Jack had bought a large bunch of flowers; a bouquet of red roses and pink lilies. Her favourites.
But sweet, sticky guilt still stuck to him, like pollen to a bee.
It was seven years ago today that they had both smiled and said “I do,” and he had swept Marianne off her feet outside the church. Back then there had been bright blue skies and warm September sunshine. Jack looked up at the sky. Grey and brooding today.
He glanced at the flowers on the backseat as he made his way through the traffic. He was sure she wouldn’t really mind if he was just ten minutes late; after all, he had brought flowers. He knew he should have left earlier as he had originally planned, but, well. Kathy had been too tempting to resist from giving a few more kisses all over her body before he told her firmly that he really did have to go.
Jack would be the first to admit he was never going to make the perfect husband. There had been, well, incidents, before they’d even tied the knot. Little flirtations, a wandering eye. Marianne probably never even saw them; she’d never said anything, at least. And who was perfect, after all? Love was about accepting each other’s deficiencies and loving them regardless. Papering over their cracks that inevitably reveal themselves after years of matrimony. Everyone is human. Kathy was certainly all woman.
He pushed those thoughts to the back of his head. It was necessary, today of all days. “Get it under control, Jack!” he told himself. The traffic cleared as Jack pulled off the motorway and he put his foot down. He would only be slightly late; she wouldn’t mind at all.
Jack scanned the horizon and could see Marianne there from a distance, already with her mother and father. He grabbed the flowers and made his way over. He was late, but she wouldn’t mind.
“Hello Peter, Margaret. How are you both?” he asked them, standing there looking unimpressed, as ever. Jack felt a prickle of guilt again; he wished he hadn’t turned up late. He turned to his wife. “Happy anniversary, darling,” he said, as he laid the flowers on her grave.
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