Chapter 35
Now
With Mum still pushing me to rebuild a social life, I go out on New Year’s Eve to the small house party of friends I haven’t seen in over a year. I try to enjoy it, to be engaging and fun, yet spend the whole night feeling like I’m wearing a costume and reading from a script.
‘That’s normal,’ Eric says, over French toast and Buck’s Fizz the next day. ‘You’re not that person anymore.’
It’s a weirdly sensitive response from my brother, who still tells me to get over it when I have period pains.
In the third week of January, the Chat well-being group has a shared breakfast. Nicole talks me into going and we sit at the end of the table, eating croissants and wondering what time Danni must wake up to get her hair looking like that.
When she encourages the sharing of three things we’re grateful for, everyone curls up with embarrassment and I surprise myself by saying, ‘My family. My health.’ I almost add ‘new opportunities’, because earlier that day Jimmy called me into his office to talk about a new product marketing role he was creating.
Following the success of my podcast, which he described as ‘sparky’ and me as ‘spunky’, he was convinced I was wasted in social media, which he referred to as ‘faddy’.
While I’m not convinced going deeper into the marketing side of things is what I want to do, it’ll hopefully put an end to the growing indifference I have towards work.
‘Zoe, can you not think of three?’ Danni says, leaning in close enough that I can smell her citrusy shampoo.
‘My third would be . . .’ From across the desk Nicole is, awkwardly, making a heart shape with her hands.
I don’t know what message she’s trying to get across.
While she hasn’t mentioned Cian or referred to me as a helpless sweet child in weeks, she has started dropping the occasional, ‘call me if you need’ when she leaves the office.
‘My third would be the countless emails Nicole sends me despite sitting six feet away.’
Nicole gasps. ‘I’d never do that. I am way too busy.’
‘Emails I could not have got through last year without.’ It’s the first time I ever see Nicole lost for words.
In general, January is tough, and the amount of media messaging about winter blues, seasonal affective disorder and Blue Monday doesn’t help.
I tick off all the number-related ways to save my life, such as eating five a day, and walking 10,000 steps, and while I came out of the marathon group months ago, I contacted Kasie’s brother Alex for advice on how to get started.
Not on running a marathon – that would be worryingly out of character – but on plain old running.
Exercise being the constant theme in people’s advice for mood lifting that doesn’t involve talking to a stranger or taking medication.
Overjoyed, Alex proceeded to send me his entire training schedule, plus a playlist, which I listened to once before deciding UK drill is everything I hate about music in one genre.
I stop drinking Coke and read a book about cyber-terrorism before bed, and this, combined with running, which I thoroughly dislike, leads me to sleep reliably for six or seven hours a night.
I no longer dream of a burning house but when I sort the last of Kasie’s things, I find myself attached to her fleece sofa blanket and ugly cabbage-heart painting, neither of which fit in my shoebox of memories.
On the last Saturday of the month, I take a trip to Staines with Eric, where he proves that it is indeed upon Thames and we have amazing pork katsu curry at the area’s biggest selling point, an Asian-style food court.
Two weeks later, we sit with our fingers crossed as he waits to hear if his offer on a two-bedroom house has been accepted.
When he calls Mum to tell her, she cries and declares, ‘My babies are going to stay together,’ to which we both mime vomiting.
In general, I’m far too busy doing things to think of Cian or my broken heart.
Though sometimes, I slip, and when this happens, I can only think of his charm, his laughter and his lack of volume control.
His neck, his arms and his weight on top of me.
I can only think of those months of us being together.
I want to call him, tell him not to go, to stay with me and spend forever confined to the lower floor of his dad’s house, testing out sandwich fillings that should be classics and having to restart a film because we talked through the opening.
More than anything, I hate thinking about him, because it feels like something tightening deep within my chest, something relentlessly pulsing and bruising everything around it.
It’s the evening of Cian’s leaving drinks and Nicole has brought me to a pub fluttering with pink paper hearts where she’s promised to keep me thoroughly preoccupied. I drink too slowly to get drunk, though quickly reach the tipsy edge of melancholy, which is possibly worse.
‘Eat, eat,’ Nicole instructs as the food arrives. We’ve gone, ironically, for the Valentine’s Special Offer, two big greasy burgers and chips.
‘What’s romantic about this?’ I ask. ‘They could have at least put the ketchup in a heart-shaped ramekin.’
