At 40, I agreed to marry a man with a disabled leg. There was no love between us. On the wedding night, I trembled when I lifted the blanket and discovered a shocking truth. I am Sarah Miller, 40 years old. My youth gradually faded away in unfinished love affairs – some betrayed me, others saw me as a temporary stop.
Every time love broke up, my mother looked at me and sighed:
“Sarah, maybe it’s time to stop chasing perfection. James next door is a good man. He may walk with a limp, but he has a kind heart.”
James Parker is our neighbor – five years older than me. He was disabled in his right leg after a car accident when he was 17. James lives with his elderly mother in a small wooden house in the town of Burlington, Vermont, and works as an electronics and computer repairman. He is quiet, a bit clumsy, but always smiles gently.
It is rumored that James has liked me for many years, but he just didn’t dare say it.
I used to think, at 40 years old, what else can I expect?
Maybe, having a gentle person to lean on is better than being lonely.
So, on a rainy and windy autumn afternoon, I nodded in agreement.
No wedding dress, no fancy party – just a few close friends and a simple dinner.