St Dwynwen's Day

Today is St Dwynwen's Day in Wales. She is the patron saint of love. Click here for her story. 
And today's story from me is a modern day version of this myth. 

For audio click here

St Dwynwen's Day

Donwen had cried all day and all night and all day again. Her tears had been hot and salty, but now they were pure gin. She sniffed back a fresh batch. She really didn’t want to cry anymore. The problem was everything set her off. She turned on the radio, and there was a soppy love song. She turned on Facebook, and there was his gorgeous face looking at her. She wandered around the streets of Swansea, and everything reminded her of him; the pub where they’d first kissed; the bar they’d celebrated the Grand Slam; the shop where he bought his t-shirts; everywhere had a significance.

That’s why she had come into the church. She hadn’t been in a church for about fifteen years, and she’d never been to one with Mal; so there was nothing here to remind her of her lovely but now ex boyfriend. It was cold in here but peaceful. For a moment, sitting on that pew, she felt at peace with the world.  It was almost as if God himself was massaging her shoulders and drying her tears with his hanky. She slipped off the pew onto the praying cushion and putting her hands together she bowed her head and prayed.

“Please god help me forget him and make my toes warm.”

When she left the church, she felt a bit stupid. Who on earth prays to god these days? But somehow she felt as though a weight had been lifted. For a start the rain had stopped and her toes weren’t quite as cold, but now she had another problem; she was running late. She was meant to be meeting Angelica for a drink. She hurried through the streets; she could feel her gin level getting low.  

Walking home was taking a lot of effort. Maybe she’d had one too many gins, but Angelica had insisted on paying for one last one, and who was Donwen to say no? She could feel herself swaying but despite the cold weather, her toes were still warm. Walking home should have reminded her of Mal, but as she walked past the pub instead of thinking of him, she remembered the time Kate, Louise and her had been thrown out for reaching over the bar and topping up their beer glasses. When she walked past the bar, she remembered the time Cary had thrown up all over the bouncer. And when she got to the t-shirt shop she remembered how her brother Bill had smashed the window of the burger place next to it, in some drunken rage. In fact she didn’t think of Mal at all. And then she fell; well she would have done if she hadn’t been caught by an arm.

“Are you okay?” The mouth attached to the arm said.

“I’m fine,” she slurred. ‘Who are you?”

“I’m Rod.”

“God,” Donwen misheard. “I think I prayed to you today.”

Rod laughed. “Looks like you still need my help.”

“I wish I was at home.” Donwen said.

“Come on then. Where do you live?” Donwen told him and Rod guided her home.

“Wanna come in?” Donwen said when they got there.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Rod said. “But if you want to say thank you, here’s my number. Call me.”

Donwen lay in bed feeling the world spinning. She couldn’t make up her mind if she was going to be sick or not. She thought of Rod and his lovely arms. Then she thought of Mal for the first time the evening; it was as if a part of her brain had been unfrozen. But she didn’t feel like crying. In fact she didn’t feel anything at all. Her mind drifted back to Rod with his god-like features. Now there was a man she could commit her life to.