Chapter 41
The day after I saw Cian, I felt I was getting ill. A heavy grogginess overtook me, and no amount of rest, fluid or complex carbohydrates helped. I trundled around the house in my dressing gown, eating toasties, while Eric poked fun at me for not being able to handle drinking with Nicole.
It continued for days after, the day of the barbecue Cian mentioned being the worst. Of course, I knew he’d invited me reactively, that I wasn’t really invited at all, and this was confirmed by the fact he never contacted me about it again.
Not that I thought he would, not that I put my phone in another room to stop myself from staring at it and urging it to flash with a message or a call.
The feeling of being distracted and slightly on edge has been consistent. I’m trying to pay it no mind, but sometimes I lean into it and when I do this, I’m convinced it’ll go when he does, when there’s no chance of seeing him again or acting on seeing him. When that happens, I’ll feel better.
‘Did you know Alex’s wife is pregnant again?’ Ikenna asks as we cut through crowds at Spitalfields covered market.
‘Yeah, he told me.’
I slow as Maximus paws at what looks like squashed noodles and chicken. Ikenna urges me to pull the lead. ‘Zoe, come on, he’s not meant to eat stuff off the ground.’
‘No? I thought carbs were good for dogs.’
Luckily, Maximus doesn’t seem to hold it against me, coming close to nuzzle my thigh. I stroke the velvet-soft space under his collar and coo. I would definitely be the type of dog owner who let their dog lick their face and sleep on the bed with them.
Ikenna leads us to the open side of the market. ‘Grab a table.’
‘We’re eating here?’ I say in confusion as we stop outside the poke bowl place. ‘But this is a chain. This is for normal people.’
‘You’re trying to be funny?’ he asks, unsure if I made a joke or not.
While today’s bright, it’s in no way warm. ‘Brr,’ I say, while making a big show out of shivering. ‘It’s not warm enough to sit outside.’
‘You need to wear warmer clothes. Or more clothes.’
I pull the edges of my summery orange sundress out and curtsey. ‘You don’t like?’
He gives me an appreciative look and then tips his head back. ‘This is glorious. I can feel my skin lighting up with it.’
When he rights himself, I consider asking what he does put on his skin, because he doesn’t seem to have pores.
The cold of the steel chair causes me to deeply regret not wearing tights. ‘Wait,’ I call as Ikenna begins to walk off, ‘I haven’t checked the menu yet.’
‘I’ll order,’ he says as he goes inside.
Maximus ambles in next to me with his nose twitching and marble yellow eyes going back and forth. My stomach growls in reaction to the smells of melted cheese, charred pork and garlic from the market food stands. Not so much at the idea of a nutritious bowl of cubed raw fish and vegetables.
A couple stop in front and hold their foot-long hotdogs high for a selfie, causing Maximus to make a low grumbling noise. ‘I know, I know,’ I commiserate while patting his head. ‘I want a hotdog too.’
Ikenna returns with two bowls of brightly coloured food. ‘You pick. I like them both,’ he says, though his eyes hold on the more elaborate of the two. I reach for the other and he stops me to take a photo. ‘So vibrant,’ he remarks.
‘Why’d you pay? It’s my turn. Especially as we’re somewhere relatively cheap for once.’
‘I’m paying to say congratulations.’
‘For what?’
‘Your property,’ he says.
‘I’ve not even passed the financial assessment. Please, don’t jinx it.’
‘Jinx. Don’t believe in that nonsense.’ He holds his shot of ginger juice in the air. ‘This is shaping up to be a big summer for you, I can feel it. First, property; next, a new job.’
‘Again, please don’t jinx it. Though thanks for helping me apply.’
I had called Ikenna for advice when a job for a learning platform designer at one of Chat’s rivals went live.
While I met much of the criteria, particularly around content creation, language and communication, I felt I was lacking some of the more advanced technical skills.
Ikenna made me take a highlighter and colour all the parts that directly related to my experience until the whole thing was almost coloured.
‘The shortlisting is next week,’ I say. ‘Fingers crossed. Top Slice is doing my head in.’
