jml297

If you’d told me a week ago that I’d be here, in the local park, sitting on a bench and crying, I would have laughed in your face. But that’s where I found myself this morning, looking unkempt and sobbing like my heart was breaking. Which it was.

I wasn’t even sure how I ended up here, slippers sodden from the morning dew, my hair still twisted from sleep. But after Dan’s declaration this morning, my instincts sent me flying from the house, dressing gown flapping. I hadn’t been to this park in years, not since the kids outgrew the outdoor equipment. That seemed a lifetime ago.

As my heaving sobs began to ease, I took in the surroundings, grateful for the solitude. The park was a bit worn, like me. We lived in a cul-de-sac, and it was one of those spaces that only locals seemed to know about.

I closed my eyes, grateful for a hint of winter sunshine. Then the seat shifted, and I opened my eyes, startled to see a woman sitting beside me. Instinctively, I shuffled along the bench, not yet ready to return home, but mindful of a stranger suddenly in my space. She had two takeaway cups on a tray, and the aroma of hot coffee wrapped around me like an embrace. The woman smiled, reached one of the cups towards me and inclined her head towards it.

‘Latte, one sugar. Just the way you like it.’

I shook my head, perplexed. The coffee was tempting, but how could I trust a stranger? And how did she know how I liked my coffee? She jiggled the cup slightly and I took it. I was about to ask who she was, and why she was here, when she pulled something out of a bag. It was a small kitchen timer in a retro-style with large numbers. I watched, fascinated, as she turned the dial to five minutes.

‘Ask me anything before it rings — I know the answers.’

I opened my mouth, then closed it. The timer was ticking, a steady beat that filled the air between us. She sipped her coffee, then quirked an eyebrow at me.

‘Do I know you?’

The woman gently shook her head. ‘No. But I know you.’

I shrugged, still at a loss as to what was happening. ‘Who are you? Why are you here?’

‘Let’s just say that I’m someone who can help you. I’m here because you need someone to talk to, to help you make sense of what’s happening in your life.’

And then, I knew what this must be about. For a heartbeat, I thought of taking the lid off the coffee and throwing it at her smiling face. ‘It’s you!’ I yelled, my voice filling the space. ‘You’re the reason Dan’s leaving.’

But the stranger shook her head, her eyes on the slippery slide that had seen better days. ‘Not true,’ she said.

My mind scanned for the right question to ask, the one that would untangle the knots that bound me so tight. The timer ticked faster now. The air around me felt thick, the coffee cup trembled in my hand as I turned to the stranger, my voice a whisper.

‘How can I fix this?’

This was written to a prompt with the following parts: a stranger, a bench, a 5-minute timer. ‘Ask me anything before it rings — I know the answers.’

Photo: kitchen timer