Love thy neighbour

Visiting relatives is never easy, but neighbours are far worse if you are one of the unlucky ones that grew up in a community that minds everybody else's business and creates norms out of their own lives.
When I decided to leave my hubby, I was dreading telling my father. I left it so late that the divorce was almost through and he has long moved out.
My dad took it relatively calmly...he was mostly silent on the phone but later I found out from my step mum that he never recovered from my treachery. I had to personally take the photograph of me on my wedding day with my hubby out of the book cabinet displaying family photographs a year after my divorce.

I never realised what is a responsibility of a married woman till I was foolish enough to get married myself.
They leave you alone for a couple of months and then the paradigm questions start:
"So are you pregnant yet?" and then as the time goes on, many variations on the same theme..."Any children?"
When you say no, not yet, they immediately assume that you are trying and can't get pregnant so there is concern as well as sadness in their eyes when they reassure you with: "Don't worry, it will happen, there is still time, you are young."
It is completely futile explaining that contraception is sometimes accountable for not having any kids, family planning clinics liberating modern women and so on, it is best to smile and go along with the story that makes me married, settled and sadly unproductive...

Anyway, so I was unlucky enough to meet a neighbour that I haven't seen for ages. His two daughters married at 19 and both blessed him with two grandchildren each with strong, macho men, their lives just perfect, their obligation fulfilled....now they can rest, attend to the nest and drink coffee with friends from work and occasionally dream of a fox fur trim for their coats they saw on QVC.
I always felt as if I was an outsider, failing him by not having any news for him when I was married but I actually thought that he was ready to drop dead of a heart attack after a conversation we had today.
It started by him asking me how is life in London and me making usual small talk that I have perfected by now, such as...ah it is hard, people are so different, I miss being here etc...Truth is, it is always easier giving old people what they want to hear, it makes them feel secure and they eventually die happy ( my theory anyway ).
Then the inevitable happens...the questions about children. Not only have I not procreated since he last saw me, I divorced my hubby, and I must tell him that, there is no way out now.
He seems oddly concerned at first, and I feel elated, thinking that this will be uncomplicated...
Was he abusive, was he beating me, was he a drunk, was I unhappy???
Hmmm, not exactly, he was quite a nice guy with no major dysfunctions...but how do you explain to someone of that generation that women these days want more, they wanna be listened to, want to have someone with ambition, drive, passion, someone that will set their worlds on fire...I mean, even as I write it, it makes me snigger, so how do I tell this to someone like my grandfather...Actually, he'd understand, he married the love of his life and they were a perfect match but how do I explain this to the rest of the grandfathers...

He looks at me with disenchantment, puzzled even, as I explain how it is best to go separate ways if your life paths are not compatible etc...
I am not winning him over with that, OK, time to be smart, show him I am still the same girl, the go getter, smart-arse tomboy he knows, that always did well....
I bought a house from my ex, I say, waiting for some sort of appraisal, but instead his face, spread in a grimace that is supposed to symbolize a smile but for some reason looks as if I just took his own house from him, tells me that he just feels sorry for my ex, made homeless by me, presumably.
The fact that I had to find a mortgage broker to arrange special mortgage without declaring my income to cough up almost 50 K to pay my ex out of the mortgage is too big a concept for him to grasp so I abandon it.
I passed my exam in Cognitive Psychology...only have a bit left and I have my BSc (Hons) in Social science and psychology, I say. All of that whilst working. I have many plans I want to try...
He looks at me and says that I was always very antsy, very interested in different things, but I can read between the lines that this statement means nothing to him.
I think he can also feel the discomfort of our conversation and he tries to fix it somehow, so he asks how my ex is. I am glad the spotlight is off me and I tell him my ex has met a girl, got her pregnant and has become a father all in just over a year.
I am sure he will think that highly irresponsible thing, having come from Catholic upbringing, having lived through socialism, family values and all that, the damnation of having a child out of wedlock...there are so many things that could be applied here.
But I can see he is pleased with the news, ah the baby girl for my ex, shotgun wedding planned for when the bride is capable of fitting into a dress...that is just dandy.

He is trying to hide his satisfaction in front of me, but I can see it, I can see it in his condemnation of my life, the foolish ways I have chosen and I can read in his eyes that he believes I was the devil that held my ex from the right path of secret vowels of marriage.
I quickly made my escape before the conversation got worse somehow, I was getting suicidal thoughts, but I wondered for the rest of the hour if he was right...