It’s five years since I went to university, again, so I guess I owe you an update.

University was great, and studying again, this time not with an eye some future employment, but just because I wanted to know more about the subject was, well, quite nice as there was no pressure. And off course living with Tom was great too. Each day waking up with him, kissing each other good morning, those lazy days when we could grab them, and just being together made me happy.

For me, being at university was, well, easy. If you’ve ever done a a masters degree you will know what I mean when I say that an undergraduate degree after that is a bit of a walk in the park. Some of it was hard, and you’ll be pleased to know that group work is still nightmare, but I had a lot of free time really and this gave me a chance to learn how to be a young woman. I made friends, but unlike them I knew that once we graduated and went our separate ways we would slowly lose touch, so while the friendships were intense, they were never going to be lasting.

But my journey in becoming a young woman had some drawbacks for Tom. No, I didn’t sleep around, and my uni friends did wonder why I was with an older man but I had no intention of telling them the truth. One did ask if he was my teacher, which really made me laugh and I think helped to convince them that he wasn’t. But going clubbing again was a lot of fun, drinking at one of their student housings, being out late at night, this is what caused some problems.

You see Tom was doing a PhD, and they are pretty intense, more so than a masters degree and compared to the few hours I needed to do each week, I was on holiday compared to him. None of my coursework took a lot of time, but for Tom it consumed all of his. He still got to hang out with the others doing PhDs, but unlike me he was pretty much on his own with it and from what I could work out they were mostly moaning sessions.

And all while I was having a great time and out partying.

I won’t say we were arguing, but there was some friction, and in the start of the second year when his research was really building up the pressure on him, I was, well, a little immature.

One night while he was buried in his laptop reading academic journals he said, “It’s quite easy for you all this isn’t it.”

I was busy typing away at that moment, lost in my own thoughts of my coursework, all so I could go to a party the next night, so I just replied, “Huh?”

He said, “The workload, it’s quite light compared to this.”

Well, this did not make me happy at all. Yes, it was light compared to him, but I was also paying all the bills as there was no way his stipend would give us both a nice flat. Plus I had the constant fear someone would call me out for who I was, or I would slip up when talking about my previous experience instead of calling it something I just read.

I slammed my laptop shut, stood up, pointed to myself and said, “You think all of this is easy for me? You think I don’t have any pressure? You try and explain away the things I know already. Fuck you!”

And I stormed out. Ten seconds later I stopped and looked at my phone, expecting the call from him to say sorry for being so thoughtless, but after a minute of waiting for it I turned my phone off and walked away, wishing I had picked up my car keys and just left him and all of this for good.

I walked the streets, a stupid thing to do at night, but I was so angry at him so not thinking clearly. Did he not see how much I was supporting him in this? Did he not notice that I did everything for him so he could keep doing his research? Did I ever complain about the fact we hardly ever spent time out together of the occasional date as he was always studying?

I kept walking and kept thinking about it, no plan on where I was going or why. I looked at my watch and I had been walking for about an hour and only sort of knew where I was, so I stopped and began to retrace my steps. No matter what I would have to go back to get my stuff before I left him for good. Maybe move into a hotel for a bit or even just quit the course and go home.

But home is now with him, here.

I started to speed up my walk, I wanted to get home to say sorry. The little bit of stress I felt was nothing compared to what he is going through. I saw a landmark I recognised, and changed direction to walk home as quickly as I could so I could apologise in person. Long before I got there I heard Tom calling my name, spinning me around to to see where he was and I ran to him, pulling him into a hug as the tears started flowing, saying “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, please forgive me, I’m just a stupid girl.”

But I don’t think he heard me as he was saying to me, ‘sorry’ over and over again with tears in his eyes. We both stopped speaking at the same time, kissed and both started saying ‘sorry’ again, and we started to laugh.

I said, “I’m sorry, I should have been more thoughtful of you. I’m just a little bitch sometimes.”

He kissed the tip of my nose and said, “Ditto.”

We hugged in silence and I said, “Yeah, but we’re each others little bitch.”

