November, 30th
Margaret:
The past four months have been hectic - so many things crammed themselves into just fifteen weeks that in retrospect seems to have been much longer a lapse. It is hard to believe that only six months ago my life was so different, so dull and boring and self centered. I couldn't have possibly anticipated the incredible turn it took that summer night when John simply showed up at Edith's dinner, and that lunch two days later that prolonged itself for the rest of the weekend.
Sometimes I feel like we're still at that lunch. And sometimes I can hardly remember what life was like before John kissed me under the dusky sky at Postman's Park, what it felt not being able to call him on a whim or not holding him when we met. Not that it matters now, of course, it's just that I feel that kiss marked the moment when it all really began.
John went back to Milton and has visited London just once; it's been me who's racked up air miles on planes from London to Greater Manchester. The first time I stayed in a hotel, but then I simply rented a furnished two-bedroom flat. John has a key and goes often; he says it's because it's closer to the Mills but I suspect he likes being there.
I met Hannah Thornton, my future mother-in-law, whom I wish I had met before. She and John are a lot like each other in character (and a bit in looks too), and getting to know her makes me feel even closer to John. I also met Fanny and Robert, my future sister-in-law and her husband and their little son Leo, who are very nice but quite different to John and Hannah. Maybe appearances are deceptive or maybe it's the complex nature of the human soul. Hannah offered me her home but I declined hoping that I wouldn't hurt her feelings, and I think John interceded for me there.
I'm getting involved with the Milton Chamber of Commerce's Committee on Social Welfare, finally getting something quite like a job in my area of studies - it's not a paid position but currently that's not of foremost importance for me. Policy making is quite complicated, the equilibrium of the forces very delicate, but it's where I like to be. After much discussion and planning we created a plan for funding adult learning scholarships, and Bessy will probably be one of its first beneficiaries. This fund allows her and another employee to work half day each and attend classes in a technical school. So far it only exists in paper but it holds promise.
Marlborough Mills Repair Shop is scheduled to reopen its doors next Monday with most of its previous employees, many of whom have been attending training courses on new technologies. I have tried to understand exactly what it is all about but I confess I have a hard time with it. John laughs and says I shouldn't worry much, and then proceeds to showing me his most basic books on machines, the ones he's had since he was a child. Oh John, you would have been so happy during the industrial revolution!
Most of the time I feel somewhere between pure contentment and sheer bliss but there are also a few rare moments of utter despair. I believe it's residual grief, the sad fact that I miss my parents and I wish they were here with me. I try to find comfort in the thought that they would be happy for me but it makes me cry a lot instead.
And I also suspect that these tears have to do with John, with the fact that I can be vulnerable around him and not always have to be the strong one. That, even if he doesn't really understand why I'm crying and that he absolutely hates seeing me in such state, he doesn't try to distract me from my grief by taking me shopping or saying nonsense. He doesn't say a thing; he just holds me, kisses the top of my head and gives me his handkerchief, and after the worst has passed he makes some tea. It feels like I'm finally completing the cycle of mourning, is such thing exists, where the only piece missing was John.
I love him so much.
December, 31st
John:
Margaret has moved permanently to Milton. She still keeps her very pretty home in London but most of the time she's here, coming home with me, going to bed with me, waking up every morning next to me. The sense of wonder doesn't wane.
Sometimes it feels like a fairy tale, borrowed time until lights are up and the movie finished or the last word of the book puts an end to it, until the next minute comes, and the next hour and next evening and she's still here, and there are things to do which always have to do with her, and I realize that this is not a fairy tale, just a wonderful time in my life I'm living to its fullest.
It is funny to remark, I think, that living life to its fullest doesn't involve anything in particular other than lack of regret. I got rid of a heavy burden I didn't know I was carrying; it was liberating to finally come into terms with my father's death and everything it entailed, to forgiving and forgetting Chloe, to every unsavory and unpalatable truth I've had to face because they lead me to Margaret. In this life where chaos and disorder reign, I got her. It cannot get any fuller than this.
We're spending this New Year's holiday in Edinburgh, a city I've visited often but Margaret hasn't. We had dinner at the hotel and then, closer to midnight, went off to the streets to see the fireworks. We're surrounded by people in thick coats, just like ourselves, and everyone starts counting down. In a flash I remember last year's eve, and I smile to my old lovelorn self who wouldn't have dared to hope to have so much only twelve months later.
-"Twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
January, 1st
Margaret spins around and I kiss her, and then I pull away just a little while I fish the box from my right pocket, flip it open and ask her:
-"Would you marry me?"