‘Happy Galentine’s Day,’ she says while raising her glass. ‘I don’t know what it means, but everyone at work kept saying it. Cheers.’ After a few sips she nods over to the bar where Ikenna stands doing quality control on the mixing of his old-fashioned. ‘Am I to let you go home with him tonight?’
‘Absolutely not. I invited him because I need a friend.’
‘I’m your friend,’ she declares.
‘I also needed a friend who is not emotionally invested in seeing me and Cian together in any way.’
Nicole scoffs in an overly theatrical manner.
‘Ladies,’ Ikenna begins as he sits down. ‘Happy Valentine’s.’
‘Chip?’ Nicole indicates her plate.
‘No, thank you, I don’t eat pub food. Zoe, I can only stay for a short time as I need to get home for Maximus. He’s really struggling with his allergies at the moment.’
‘Who are you talking about?’ Nicole asks.
‘Ikenna’s dog,’ I say.
At this, he proudly produces a photo.
‘You keep that thing in your home?’ Nicole asks. ‘I thought they were banned under the dangerous dogs act.’
Ikenna’s face clouds. ‘Incorrect information. Mastiffs are kind, good-natured and docile.’
‘They’d have to be with faces like that,’ Nicole responds.
‘You’re a mother,’ Ikenna says. ‘You should understand the importance of nurturing.’
‘I’m a mother of children, not animals.’
How had I forgotten how much these two do not like each other? Still, they fall into a sort of double act for my sake, trying to distract me with their wrangling while I wish for it to be tomorrow.
When Nicole goes outside to call her children, Ikenna asks how I really feel and I give him a great spiel around how excited I am about running, Staines and the possibility of a promotion and pay rise in the spring.
‘And?’ he says.
‘And what?’
‘Are you ready to open up to me about Cian?’
At this moment, it’s more important I smear the remaining chips with mustard than answer.
‘I’m not trying to get in your business,’ he says. ‘Didn’t Cian get divorced last year?’
‘Divorced? No.’
‘Who’d get married so young? Your brain isn’t even fully developed.’
‘He wasn’t married,’ I say. ‘He was with someone for a long time, and they broke up.’
‘I worked with him years ago.’
‘He mentioned that.’
‘It all makes sense,’ Ikenna continues, not listening to me. ‘Cian always used to be the first to like my gym selfies. Then one day he stopped following me.’
‘Maybe he didn’t want to see your socials anymore.’
‘Impossible.’ Ikenna sniffs. ‘I don’t whack up any old thing. My socials are curated.’
‘We were friends,’ I say. ‘Cian lived close, and we used to hang out.’
‘Used to hang out?’ Ikenna smiles, as if he’s cracked a code that has been puzzling him.
‘We weren’t seeing each other for long. We were, I don’t know. We tried to be friends. I really tried. When what I should have done is run a mile when I realised.’
‘Realised what?’
The pub is beginning to get busier, noisier, though thankfully the crowd is more pre-theatre middle-aged women than couples. I stare at the door and wonder what’s taking Nicole so long.
‘Zoe?’
‘I’ve never liked anyone like that before,’ I admit, annoyed at how Ikenna is digging. ‘I’ve never—’ am I going to say it? ‘—I’ve never been in love. No, I mean I have, once or twice, I think, just not like that. Happy now?’
There’s a spark of surprise before Ikenna fires back, ‘Not even with me?’ I worry he’s serious for all of two seconds, then he chuckles. ‘I’m kidding.’
‘Did you just make a joke?’ I say in shock.
‘I make jokes all the time. People find me very comical. It’s you with your warped sense of humour who doesn’t get it.’ He stares then makes a self-congratulatory humph-like sound. ‘In love. Shit. That’s serious.’
‘I can’t believe I told you this. There wasn’t any crossover or anything,’ I clarify.
‘I wasn’t assuming that.’
‘We were genuinely friends, at the start, that’s all it was.
Then I wanted to be with him all the time.
I loved the way I felt when I was with him.
Even when everything else was so crap. I didn’t think he was ready for anything.
But apparently, he was, and it was me who wasn’t ready.
Now he’s leaving.’ I avoid looking at Ikenna as I say this, because I know what it looks like when he feels sorry for me.
‘He got you bad.’