We started walking back and he asked me why I didn’t answer his calls, and I said, “You never called me.”

He looked a bit confused and I took my phone out of my pocket to show him the screen, and I said, “Or I might have turned my phone off when you didn’t phone me the second I walked out. Sorry.”

As I turned my phone on and hundreds of notifications of missed calls and texts came through, he said his phone was in the bathroom so he had to look for it first. I started looking at the texts, which were a lot of ‘sorry’s’ and ‘please come back I love you’.

Even though he was walking right next to me, holding my hand, I sent him a text back saying, ‘This was the worst hour of my life. Let’s not break up again.” I heard his phone vibrate and he gave my hand a squeeze and said, “I will read it later.”

After that mini break up, we made sure we had at least one date night a week where we would go out, maybe to the cinema, ten pin bowling, a restaurant or anything we could think of that would help us remind each other why we liked each other. As well as that, we made sure that we had at least two lunch dates each week, but always changing the days to make sure we never fell into any patterns to keep it as fresh as we could.

And I cut down on my partying with the girls on my course, never more than once a month. They probably thought I was already turning into a housewife, but that wasn’t the case. Tom had been there for me when I needed a friend so badly, he put up with me sleeping around as I, well, grew up, so I was here for Tom, supporting him during his difficult time.

And we survived it all, leading to the last few months of our time here where I was prepping for my final project and dissertation and Tom was getting ready for his Viva. He stopped reading and said, “Oh shit! Look at this.”

I lent over to read the email over his shoulder and said, “Oh wow. What are you going to say back?”

“Right now, nothing, they can wait two days as they say it’s on condition of me getting my doctorate, and I really need to focus on that without adding any extra pressure.”

So I made him a cup of tea while he tried to focus but I could see he was clearly thinking about it, or at least trying not, so I picked up his thesis and started asking him questions. It helped to bring him back into focusing on the immediate issue, passing.

After that night I made myself as scarce as possible while he kept his focus up while being as supportive as I could be. I don’t think he noticed I was always nearby him to give support the moment I thought he needed it, staying out of his way the rest of the time.

I drove him to his viva, but never went in with him, instead waiting outside till I knew it had started then went and sat outside the room, sitting there quietly and glad I couldn't hear anything. An hour and half passed until the door opened and he stepped out, surprised to see me. He said, “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you. What did they say?”

He sat down next to me and said, “They told me to wait out here while they chat and will call me back in when they’re ready.”

I took hold of his hand and intertwined my fingers in his his and said, “Then we can wait together.”

We sat there in silence for half an hour when the door opened and a women stepped out and said, “You can come back in now Doctor.”

I probably had the biggest smile on my face that I’ve ever had, watching Tom as he stood up and looked at me and said, “Wish me luc…”

Then his head turned back to the woman at the door and he saw her smile and she nodded at him. I felt all the stress and pressure he had been under just disappearing and he turned back to me, but I shooed him on his way, very happy for him.

My very own doctor.

He passed with no corrections, and now had bugger all to do other than spoil me. The sex that night wasn’t great, he was too tied to last for long and he fell asleep underneath me as he came. But he made it up to me several times the next day, and I’m amazed I didn’t end up with bow legs, but I was very sore in plenty of places. It was a special occasion, so I was ready to try something new, and while I think it might take a while to get used to it, I liked it.

I submitted my final project and we went back home, but this time we both went to my house as he was still renting out his own. Jane was there and had made quite a home for herself and I was ok with that and while it must have been hard on her having a couple there, Tom moved in with me. We had nothing to do other than discuss the future, in particular the email he received. They sent him another one the day after his viva and it seemed they must have heard as it began with congratulations, but he had a job offer and we needed to talk about it as it would mean moving, He began talking to them, and I could see he was interested in it, which really wasn’t a problem to me, after all, I am technically retired.

We went back for the graduation ceremony, booking a hotel and his mum and dad came along. I’d met them quite a few times and while they didn’t know everything about me, they had been told I was older than I look and we had picked an age for me of 23. I really liked his parents, his mum was of course suspicious of me, but a shopping trip where I brought her an expensive antique that she liked as a present showed I wasn’t after him for his earning potential. I had to confess that I had a lot more money than him, which really helped win her over.

