Chapter 17
The stairwells at work are the number one place to go when the toilets are full and you’re desperate to punch a wall.
It’s where you take a hopeful call from prospective new employers, and where you are most likely to bump into your ex who never takes the lifts, because taking lifts is for people with no regard for the benefits of lipoprotein.
‘No way,’ Ikenna says as he comes towards me. ‘I was on my way to see you.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I had a breakfast meeting upstairs. You look good today, babe.’
I push my hair, which I spent a very long time blow-drying, behind my ear.
‘It’s a beautiful thing to see you dressing up again,’ he says, like I wasn’t preened and polished when we had dinner last month. ‘I don’t have lots of time, I just wanted to see how you feel about this thing for Kasie.’
In response to the blankness of my expression, Ikenna rolls his head as if fatigued. ‘Zoe, Zoe, Zoe, you need to get back on socials.’ He brings up an invite on his phone for a special service at Kasie’s church, that too-ugly and too-modern place where we gathered to say goodbye.
‘Alex sent it to me,’ Ikenna explains. ‘He did mention that he hadn’t heard from you since you left the marathon group.’
It’s barely 9 a.m. Why am I having to deal with missed invites and Ikenna looking at me like I’m the same person I was at the end of May?
Can’t he see I’m coming out the other side?
At least, that’s how I felt when I woke up this morning, when I managed to eat breakfast, get dressed and come here without questioning what the point of any of it was.
‘Don’t worry,’ he says, ‘we can go together.’
‘Together.’ I panic. ‘What do you mean, as in a fake-date type thing?’
Ikenna stares me out.
‘Fake-dating,’ I say. ‘Like to avoid any questions from Kasie’s family, we attend together and pretend we’re still a couple.’
‘Why would we do that? That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘No. Ignore me. I wasn’t thinking.’
‘I know this is going to be tough for you. I want you to feel supported. I’ll explain to people we’re not together. They’ll understand that you still need me around. There won’t be any issue.’
I want to rebuff this comment but also, I’m worried he might be right. The idea of going to this, of being back in that place of grief and seeing Kasie’s family doesn’t exactly fill me with joy. ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘I better go. This is late for me to be getting to my desk.’
‘Cool, babe. I’ll forward you this invite and message you later.’ He rubs my arm and tips off down the stairs, more graceful than any man wearing brogues should be.
As I reach my floor, I’m shocked and almost appalled to see Nicole already there. ‘What on earth?’
‘I’ve been here hours already,’ she revels. ‘Well, twenty-ish minutes. I’ve practically got a whole day’s work done. Is this why you get in early? It’s so easy to be productive when no one else is here.’
‘What did you do with your children?’
‘They’re with their dad for the rest of the school holidays. Let’s see how much work that dickhead gets done this week. A-ha.’ Nicole squirms against the light as I open the blinds. ‘I was wondering why it was so dark. You look great. Did you wash your hair? Nice earrings, too.’
Once at my desk I deal with the first of four emails Jimmy sent me overnight, subject line: don’t read till am #worklifebalance. Last week I pitched him a podcast idea about foodies being obsessed with food cultures other than their own. He loved it.
My phone rings and I stare at Cian’s name as it flashes on the screen.
I’ve wanted to talk to him for the last few days.
I’ve been desperate to hear his voice and know we’re good, that the blip when he was at my place on Sunday was just that, a blip.
He doesn’t want anything more than friendship from me, and even if he did, even if I wasn’t imagining a slight simmering between us, the timing is the worst. For both of us.
Nicole mutters, ‘That ringtone makes me want to scream.’
My finger hits answer of its own accord. ‘Hello and why are you calling me so early?’
‘Because, Nana, I know you’ve probably already been awake for four hours. You alright? I figured you’ve been busy this week.’
‘Yeah. Sorry, I haven’t been around much.’
‘It’s cool. Will you do me a favour?’
‘What now?’ I say, hardening myself to sound snarky.
‘What do you mean, what now? Acting like I ask you for favours all the time.’
‘Actually, you do.’
‘I was going to ask if you could collect a package for me.’
‘Collect a package. What am I, your PA?’
