Chapter 24
The following fortnight goes by not quickly, but efficiently.
There’s a rhythm to my life that wasn’t there before.
I reached out to some of my old friends and met up twice, and while it was far from the buck wild and crazy antics of my past, it still involved me leaving the house.
I never took Ikenna up on his offer to visit Amara but did send her a card apologising for missing church.
She responded with a text message thanking me for contacting her and it felt like one step in the right direction on a very long road.
I’ve been sleeping better too, though maybe that’s down to a touch of seasonal affective disorder, because it’s suddenly autumn.
Leaves are falling, clocks are changing, and pumpkins are out.
Cian and I have, by miracle of hybrid working, managed to avoid each other.
He does four days in the office, I do three, and we cross over on two.
He’s no longer in my eyeline, but his colleague Dev is.
I can’t imagine the reason Cian gave for the desk swap, but I appreciate it.
We rarely catch sight of each other, yet sometimes when I’m in a packed lift or have my back to the staffroom as I wait for the microwave, I feel his presence so strongly it’s almost ethereal.
There was also one evening where we were both in the pub after work and I swear I could hear his voice, loud and rumbly, saying my name.
Nicole has been gracious in not mentioning him, though last week I found a discarded KitKat wrapper by my keyboard and left the office without saying goodbye to her.
She texted me, All okay hon? And I sent her a thumb-up emoji while trying not to cry on a rush-hour train.
It was pathetic and I’ve tried to keep myself in check since, because Cian is just a man and there are many millions of them.
‘I bloody hate autumn,’ Mum tells me down the phone. ‘The only thing that gets me through it is shopping. I got you a lovely winter coat from M there’s no way we’re not celebrating a new one.’
‘What about Kasie’s family?’ I ask. ‘What about her mum, how do you think Amara will feel to hear I’m out partying for my thirtieth?’
‘That’s not how it works.’
‘I don’t want to celebrate,’ I say.
‘We’ll talk properly another time.’
How can she genuinely believe that what we’re doing on these calls is talking? It feels more like a monologue where she throws in a few cursory questions.
Once home, I eat an entire Waitrose miso maple pork shoulder.
I don’t even add veg, just stick it in a wrap and hate myself.
I then curl up on the sofa and try to find something light and engaging to watch and for reasons unknown, decide Up fits this bill.
The first ten minutes pass and I don’t cry like I usually do when it goes through the couple’s love story, yet when Muntz sets fire to the house, I burst into tears.
‘What happened?’ Eric asks when he hears me sniffling into a pile of tissues.
‘I didn’t know you were home.’
‘I’ve only just got in. You’re crying?’ he says in mild panic. ‘Should I call Mum?’
‘Do not call Mum,’ I stress. ‘Not to talk about me. In fact, don’t mention me to her ever again because I had her on the phone to me earlier for what seemed liked hours.’
‘To be fair, you are sitting in the dark crying.’
‘I was watching Up.’ I indicate the rolling credits and suggestions of what to watch next. Pixar’s Soul. Is my on-demand service trolling me?
Eric switches on the big light and moves a pile of washing from the armchair as he flops down.
‘How was your trip?’
‘Fine. I planned to get back earlier as I wanted to have a chat. There was so much traffic on the North Circular.’
‘You want to chat about the North Circular?’
He hops back up and whacks the thermostat on high, despite the fact he’s not wearing a jumper. ‘I’ve seen a place I want to move to.’
‘IRL?’ I ask, imitating Mum.
Eric grins. ‘No, online only at this stage.’
‘You’re really doing this. Buying a place at twenty-seven years old.’
He puffs his chest up a little, proud.
‘You make me feel like such an under-achiever.’
‘If the shoe fits.’ His laugh is more gloating than humoured.
‘Unbelievable you have any savings at all,’ I say, ‘the way you dispose of your disposable income.’
‘I’m smart with it. ISAs. Investments.’
‘Investments? Where did you learn to do that?’
‘You sure this is a good time to talk about this? You’re all red and blotchy.’
‘Okay, well, this is my post-crying face, I don’t know what you want me to do about it.’
He stares down at his brown striped socks and rubs his toes together. ‘I’m going to leave London.’
‘You can’t do that.’
‘Yes, I can,’ he says, straight-faced. ‘I’m not like you, I’m not obsessed with the city.’
‘I’m not obsessed with the city either.’
‘You think London is the centre of everything.’
‘It’s not a thought, it’s a fact: London is a capital city.’
‘I’m looking at Staines-Upon-Thames,’ he says over me.
‘That’s not a real place.’
‘It’s like Richmond,’ he says, half amused by his own ridiculousness, ‘but affordable.’
‘I would put money on it being absolutely nothing like Richmond. I bet it’s all pebbledashed houses and retail parks and roundabouts.’
Eric mimes a yawn. ‘Such a typical Londoner. You think everywhere else is going to be crap. There was a syringe stabbed into the tree at the end of the street this morning. I worked out of the library and a homeless person vomited in the non-fiction section.’
‘How can something so grim be so funny?’
‘Quite frankly, it’s not.’
He’s right. I know it’s not the nicest area, but I’ve never really paid much attention to how bad it is. After so many years, I’m slightly desensitised.
‘Have you thought any more about what you’ll do?’ he asks.
I shrug.
‘You can’t stay here, in this flat.’
‘Everyone keeps saying this to me. Why not?’
Eric blows through his lips, exasperated.
‘It’s not like I’m keeping a shrine to her,’ I argue. ‘It’s just where we lived together. I don’t see the issue with me staying.’
‘When I first moved in here, you were sensitive about every-thing. You cried when I broke a clothes peg because Kasie bought them. You used to grit your teeth every time I sat on her side of the sofa or used one of her pens.’
‘You moved in so soon after. I was still quite raw.’
‘You really think you’re going to move a stranger in here and be cool?’
I fiddle with a thread of my sleeve.
‘How long are you planning to live here?’
‘I don’t know, Eric. It’s cheap. It’s fine.’
After a few beats of silence he asks, ‘You know where else is cheap?’
‘Ooh, let me guess,’ I say sarcastically.
‘We get on, Zoe, better than I thought we would when I first moved in. Why wouldn’t you move with me? It wouldn’t be forever, even a year or two would benefit us both.’
He’s brought this up a few times now, me moving into wherever he will buy. The idea being that I would be able to save up to buy a place of my own. On paper it makes sense, though the reality is something different. ‘Moving out of this flat is one thing, leaving London is another.’
‘You’re going to have to move out one day.’
‘I’ve had to do so much letting go this year,’ I admit. ‘I’m not sure I’m ready for more.’
Eric stares at his socks, then at me. ‘Buying a house takes time. Paperwork, lawyers, mortgages, banks, all sorts. It’s not going to happen in the next few weeks. You’ve got time.’
Time, it was such a constant thing people bandied about in the beginning.
Getting over things takes time, give it time, in time you won’t feel like this.
All this talk of time as if it were infinite.
Who knows when I’ll be ready to move away from this flat, which, while Kasie and I never owned it, we still saw as ours.
‘Is it okay if I think about it?’
‘Course,’ Eric says. ‘Like I say, you’ve got time.’ He jumps up to standing. ‘And it’s not going to take you long to fall in love with Staines.’