In the morning it was my graduation, seeing the others from my course and having a glass of champagne with them afterwards was a nice way to end the whole experience, and Annette was right, I did need to find a new place for myself and I think I have. Maybe I will be a bit of a housewife to Tom, but I also had something I wanted to do now, and I could do it anywhere that he was.

In the afternoon I was there for Tom, sitting in the auditorium as he was hooded and I whooped and hollered louder than everyone else. That evening we went out for a meal with his parents and we talked about the job offer he had received and what it would mean for the future. They fully supported him and his mum even made some comments about it being a nice place to bring up kids. He gave me a look and I just gave him a smile and a shrug. It wasn’t something I had thought about seriously before, but could I be a mother?

Turns out the smile and shrug was a mistake as Tom was worried I was pregnant already, but I reminded him that I have an IUD in, and we are not quite at the point of having that conversation just yet. Tom accepted the job offer, which then meant we had a few visits to the embassy to sort out visas, which included a long conversation about my date of birth and why I had no interest in getting a job or the need for one. There were a few letters from the hospital and Annette in support of me, and we were approved.

We decided to rent a place to get by at the start while I went looking for somewhere we could call home, and that became my job. I looked at a lot of places, but I think I knew where I wanted to live, I had rollerbladed in the area quite a lot in the past, and I found a house I really liked in Marina City, just along the beach from Venice in Los Angeles, not directly on the beach but with a view of it from the roof terrace. I fell in love with it, taking Tom there there next day to have a look, and offering the asking price to the realtor there and then.

Tom worked in one of the universities, mostly doing research but with a little teaching. He wasn’t happy about the last part as he really wanted to get away from it but as he had experience in the field they really wanted him to do this and the money was good. Sadly he lost all the advantages of being in Europe and paid holiday time. I still can’t quite understand why Americans seem to be so happy with so little paid time off from work.

Anyway, we settled into life there, got to know the neighbours (one of whom are quite famous but I won’t name them here), and we had a good life. About a year after moving I was walking through Walmart doing some shopping when something caught my eye on someones tee shirt. I followed the man who was wearing it, walking up to him and with my eyes focused on it said, “Excuse me, sir, where did you get the Poppy?”

He was wearing a Poppy from the Royal British Legion and I was thinking he might be Canadian as I think they wear them too around Armistice Day, I wanted one as well. It might make me stand out over here in the states, but I was very aware that I won’t be going to Remembrance Sunday this year while living here. While you might think that it was part of my old life, it’s one part I don’t think I will ever give up.

I looked up at the man and my eyes went wide. He said, “Oh, you’re English. I sent off for a few from the British Legion office over here. Let me find the address.”

He took his phone out of his pocket and I said, “Have you got time for a coffee?”

He looked back at me and was clearly wondering why a young woman was hitting on a man in his fifties, when I added, “And then I can explain why I know you’re called Mac.”

It was his turn for his eyes to go wide, so I pushed my trolly away from me, embarrassed about abandoning everything for a staff member to put back, but trying to make it clear I wanted to talk to him. He said, “How do you know my name?”

“Let’s get a coffee Mac and I will explain.”

And I walked towards the exit to go over the road to Starbucks and I felt him following me. Once seated, I said, “Do you have any photos on you from when you were in the army?”

He took his phone out and started looking, telling me he might have, finding some and showing them to me until he got to one I recognised. I said, “That’s you Mac, that’s Smithy, Johnny, Harry, Howie, Dobbo, and Pat.”

I looked at him and waited to see what he would say, and I took my phone out and searched for one of the news articles about me when it was first reported that I changed, laying it on the table for him to see as I said, “And the last one is Lew. I go by Louise now.”

He looked at my phone and the photo, then at me and back at the photo and opened his mouth to speak and I said, “Don’t tell me it’s bollocks. Ask any question you want.”

