November, 16th

Margaret:

I allowed myself four months of reclusive mourning. Today marks four months since my father died and today is the first day I get actively back into things.

This morning I opened my calendar and set appointments with everyone I've been avoiding. Sylvia. Henry. A message for Dolores and a call to Bessy. I'm reasonably healthy so Edith and Ian too will hear from me. Old friends from school. Dipped my toe in the job market by reading listings.

I'll start using the clothes my aunt brought me from her shopping trip. Aunt Anna is the best shopper there could be, she can buy just anything for anyone and it's always going to be perfect in size, cut, color and style. My new wardrobe looks just like the previous one if only a little higher end. I am certain she had to fight my cousin for this; the only sequined items are a pair of slippers and a shawl.

Today is Wednesday. This afternoon I'm going to a salon to get my hair cut. I used to love my jaw length bob but it grew and I still like it, so it's not going to be a radical change. Maybe I'll get a manicure too but I'll draw the line before make up and eyebrows plucking.

Next Friday I'm meeting Henry at the Lennoxes, and on Sunday I'm having lunch with Mel and Sylvia. I know this rush of energy may stay with me only the rest of the morning but I'll ride it while it last.

November, 18th

Tonight I met and spoke to Henry for the first time since he proposed marriage and I broke off with him entirely. He came to my father's funeral but it doesn't count, not to me at last.

I admit I've missed him and his caustic wit. Back before we started dating we would discuss films and books; it always seemed that we liked the same things and I truly enjoyed talking to him. This Henry is the same I knew before we dated.

Relentlessly polite and funny, it's hard to know what's going on exactly on behind the mask. I don't consider Henry to be an hypocrite, that's not a good word, he's... reserved. Whatever the matter he rather keeps it to himself. I never saw him openly frustrated or out of his mind, and not because I don't believe him to experience those feelings but because he keeps himself on a short leash.

I confess I really enjoy being with this Henry. He doesn't mention dating again, he seems honestly interested in me and I respect his privacy. I know there are things simmering beneath the quiet surface of his nonchalance but I consider him my friend even if he doesn't want to share. That's alright. Everyone are different and I don't mind that.

In a way it's like picking up where we left off, or better yet, some good time before then. From now on I'll progressively let my defenses down around Henry because I'm really at ease with him. We'll go to the cinema, to exhibits (he's my only acquaintance to have known about Sylvia independently), he'll recommend a yoga instructor, and from time to time, for lunch.

I don't believe he is weighing his time, trying to win me back. Our relationship wasn't fit for marriage then... was it because we were younger and immature? I don't know.