在這里祝福你(Wish You were Here)

　　there were teabags all over the table.i didn't have anything else that would have done the job.i don't wear hats.on the back of our wedding photo i had listed the names of places all around england and the world.edinburgh, new york, brighton.paris, sydney, london and many others.taking a pair of nail scissors, i had cut up all of the names into tiny pieces until there were more than 20 slivers of our wedding day in front of me.i scraped all of them off the table and into the empty teabag box.i shock the box about a bit and closed my eyes--don't ask me why--and picked out a sharp slice of photo.i looked at the picture side first.a bit of white puffy meringue wedding dress was evident, but nothing else.i'm surprised there was room in any of the pictures for neil.

　　i put the photo segment on the table, wedding dress up, grabbed one of the teabags from the pile and made myself a cup of tea.i didn't have to rush into revealing the place name.i had all day.after my cup of tea i had a slice of toast, burnt, just how i like it, with jam.still the sliver lay on the table, next to the teabags.i finished my toast and brushed the crumbs from my sweatshirt onto the floor.i'd vacuum before i left in the morn ing.i stood up, then sat down, then stood up again and walked over to the near-empty wardrobe, just to check i hadn't forgotten anything.

　　i decided then to throw out all of the pieces of wedding photo that had not been lucky enough to be selected on this occasion.i took the teabag box to the bin and emptied the contents into it.bits of photo fell, some managed to hit their target, other bits fluttered twisting and turning like those helicopter seeds i played with as a child, on to the bedroom floor.i closed my eyes and didn't want to see any place names that may have landed upwards.by a process of elimination i could have been able to work out what the name waiting on the table was and the whole mission would have to be aborted again.because i'd already done this twice last night and both times i'd had to abort.this morning i found the top of neil's head with manchester written on the back of it in between my toes.i took it as a sign and left it out of the teabag box list.the photo that neil's head had come from had been one of the two of us on a tandem during a break to holland.when the photo had been whole you could see enjoyment over neil's face, whilst my saddle-sore pain couldn't help but show through.it was one of the many differences i should have realized we had from the start.neil always was an outdoors type of guy, always up for a spot of cycling, hiking or rock-climbing.

　　i had tried so hard to join in with everything he enjoyed.he had wanted to sample orienteering and i just couldn't get to grips with that.i had to draw the line somewhere so i told him to go along on his own to join the local group that met every thursday.i encouraged him that it would be good to have something for himself.he did.he had the wife of the instructor.i found an aqua-coloured thong hanging over the lampshade one day when i came in from work.it did not belong to me.i didn't do thongs.i couldn't cycle, hike and everything else neil and i seemed to partake in, wearing a thong.so it could only have meant one of two things--neil had at last found himself an indoor pastime, albeit a strange one, or else there was another woman.i left, karen moved in.into a life of greeny-grey holidays.

　　i had always liked the beach and thought of neil's ideal holiday as greeny-grey.it didn't matter if the sun didn't shine while you were hiking in the lake district--in fact, a light rain made it all the more exhilarating.i yearned for the bright blues, yellows and reds of a beach holiday, but just watching the world go by had never really been neil's bag.so i was a little surprised to get the postcard when it arrived.it showed the rear view of a very sun-tanned man, glistening with oil, standing on a perfect beach wearing only a golden thong.he had his hands on his hips.it had arrived two weeks ago and had read, 'emma.house sold, money in bank.having a great time here in mallorca.neil.ps karen says hello.'no kisses.

　　the money was indeed in the bank.i had a substantial amount in my new single name bank account.i suppose one way that i could look upon my six years with neil was as a kind of complicated saving scheme.i had just let neil take over absolutely everything when we got married, he even decided whereabouts we should live.i wanted old and run down, he wanted new, purpose-built and convenient.

　　i had no emotional attachment to our little starter home and no qualms when i had left the house.karen and neil had waved me off from the doorway.i realised as i looked at them waving that i had very little emotional attachment to neil really, so i'm not sad or sorry for myself, just a little lacking in direction.i savoured my third slice of burnt toast--with jam--and pushed the tiny segment of photo around and around the table with my buttery finger.

　　whatever the name place written on the back of this photo-graph was where i would be heading this time tomorrow.i'd just wash this plate up first.there was still plenty of time.