Chapter Text
Sometimes I forget that I had a husband. And then the thought of Henry tears me apart. Limb from limb, sinew from sinew, cell from cell, atom from atom. Until I don’t exist at all. But I must exist for my son. He is my last reminder of Henry in this world.
My work often takes me away from Arthur, my son, but I need to keep going for him. I remain strong for him, and I use his light to keep me anchored here. I sometimes wonder if he remembers his Dad at all. But then he asks me, “When is Daddy coming home?” And I must say “I don’t know.” I’ll never lie to Arthur; he’s had enough trials in his life already. He doesn’t need any more.
When Arthur was 7, his father went out to work one day and then he just didn’t come home. I called the police, I called his work, I called on his mobile phone. There was no trace of my sweet Henry. He just vanished. I looked at CCTV footage for hours trying to see where he had gone. But there was no trace. He was just on one of the cameras walking home and then he was gone from the next one. I tried all the directions he could have wondered off to, analysing every frame, but no. He was just there one minute and gone the next.
People have tried to tell me that Henry was just rotten to the core and that he left me with a child he didn’t want, leaving me to go to his next fling. I’d be surprised, but I suppose it’s not impossible. I’ve seen enough people where that was their story and the wife just didn’t know. But I expect he’d turn up at my door, let me know about it to my face or post it on Facebook. Henry isn’t wasn’t subtle. I’d know by now. Especially since it’s been a year since he left. He was also not the secretive type. If he was going to get me a nice present for my birthday, I would know what it was 3 months before because he’d mention it in passing or the parcel would arrive with “Clare’s birthday gift” written on the front.
I feel confident that something has happened to my Henry. I keep thinking that the police will find his dead body floating in the Thames or an urn will turn up on my doorstep. But there has been no sign. At this point, I’d like to know so that me and Arthur can get on with our lives
The effect this has had on Arthur is so sad. He used to love going to school with his friends. Now he has none because anyone could go at any second with no reason as to why. The trauma response of a child is heartbreaking, but I will try my best to be strong for him, the way I often have to be.
We live in a small flat in London, just me and Arthur. It’s just about big enough to have two “bedrooms”. More like a small actual bedroom and a little tiny box room that me and Henry renovated when I was expecting. It was always meant to be a temporary measure.
It was my dream to move to somewhere outside of London, to settle down. But we settled here and it slowly became more impossible to move. Juggling Henry’s commute as an engineer with the travel was always going to be a struggle. And he always liked London. But as he became more successful, it was going to become easier. I could quit my therapy job that I’d set up for myself. I could do it a bit more freelance and maybe move into studying an area of psychology that really interested me for a bit. I moved here for him. But now I’m stuck in this tiny flat, with not enough energy to pull myself and Arthur out of this hole we find ourselves in.
I’ve always been distant despite my profession and background as a therapist. Helping my clients deal with their pain` helps me to deal with my own. Some days it is not enough, and I have to take a break, just to cry. But it’s those moments when I’ve really helped someone that I remind myself that there is light at the end of the tunnel. It’s Arthur and he’s reaching out to me. He, at least, thinks I’m wonderful.