After Gar died I was obviously redundant. No longer needed to look after her, I didn’t have a role in Anthony’s life in any pragmatic way. So, once again, and again, and again, I left the situation.
I worked on a sheep station up north; I worked in London as a nanny; I began and finished a nursing qualification; I worked as a waitress at a pancake restaurant; I worked at hostels for people who had multiple disabilities; I worked in nursing homes: I worked in the hospital where I had trained; I worked as a live-in carer for the wealthy mother of an entrepreneur, Alan Bond; I worked day and night shifts at a respite house for the disabled.
And every single second of every hour of every day of all of my working life during this period of time was consumed into a vacuum of despair and hope in equal parts. My whole being was shattered by the fact that Anthony was with this other woman because, by then, he and I had become secretly romantic. At 23, I was no longer too young. I was eager, he was reticent, were both confused. Nevertheless, we started to ‘date’ on the sly.
In a sense, all of my dreams had come true. Anthony and I were now romantically entwined. But he still had the more age-appropriate girl-friend, the other woman.
It took me a few years to realize that it was me who was the other woman.
jmgoyder 
paradigm shift
This is one of your best written segments. I’m always curious about the writing process for others. How long does it take to hone a piece like this? For me, a dilettante, I do little more than proof read before publishing; so, I’m always impressed when I read more carefully crafted compositions. Oh, and love stories (not bodice rippers) are my guilty pleasure.
That had to be so difficult being the the other woman when you were actually the woman
You are so clever in the way you end each chapter with a powerful sentence.
I liked this, you and Ants were meant to be
Another page turner! Real life, well yours anyway, sure is stranger than fiction!