Preparing for Her Arrival

The King’s Road, London, UK

Male, age 30

Soon she’ll be here, and everything has to be perfect. A new life in my hands; her new life. It’s a huge undertaking to give up her friends, family and entire life, and move across the Atlantic Ocean to cold and rainy London… but she’s doing it, and she’s doing it for me.

We met in Santiago 5 years ago. I was looking for adventure after my university studies and had taken a job there to gain some experience and see a bit more of the world. I was young and carefree, and certainly hadn’t banked on meeting a wife, but then one day I jumped on a bus after work to escape the incessant rain of a Chilean June, and there she was. She looked up at me with the biggest eyes I had ever seen and I remember thinking, or hoping, that she’d say something poignant. Instead her first words were “Tu paraguas está goteando sobre mi libro. Por favor muévelo” … “Please could you move your umbrella? It’s dripping on my book.”

I took the same bus every day for the next 2 weeks in hope of seeing her, and finally one day she was there and the rain had stopped. I started talking about the weather and the rest, as they say, was history. Falling in love with a local girl fitted perfectly with my South American adventure and she was always excited to show me new places, teach me new things, take me to parties to meet her friends and family.  I made her pasta as she finished her university dissertation and helped her pass the English exam to get the prestigious job at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. We were inseparable and it all moved along so easily… That was, until it was time for me to come home and start my real, ‘grown-up’ life. Through tears, we parted ways. It was the right thing to do. We were young, it had been fun, but our worlds were so different.

Over three years went by. I didn’t think I would miss her as much as I did, but as I got on with the daily grind of commuting, banking and drinks in the pub after work, I couldn’t help feeling my life was incomplete. The sporadic emails and messages we exchanged quickly became highlights and points of reference in my calendar. I would remember I went to this meeting on that day because I got a message from her in the taxi there. Then one day last year a work trip was to take me back to Santiago. She was at the airport waiting for me with a sign she’d made. I knew I had to be with her.

Life presented us with two choices: either I was to move to Chile and take a step back in my career, or she was to move to London and take a step back in her career. We chose the latter, and set a date to be married. The paperwork was insane, and the bureaucracy far outweighed the romance. It was a far cry from the fairytale wedding she has secretly wished for her entire life, but the only way she could move here and for us to be together was by signing a paper in that registry office that day.

Now she is arriving. She lands tonight and my nerves are getting the better of me. I have tidied my flat and have spent all morning running around the King’s Road, picking up things to make it cozier, more welcoming. She has only left Chile once before, and now she is moving here. What happens if she doesn’t like it? My mind is racing with questions. Will she settle in and make friends? Will she find a job? Will she be happy? Will I be enough to make up for not having her family around? Will I be enough to make sure she doesn’t resent giving up her career? Would she have married me if she didn’t have to? Would I have married her if I didn’t have to?

The pressure is on. I have to make her happy. I have to make this work. Everything has to be perfect.