When your other half can’t say no to a plea for help, time together becomes something rare and precious
BY SARAH SWATRIDGE
Mark was late home. If there was a problem, large or small, you can guarantee Mark would be first to volunteer his help. That’s why I fell for him.
I’d like to say it was what made me notice him in the first place, but that wouldn’t be true. You see, he’s got a red birthmark on his face, just below his right eye. Why his parents christened him Mark, I can’t imagine.
“Sorry, love,” he said, about an hour later. “This old guy was by the side of the road; he’d got a puncture. I couldn’t just walk by . . .”
I kissed him. What else could I have done? I mean, you can’t help loving a chap who is generous and kind.
Mark and I met at university. While everyone else was enjoying the social life, we spent our weekends at the soup kitchen or running a tea bar for the homeless in the centre of town. I’m not complaining, and I wouldn’t change things for the world.
I’m a nurse, so I suppose it’s expected that I’m nice to people and naturally a helpful person, and that I might marry someone similar. But Mark’s helpfulness is infectious and I’m sure I’m a better person because of him.
This year is our silver wedding anniversary and I’d really like to have him to myself. I hope that doesn’t sound selfish – but if you’d shared your loved one with the community for nearly a quarter of a century, maybe you would feel the same.
Even on our honeymoon, he helped out a couple whose luggage had gone astray. We ended up sharing all our belongings and made two new friends.
I flicked through the holiday brochure, looking at the adult-only hotels where you could have a little thatched hut on the end of a jetty. Imagine waking up in the morning to a brilliant blue sky and matching sea. The hotel could set up a table for two on the beach with candles and discreet service.
I tried to picture Mark gazing into my eyes, taking hold of my hand and whispering he loved me, but somehow the vision of a shark attack in the background kept getting in the way and I knew it wouldn’t work. Someone would need his assistance and, rightly, he’d go.
Having studied business and marketing at uni, he’d worked for a charity for years raising money for youngsters and giving them a better chance in life. Then he’d qualified as a paramedic. It was the perfect job for him.