‘You’d make a terrible PA. You leave messages unread for far too long.
There’s no rush, I’m not asking you to go now.
I sent it to the collection point because I’m fed up of Samuel destroying everything I order online.
If you could get it for me one day, any time, next week, next month, whenever, time has no meaning to me since I hardly leave the house and—’
‘Fine,’ I relent, realising how much I’d like to leave work right now and go over, because after four days of not seeing him, I miss him. ‘I’ll come after work.’
‘Thank you. I’m going to send you the QR code.’
‘It better not be a huge package,’ I say, purely to amuse myself.
‘Was that meant to be one of your smutty jokes?’ he asks blankly. ‘Go do some work. Talk later.’
‘Bye.’
As I hang up, Nicole stares, then huffs at me.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘Nothing.’
My phone goes again. Mum videocalling.
A videocall? At 8.50 a.m.? I hit reject and seconds later a text comes through.
Nicole clears her throat and says, ‘It’s funny how every time that thing goes off, you moan like it’s the worst thing in the world to be disturbed.’
‘Well, yeah, because.’ Annoyed, I unlock it and read aloud the message, ‘“Good morning, darling girl, I was videocalling to show you around our hotel buffet breakfast. Have a wonderful day. Love Mum.”’
Nicole laughs. ‘I can’t wait to be that overbearing with my kids.’
It pings twice more with a QR code and accompanying text:
Cian: It’s slightly larger than average package size.
I put the phone on silent, then flashily open my desk drawer and tuck it away.
‘Do I get a point if I guess who that one was from?’ Nicole asks smugly.
‘Why are you judging me so hard?’
‘I can’t believe after everything that happened with you and Ikenna you’ve jumped straight into having another friend with benefits. And one you work with.’
‘Cian and I are friends.’ I check around, because even though the office is quite empty, it’s still too open a space to have this conversation.
‘No, I’m friends with Cian; what you have going on with him is very different.’
‘We’re friends,’ I say, again, for what feels like the hundredth time.
‘Friends, yet you fancy the pants off him.’
‘It’s hard not to. And I can be friends with someone I fancy. I’ve fancied you for years and never acted on it.’
Nicole narrows her eyes.
‘Listen,’ I say, trying to keep my tone light, ‘there are no benefits.’
‘You expect me to believe he’s that badly injured.’
‘Why are you so against me hanging out with him?’
‘Because you work together.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Zo, you went through hell earlier this summer, and you’re coming through it; it’s not going to hurt to maybe stay focused on yourself. Don’t get so wrapped up in having a crush on someone unavailable.’
‘A crush? What am I, sixteen?’
She gives me a dirty look. ‘I can tell you like him.’
I straighten my keyboard and begin typing, trying to give off the vibe of indifference when I ask, ‘And does he like me too?’
‘He was with Vic for a long time.’
I swear, every time I hear her name a blood vessel pops somewhere in my body.
Nicole noisily stirs her tea and opens an energy bar. ‘I always know when it’s him you’re messaging with. Now hearing you on the phone, seeing your face when you talk to him, it’s like . . .’ She stops and waits for me to fill in the rest. ‘Zo, what is going on with you two?’
‘Why don’t you ask him? Because you do talk to him about me, don’t you?’
She doesn’t even have the decency to appear guilty. ‘I don’t like getting involved in other’s people’s business.’
I stare up at the mezzanine and wonder what it will be like when Cian comes back to work.
Will we talk to each other? Will it be embarrassing?
Will everyone look at me, looking at him, and be able to tell straight away?
I’ve done so well burying my feelings, but the truth is, I’m desperate to talk this out with someone. ‘I love being with him,’ I confess.
‘You love being with him?’ Nicole repeats, as if needing to be convinced.
I think about the warmth of his one-arm hug and the intensity in his eyes when I handed him the plate on Sunday.
I think about the way he smiles at me and the sporadic compliments he drops.
I think about the way he sets out to make me laugh, only to make fun of my laugh and I think of how he’s always got a reason for us to hang out.
‘Yes,’ I admit, ‘I love being with him. We spend so much time together and we message constantly. I don’t know.
