridiculous project and the way they spoke on the phone made me think it would be good news… I thought I could come home and surprise you!” I burst into tears again and he holds me even closer.

“Han… what did they say?” he asks shakily.

I clear my throat. “I have something called ‘oligo-anovulation.’ It’s why my periods have always been irregular…”

“What does it mean?”

“It means the chance of conceiving is practically non-existent… regardless of how much alcohol I do or don’t drink!” Then I run upstairs, put my pyjamas on and hide under the duvet. 

Eventually, Andy comes upstairs and lays in bed next to me, he puts his hand on my head and leans into me. “If it is only ever going to be you and me, then that’s enough for me, Han… I love you more than anything.”

“I want a baby…” I say shakily, as the tears stream down my cheeks.

⧪⧪⧪

I wake up in the morning to an empty bed and when I go down to the kitchen, I find Andy sitting at his laptop with an almost empty cafetiere. He jumps up as soon as he sees me and pulls me over to the laptop.

“I don’t know what those doctors told you, Han, but there are things that can be done. It’s going to be a long road, but it’s not impossible! If you want to keep trying, then I’m happy to do that. A baby would be amazing, but you will always be enough for me,” he says as he kisses me gently. 

I pick up his coffee cup and walk to the window that looks into our back garden, and stare at the old oak tree. Andy’s arm wraps around my waist, and as he whispers, “We can do this,” a single leaf floats gently to the ground.