This makes it sound like Cian did it on purpose, let me fall in love with him while knowing nothing would ever come of it. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ I mumble. ‘Why are you so easy to talk to now?’
‘Because I’m perfect.’ He grins.
‘Was that another joke?’
He kisses his teeth as Nicole returns. ‘The vibe at the table has changed in my absence. What’re you talking about?’
At the same time, I say, ‘Nothing,’ Ikenna says, ‘Cian.’
Nicole grabs the last chip. ‘Oh dear.’
‘Were you aware of this?’ Ikenna asks her.
‘Aware of what?’ she says with false blankness.
‘I would never have let Zoe get involved with someone when she was still raw,’ Ikenna says.
‘I tried.’ Nicole switches her head in a way I can only describe as sassy. ‘For weeks I was telling her this whole Cian thing was a bad idea. You think she listens to me? Anyway, I thought it was a friend with benefits situation.’
Ikenna blows out a breath. ‘Friends with benefits. Such a grimy phrase. It cheapens sexual connections.’
‘Can we talk about something else?’ I ask.
‘Why is he leaving?’ Ikenna queries.
‘He got offered a job in Singapore,’ Nicole answers.
Ikenna eyes me like I’ve done something off-putting. ‘If you’re so loved up, why didn’t you go with him?’
Nicole slams a palm on the table. ‘Exactly.’
When Nicole first found out Cian was taking a job abroad, she called him every name under the sun, though once she heard the whole story, it was me she had questions for. She couldn’t get her head around why I didn’t want to drop everything and follow him.
‘When’s he going?’ Ikenna asks.
‘He’s flying out next Monday. His sister lives in Dubai, so he’s going to visit her before travelling for a few weeks.’ Nicole shrinks, as if realising she spoke out of turn.
‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘I get you’re still friends with him.’
Her face reddens. ‘I know I’m not meant to talk about him, and I promised you I never would but—’
‘Nicole,’ I try. ‘Please not now.’
‘I don’t understand why you didn’t consider going with him.’
‘It’s too late,’ Ikenna says. ‘They tried and it didn’t work. She needs to heal and move forwards with her life. He has.’
‘You don’t even know him,’ Nicole complains. ‘I do, and I know he’s devastated about this whole thing.’
‘So why would he leave?’ Ikenna fires back.
‘Because she rejected him.’
Ikenna nods. ‘Rejection is tough on the male ego.’
I rub my thumb up and down my sternum, trying to relieve the soreness within. ‘We can talk about literally anything else. Please. Ikenna, tell me more about this one hundred per cent raw meat diet Maximus is on.’
‘Maybe,’ Ikenna says, ‘this is a situation where some closure would help her in the long run. Or maybe . . .’ He lifts his shoulders.
‘Maybe what?’ Nicole presses.
‘Once she loves herself enough, she’ll be able to fully open up to his love too.’
‘Oh my God,’ I almost scream. ‘This is not helping at all.’
They stare at each other like children who have been scolded for fighting at the dinner table.
Nicole taps her nails against the glass then takes a breath.
Ikenna eggs her on by saying, ‘Speak your truth.’
She looks between us then says to me, ‘Cian’s staying at his dad’s place. He’s going to be a three-minute walk from you all weekend.’
That’s it. I grab my coat off the back of the chair and stand up. ‘I have a hundred other things to deal with. Things that are much more important than . . .’ I stop and consider how to minimise it.
‘Than what?’ she challenges.
‘Than some guy I had a very brief and very misguided thing with.’
Nicole snorts. ‘Yeah, that’s all it was.’
‘Why are you so invested in this?’
‘I’m invested because I’m your friend and I’m watching you let go of the only thing that’s made you truly happy in a very long time.’
‘This is home, I don’t get to go swanning off.’
‘Why not?’ she says, her voice soaring in a way that makes Ikenna glance around uncomfortably. ‘You literally have the freedom to do that.’
‘Stop projecting what you want onto me,’ I yell back.
‘Ladies,’ Ikenna cuts in, ‘let’s take the level down.’
I fall back onto my seat, but now Nicole is the one fumbling for her coat and standing up.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, knowing I went too far.
The smile she flashes me is full of effort. ‘I need to get home,’ she says.
‘Nicole, I didn’t mean it.’
She lifts her glass to finish what’s left, then before she leaves, says, ‘Do what you want, Zoe.’