He sat there looking at me, then said, “Me, Lew and Howie went to bar in Amsterdam, what happened.”

I started to laugh, and said, “Oh, you want to go there. Ok, but I’m keeping my voice down.”

Then I told a story about how a stripper made a challenge that no one could live up, but that Howie had diarrhoea from drinking too much and could live up to the challenge and we got kicked out. Then he asked a question about a particular exercise we did and before he got any further I said, “…and I provided cover for you as you acted as the phantom turd burglar. We’ve never told anyone it was you.”

He sat back in his chair and said, “What’s my job?”

“I helped you get a job as a photographer when you left the army ten years after me. Last I heard you had started doing some videography, so I guess you might still be doing that.”

He sat there looking at me for a minute and said, “Shit, is it really you?”

We spent an hour in there just chatting while I explained everything and it felt good. Here was someone from my past that I knew I could trust, that chance had put us back together and while it didn’t feel like old times, it felt familiar. We went back and did our shopping and he followed me home where I think I shocked him even more by introducing him to Tom. Mac needed to leave to get up early the next day for a advertising shoot he was working on, but we agreed to meet up again before he left for the UK. I said to him, “Please don’t tell anyone else. That’s an old part of my life and while I will never forget it, it doesn't feel a part of me anymore.”

He actually gave me a hug and said, “You will always be my oppo. I got your back.”

He had one night in LA after the shoot before he flew back and we went out to bar, walking in and he said to the barman, “Listen mate, we’re Brits, this is how we drink, we don’t have a problem. Keep them coming until we fall over. And when we go to the bog, we’re not throwing up, just making space for more.”

It was a good night, and Tom came and picked me up as I really can’t drink like I used to, plus I’m smaller than Mac so it was a mistake to try and keep up with him. Tom held my hair for me when I was throwing up, and laughing at me in the morning as I promised that it was just a goodbye to an old life and will never happen again.

I did stay in touch with Mac as he was often in LA, and one day he came with me and Tom when we went to Las Vegas and got married. Mac thought I was going to ask him to give me away, but I said I just wanted someone on my side as I was very, very nervous. Me and Tom had been talking about this for a while now, originally going to do it back in the UK, but then we thought lets just do it now. So here I am, a bride, standing in the chapel with Tom as my groom, and Elvis doing the ceremony, with Mac as my maid of honour (I told him that after the service, and I think he was quite proud of it really).

When I fell pregnant, I had to go home as there were a lot of worries about what a pregnancy would mean for me, so at the last possible moment I flew home without Tom so that my doctors, the team who looked after me at the start could be there. The midwife had to be brought on board for this so she understood all the potential issues. Jane was amazing and took some time off work to look after me, even though I kept trying to get her to leave me alone. But everything was going well, apart from missing Tom like mad. We talked a few times every day, and Jane used to tell him off from the other room if he woke me up. When it was time, I texted Tom and screw the expense, I arranged a private jet to get him here as quickly as possible and he arrived twenty minutes before I gave birth to a baby girl. Jane came along to visit, so did Jackie the nurse, the first time I saw her since I was released from hospital, Annette was there and told me my little girl was beautiful, and as I held her I cried. I loved her so much already. Mac turned up to see me at home after Tom had to go back to work and he became a godfather on the spot. Of course, I had to explain him away as an old family friend to Tom’s mum who wouldn’t leave me alone, but as soon as we could both fly, we went back home to LA and Tom, my little girl and me.

She’s a year old now, and thankfully napping in the next room, as I have a deadline to meet. You see, when I went back to university, almost on a whim I picked Creative Writing as a degree to study. I quite like it, and was actually published while still at university with a selection of short stories. I don’t make the top sellers lists, but I sell enough to keep the publishers happy with printing a few copies, while most get sold as e-books.

What’s my pen name? Well, that would be telling, but I will say that I am happier than I have ever been in my life. This new me is a big improvement on the old me. And if you’re interested, the entire medical team asked the age old question. What hurts more, getting kicked in the balls or childbirth?

I always give the same answer, kidney stones.

The End.