21. Facing the Future

"FACING THE FUTURE"

R osie stood in her bedroom, looking into her jewellery box and frowning at its contents as if they had personally offended her. What jewellery should one wear to discuss a thirty-year marriage? And what clothes? She had briefly considered her leopard print blouse – a symbol of her newfound freedom – but decided that might be a tad insensitive.

Finally, she settled on a simple blue dress that Derek had always liked. A peace offering of sorts. Now she needed the right earrings to wear with it…earrings that said ‘I like and respect you enough to make an effort, but I am not in any way flirting with you."

The drive to the mediator's office was difficult. With each mile, Rosie's mind raced with memories – her wedding day, bringing Mary home from the hospital, family holidays, quiet evenings at home.

But alongside these happy recollections came others: the arguments, the growing distance, the feeling of invisibility that had plagued her in the last years of their marriage.

As she pulled into the parking lot, she spotted Derek's car already there. Always punctual, that was Derek.

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped out of the car. "You can do this, Rosie," she muttered to herself. "You faced down Richard. This is a piece of cake."

She found Derek in the waiting room, looking as nervous as she felt. He stood when he saw her, a tentative smile on his face.

"Rosie," he said, his voice warm. "You look lovely."

"Thank you," she replied, suddenly feeling shy. "You look well too."

An awkward moment passed as they both hesitated, unsure whether to hug, shake hands, or simply nod politely. They were saved from their indecision by the arrival of Mrs. Pemberton, a sturdy woman who looked like she had been born in a tweed suit and had possibly never smiled in her life.

"Mr. and Mrs. Brown," she intoned, "if you'll follow me."

As they settled into the overstuffed leather chairs in Mrs. Pemberton's office, Rosie felt like she had been called in to see the headmistress and was about to be scolded for some unknown transgression. She half expected Mrs. Pemberton to pull out a cane and demand lines.

"Now," Mrs. Pemberton began. "We are here to discuss your relationship."

And so began the most surreal experience Rosie had ever encountered. Sitting across from Derek, with the mediator's gentle guidance, they began to unpack thirty years of shared life. Memories, both joyous and painful, were laid bare like delicate china, each to be examined and carefully considered.

Mrs Pemberton insisted on them calling her Sarah, and revealed herself to be a much kinder, gentler person than they had first imagined. As soon as the conversation became tricky, she'd smile warmly: "Let's talk about what brought you both here today."

Derek leaned forward, his eyes earnest. "I want to save our marriage," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Rosie, I know I've made mistakes, but I believe we can work through this. We've built a life together, and I'm not ready to let that go."

Rosie felt a lump form in her throat. She could see the hope in Derek's eyes, the genuine desire to mend what was broken. But alongside that recognition came a whisper of doubt, a question she couldn't quite silence: Was wanting to save their marriage enough?

"Derek," she began slowly, choosing her words with care, "I appreciate that you want to try. But I'm not sure if I'm in the same place. These past few years apart... they've shown me a different side of life, of myself."

Sarah nodded encouragingly. "It's important to be honest about your feelings, Rosie. Can you elaborate on what you've discovered about yourself?"

Rosie took a deep breath, her mind flashing to impromptu adventures with the Sensational Sixties Squad, to newfound confidence, to laughter-filled evenings that didn't revolve around a shared routine. "I've found a sense of independence I didn't know I was missing," she admitted. "I've rediscovered parts of myself that I thought were long gone."

Derek's face fell, but he nodded slowly. "I understand," he said softly. "I've noticed the change in you, Rosie. You seem... lighter, somehow. Happier."

The rest of the session passed in a blur of gentle questions and careful answers. They discussed their history, their present, and tentatively, their future. Derek spoke of his regrets, of his desire to rebuild. Rosie listened and tried to respond in the kindest way she could, but the bottom line was that she didn't think there was anything left to rebuild. She resisted the urgent to bring up the affair. She talked about them now: two people who had simply grown apart.

As they left the mediator's office, Rosie felt emotionally drained but oddly peaceful. They had agreed to take things slowly, to continue with the mediation process without making any firm decisions yet.

"Rosie," Derek said as they reached their cars, "thank you for being willing to try. Whatever happens... I want you to be happy."

Rosie felt a rush of affection for this man who had been her partner for so long. "Thank you, Derek," she replied softly. "I want that for you, too."

As she drove home, Rosie's mind whirled with thoughts and emotions. She barely noticed the journey, finding herself in her driveway without any real memory of the drive. As if summoned by her tumultuous thoughts, her phone buzzed with a series of messages.

Emma: "Well? How did it go? Do I need to bring the emergency chocolate?" Lisa: "Thinking of you, Rosie. Here if you need to talk." Julie: "Just finished a painting I'm calling 'Crossroads'. Want to see it?" Catherine: "Sending hugs and a virtual pot of tea. The real thing is waiting whenever you're ready." Trisha: "Remember, whatever you decide, we're here for you. Also, I've got cake."

Rosie smiled. Those women knew exactly what to say to cheer her up.

Her phone bleeped again with a message from Emma. "We're all at mine, if you fancy coming round. NO pressure, but we're here when you need us."

She turned the key in the ignition, reversed off her drive, and headed straight for her friend's house.

Emma opened the door before Rosie could even knock. "There you are," she said softly, pulling Rosie into a warm hug. "Come in, love. We've got tea, biscuits, and Julie's brought her latest masterpiece. It's... well, you'll see."

Rosie found herself ushered into Emma's living room, which had been transformed into a cozy haven of support. Lisa was arranging a tempting array of biscuits on the coffee table, while Catherine was brewing a pot of tea. Julie was quietly explaining her new painting – a swirling mass of paths and colours that did indeed seem to capture the essence of being at a crossroads.

Trisha, true to her word, had brought cake. "I wasn't sure what flavour best said 'supportive regardless of your decision', so I got a selection," she explained, gesturing to a plate laden with various slices.

As Rosie sank onto the sofa, feeling enveloped by the love and support surrounding her, Emma pressed a steaming mug of tea into her hands. "Right," she said gently, settling in beside Rosie. "Whenever you're ready to talk, we're here to listen. No pressure, no judgement."

Rosie felt tears prick at her eyes, overwhelmed by the kindness of her friends. "Thank you," she managed, taking a sip of tea to steady herself. "It was... intense. Derek wants to try to save the marriage."

A ripple of understanding passed through the group.

"And how do you feel about that?" Lisa asked softly, her eyes full of compassion.

Rosie sighed, cradling her mug. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Part of me remembers the good times, the life we built together. But another part..."

"Wants to see where this new chapter might lead?" Catherine finished gently.

Rosie nodded, feeling a mix of guilt and relief at having her feelings understood. "Is that terribly selfish of me?"

"Not at all," Trisha said firmly. "You're allowed to prioritise your own happiness, Rosie. It's not selfish to want to explore this new side of yourself."

As her friends offered words of support and encouragement, Rosie felt the knot of tension in her chest begin to loosen. They didn't push her towards any particular decision, didn't judge her for her uncertainty. They simply listened, offered comfort, and reminded her of her own strength.

"You know," Julie mused, looking thoughtfully at her painting, "life rarely gives us clear-cut paths. Sometimes we have to forge our own way."