It’s been fast.’ It’s here I realise two things: one, my confession has gone too far; and two, I don’t know how to handle these feelings.
It’s so different from whatever I’ve experienced in the past, which was always so uncomplicated and somehow less high stakes.
‘It also feels quite one-sided sometimes. Did you,’ I start, unsure if I really want the answer, ‘warn Cian off me at some point?’
Nicole opens her mouth to protest, then slumps back in her chair.
‘I don’t like getting in other people’s business,’ she repeats.
‘But I care about you, so yeah, I told him to back off. The same way I told you to not get involved with him. You both ignored me and now—’ she shoves her hands in my direction ‘—now?’
‘Now, I really like him. As more than a friend.’
She ruffles her fringe in frustration, then straightens it back down.
‘You think I should tell him how I feel?’ I ask.
She responds with a snort.
‘Come on, you know him, help me, give me some advice.’ I need the kind of wing woman who’s going to listen to me then tell me what I want to hear.
‘How are you sure,’ she begins slowly, ‘that this, what you think you’re feeling, is real rather than something to distract you?’
I break eye contact to stare down at my desk. I hear what she’s saying but she’s wrong.
‘You haven’t considered this?’ she presses. ‘Because for him too, he was always with someone and now he’s not. You’ve got to remember, if things had gone the way he thought they should have, he would be planning a wedding right now.’
‘You’re really sticking the knife in.’
‘I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to point out that perhaps you’re both together out of circumstance and convenience.’
‘I know on paper that’s probably what it reads like, but it’s not.’
Nicole slides closer under her desk. ‘Then have a break from him. See if you still want to text and see him all the time once he moves back to the other side of London and you’re back to your old self.’
‘Old self?’
Nicole softens. ‘When you’re more than a few months off losing your best friend.’
The rest of the afternoon I mull over the idea that Cian and I are spending time with each other out of circumstance and convenience, rather than any mutually growing feelings.
It doesn’t feel quite plausible, yet my mind snags on the reality of Nicole’s existing friendship with him and whatever they’ve been communicating back and forth without me.
It’s humiliating that her speech across the desks could be her way of letting me down gently on his behalf.
The idea of admitting the scope and depth of my feelings is terrifying, yet I’m now desperate to have some sort of conversation with Cian about what’s going on. So, before I leave work I send:
Me: Be there in an hour. By the way, I feel a bit awkward about Sunday, so if we’re hanging out tonight, no touching. Unless you’re up for it! Just kidding, but seriously, we should talk.
When I get out of the station at the other end, he’s still not seen the text and my heart sinks. I read the message again. Why did I send this? This is about to be so awkward.
No one answers when I knock on the door, yet I hear voices inside. I lift my hand to knock again, paralysed by the idea I’ve said something that can’t be unsaid, and am now just waiting for it to blow up our friendship or start something bigger than I can handle at this point.
There’s noise from behind the door and, finally, he answers. Two bikes block the entranceway, and he’s squeezed in next to them. ‘Hi,’ he says. ‘Shit, this is a hazard.’
The other voices are clearer now, male and female.
‘I didn’t realise you had people over; when you asked me to collect the package, I assumed—’
‘No, they just showed up. I should have texted you. Sorry, Zoe.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ It’s humiliating and I feel I’m shrinking, while trying not to look at him in case he sees something in my expression, some evidence of how I psyched myself up to initiate a conversation about us.
‘I’m home alone the majority of the time, then everyone comes over at once. My aunt came by earlier as well.’
I reach over the bikes to hand him the box.
‘Do you want to come in?’
It’s a blindingly empty offer.
‘I need to get home.’ We both know this isn’t true, because I have never needed to get anywhere.
The voices rise and break into laughter, and I’m too distracted by wanting to get away to intrude any further by eavesdropping. I step back to leave Cian to his real life, a life which I realise in this moment, I’m not a part of. ‘Well, have fun.’
The package is dropped carelessly by his feet. ‘You sure you don’t want to hang out with us?’ he tries.
‘I see you all the time.’ It sounds like an attempt to stamp ownership on him, or at least remind him of something, of me, of us.
‘Cool, and thanks for picking this up.’