The Husband I Never Became

Chapter One: The Call

My mother had just asked whether there was a nice girl at work when Alexis called from New York.

I looked down at my phone before answering. Mum was still at the kitchen table, folding a tea towel into a neat square as if she hadn’t just asked me the same question she had been asking for years.

“Not that I know of,” I said.

She sighed. “You never know anyone. You work, you come home, and you expect life to happen by itself.”

“I’m only twenty-four.”

“Exactly.”

She said it as if the right girl were somewhere in Manchester, waiting for me to notice her. Mum and Dad never said it outright, but they spoke about wives and families as if they were the only future a man could have. I liked boys. I always had. Alexis knew. My parents didn’t. I’d never had the courage to date one. I was afraid of what my parents would do if they found out.

The phone kept ringing. I picked it up before Mum could suggest anyone else.

Alexis’s name filled the screen. I tapped answer, and her face appeared, framed by the dark window of her flat and the city lights behind her. Her long brown hair was pulled over one shoulder. Even through the screen, her blue eyes looked bright and amused.

“Please tell me I interrupted something dull,” she said.

“You interrupted a discussion about my future wife.”

“Then I’ve saved you. You’re welcome.”

I carried the phone into the sitting room and lowered myself onto the sofa. “You’re in a generous mood.”

“I’m always generous.”

“You once ate my entire birthday cake.”

“You’d had enough.”

“I’d had one slice.”

“And you were going to have another. I could see it in your face.”

I smiled. Alexis had moved to America with her family when we were teenagers, but distance had never made us strangers. We spoke most weeks. Sometimes it was a proper call, sometimes a collection of voice notes sent between errands. She still knew when I was pretending to be fine and when I needed her to ask again.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “You’re smiling like you have news.”

“I do.” She leaned closer to the camera. “I’m coming to England.”

My smile widened. “When?”

“Next month. For a couple of months, if everything goes to plan.”

“Couple of months?” I sat forward. “You haven’t been home properly in ages.”

“I know. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed you.” Her expression softened. “And Ted invited me to stay with him for part of the trip. He grew up not far from Manchester, so it works out rather well.”

“Ted from last summer?”

“The very same.”

“The one you said was ‘interesting’?”

“I said he was interesting because I didn’t want to jinx it.”

“And now?”

“Now I think it’s going somewhere.”

There was a warmth in her voice I hadn’t heard before. I felt happy for her, though a small part of me already wanted to inspect this man closely. Alexis had always been able to make people feel at ease. Sometimes that meant she gave them more chances than they deserved.

“How far is ‘going somewhere’?” I asked.

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“Pretending you’re asking casually when you’re already planning to interrogate him.”

“I don’t interrogate people.”

“You absolutely do. You just call it asking sensible questions.”

“I’m your oldest friend. I’m entitled to a few sensible questions.”

“You are.” Her smile returned. “That’s why I want you to meet him. He says he’d like to meet the people who matter to me.”

The words sounded ordinary. The seriousness in her face wasn’t.

“Then I’ll meet him,” I said. “You don’t need to make it sound like I’m being summoned to an interview.”

“You might be. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Should I bring a reference?”

“Bring your good manners.”

“I’ve heard of those.”

“Use them this time, then.”

I laughed. The sound came more easily than it had all afternoon. Mum had gone quiet in the kitchen, though I could hear a cupboard opening and closing. She was listening while trying to make it seem as if she wasn’t.

“Have you told your parents you’re coming?” I asked.

“Not yet. I wanted to tell you first.”

“That’s dangerous. I might make you stay with me.”

“I was hoping you would.”

“You’re staying with Ted.”

“For some of it. I’m not giving him the whole trip.”

“Good. He hasn’t earned that.”

Alexis gave me a look. “You haven’t even met him.”

“I’m keeping an open mind.”

“You’re doing a terrible job of it.”

“I’ll improve when he’s in the room.”

She tilted the phone, and the light caught her face. She looked older than the girl who used to climb the low wall behind my parents’ garden and dare me to jump down after her. Not different, exactly. More certain of herself. She had the same quick smile, the same look that made it seem as if she’d already spotted the joke before anyone else had.

“You look tired,” she said.

“I’m fine.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Enough.”

“That means no.”

“It means enough.”

She watched me for a moment. “Everything all right at home?”

“Yes.”

“And your parents?”

“They’re my parents.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got.”

Her mouth pressed into a small line. She knew better than to push when I was in the mood to shut a door. Instead, she gave me a softer smile.

“I’ll be there soon. You can tell me then.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“You’d better.” She paused. “I’ve missed you, Isaac.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

For a few seconds we said nothing. The silence between us had never needed filling. I could see the faint reflection of her room in the dark window behind her. She had a new lamp beside the sofa and a stack of books on the table. I wondered if she still kept the photograph from our school trip in a drawer somewhere: the two of us squinting into the sun, her arm around my neck, my hair sticking up in every direction.

Mum appeared in the doorway.

“Is that Alexis?”

Alexis heard her. “Hi, Mrs Reed.”

Mum’s face brightened. “Alexis! How lovely to see you. When are you coming home?”

“Next month. I’ll tell you all about it when I’m there.”

“Oh, wonderful. You must come for dinner. We’ll have everyone over.”

“I’d love that.”

Mum turned to me, her expression changing into the one she used when she thought a conversation had been interrupted before she could finish it.

“You should invite someone too,” she said. “A nice girl from work, perhaps.”

“Not now, Mum.”

“I’m only saying—”

“I know what you’re saying.”

Alexis’s eyes moved between us. She didn’t speak, but I saw the concern settle in her face.

Mum gave a little shake of her head and went back to the kitchen.

I looked down at the phone. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me.”

“I’m not. I’m apologising for having a mother who thinks every conversation is an opportunity to arrange my life.”

“She loves you.”

“I know.”

“And she wants you happy.”

“I know that too.”

Alexis didn’t tell me what I should feel about it. She never did. That was one of the reasons I trusted her.

“Anyway,” she said, shifting back to her brighter tone, “I’ll send you the dates when I book my flight. Then you can prepare your interview questions.”

“I’ll keep them reasonable.”

“Try to keep them to five.”

“No promises.”

“Isaac.”

“Fine. Three.”

“Three questions and one warning about how you’ll know if I’m unhappy.”

“That seems fair.”

“Good. I’m holding you to it.”

We said goodbye a few minutes later. After the call ended, I stayed on the sofa with the phone in my hand. In its dark screen, I caught a glimpse of myself: brown hair falling across my forehead, tired eyes, and the smile I hadn’t realised I still had.

Outside, the evening light was fading over Manchester. From the kitchen, Mum called to ask whether I wanted tea.

I stood and went to join her.

For the first time that day, I was looking forward to something.