Sorry, part six: The Aftermath

Links to the rest of this story: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven The more I write this story, the more I realise just how big a part of my life Sorry has been. If I were to write about him in only one part, it would be too long a dialogue to read. Even now I find myself missing out gret chunks of our history, if only to get across my story in brief. When I left Jack, I realised there were only two good things which had emerged from our turbulent relationship: my beautiful son, and my realisation that I was strong enough to make something good of my life. Other than that, I was lost. I no longer had a place to call home. I'd had to give that up along with Jack and most of my belongings. All I had in possession to my name were the clothes I was wearing, my son's pram and a small bag of baby clothes. We had to build our lives again from scratch. For a couple of weeks, we stayed in the caravan next to my parents' home as they truly had no other place to put us up. It was hardly an ideal situation, so a few weeks later we decided to lodge with an old friend, Louise, until somewhere more permanant could be found. When things had finally settled down, I deided to call Sorry, just to let him know Jack and I had split, that we were okay, we'd come through. Underlying, of course, was the notion that we were both single. Even though I was a single mum, I hoped there could be at least a possibility... We arranged to meet at the precinct where we could get a drink and chat. I arranged a babysitter for my son, spent hours trying to make myself look good without appearing as though I'd made too much effort. I tried to be fashionably late, hoping he'd be waiting for me. But there was no sign of him. Nor was there two coffees later. Iwas getting ready to give up and leave when I saw him come through the doors, flushed and anxious as though he'd been in a great rush. "Sorry I'm late," he explained. "Something came up. Well, actually, there's someone I'd like you to meet..." I just wasn't prepared for her. A let down I could take. "Let's just be friends," or "I just don't fancy you!". Anything but Maria. She sauntered into the cafe like an angel floating on the air, elegent even in jeans and a sweater. Sorry put his arm around her waist and I knew i was doomed. Sorry introduced me as his "old friend". I wonder if he noticed the pain in my eyes as I stuggled so hard not to let the tears show. "I'm really that you found someone special," I told him afterwards. And I was being honest, I wanted Sorry to be happy. But in my heart, I'd hoped he could be happy with me. We met again by accident when he popped round to see Louise not realising I would be there. He was so cheerful that day, showing off the photograph he had in his wallet of Maria, telling everyone how gorgeous she was, , how elated he felt that they'd met. I could only stand it for a few minutes before I had to get out of there. Louise knew how I felt, she watched me with pity as I made some excuse about needing to visit Mum, hiding my face with my hair. A few yards down the road, Sorry caught up with me, asking if I was alright. I couldn't tell him, it would be so unfair, but I think he guessed. He gave me a hug and said we could still be friends. But that was the last time I saw him for four years. I read about his marriage to Maria in the newspaper when it featured an article about his dramatic proposal after his first gig in a local bar. I was glad we weren't in contact then. No doubt, Sorry would have wanted his 'old friend' at his wedding, but even then I don't think I could have coped well without making a fool of myself in his presence. No-one understood my melancholy. I didn't dare tell I was still in love with the ghost of my past...