Two small children slow to observe Maximus; one of them curls his lip and mouths to the other, ‘Yuck.’ They both pull ugly faces before being dragged away by their parents.
‘Maximus gets so much attention,’ Ikenna says proudly. ‘Everywhere we go people want to stop and take photos of him. On socials, his photos get more likes than mine.’
‘Maybe you need to post more topless photos.’
‘I don’t think that’s appropriate. Young people follow me, I’m their role model.’
‘You probably save all your thirst traps for your girlfriend now, don’t you?’
Without a trace of amusement, Ikenna says, ‘That’s a very private thing.’
‘I used to love your photos.’
He clears his throat and stares at me. ‘You mentioned you’ve got a hair appointment after this; what time?’
‘You’re so smooth when it comes to changing the subject.
Not until three. I’ve booked a regular trim, though a small part of me wants to do something dramatic.
Go blonde, have more fun. Or get a perm.
I’ve wanted curls my whole life.’ Never would I do either, yet Ikenna looks at me earnestly and says, ‘Blonde. It will give you a whole new lease of life.’
‘I’m not really going to do something that different.’ I mix the bowl, swishing the rice around everything. ‘I already did something dramatic.’
Nine months ago, I had cried as my hairdresser cut my hair into the sliced bob I’d asked for. For weeks after, I was flinching in mirrors and misjudging how much shampoo to use.
‘Your hair is your crown,’ Ikenna says. ‘Physical change is good for growth. Don’t stress about it. Go for it. Take the plunge, rip the plaster off.’
‘You’re such a fridge magnet,’ I say.
‘I inspire you that much, huh.’
‘I don’t know about inspire.’ I rub the back of my neck; my hair’s getting long again, and I want it off. ‘You think I’m too cautious?’
‘I don’t believe in caution. If there’s something your heart is pulling you towards, you should go with it.’ He picks out a radish, chews and watches me. ‘As great as owning a property is, I fully support you if you decide that it’s not the right move.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘What are you talking about?’
It’s the first time I’ve ever witnessed Ikenna confused, his unshakable self-confidence rattled.
‘What did you think I was talking about?’ I ask.
He leans back in his seat and strokes Maximus’s head. ‘Going abroad.’
I stab my chopsticks into the middle of my bowl. ‘Why would I be talking about going abroad?’
Ikenna begins to say something then changes his mind. Ikenna never changes his mind, he’s not that person. He’s someone who spews his thoughts constantly because his set of ideas and beliefs is so strong he never has to waver on anything.
He pulls my chopsticks from the bowl. ‘That’s bad manners.’
‘I know that.’ I grab them from him.
‘I apologise.’ Turning his nose up at the spring onion garnishes, he unfolds a napkin and deposits them onto it. ‘I thought you were talking about not buying a flat after all.’
‘I’ve lost part of this conversation somewhere. I was talking about my hair.’
With his chin now raised, he proceeds to eat, and I mirror him, consuming one of the large tasteless slices of avocado while waiting for elaboration. ‘Why are you not saying anything?’
‘About what?’ he asks.
‘About your random assumption. I’m serious about this home ownership thing. I filled out, like, twelve forms, I walked around a building site and tried to picture what my balcony would face out on. I saved up a sickening amount of money for a deposit, well, for twenty-five per cent but still.’
Quietly, almost conspiratorially, he says, ‘I saw your search history. When you let me log into your job portal to check your statement.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yeah. Oh. That platform saves everything. Everything you’ve searched for and applied for over the years, even if you’ve abandoned the application halfway through. It’s a mess data-wise.’
There’s no excuse that will fit here, no lie capable of covering it. ‘I think I would have preferred if you’d found my porn search history over this,’ I say primly.
‘Why are you doing it?’
The food suddenly seems unappetisingly mushy and bland.
‘Zoe, why are you doing it?’
At first it was just browsing, dreaming.
Then a social media marketing role at Chat Around the World based in Singapore went live.
I went as far as finding out who currently did the job, my Singaporean counterpart, based seven thousand miles away.
I wondered about swapping lives with this person and what it would look like.
I spent evenings typing up an application then hitting delete.
It consumed me until the deadline came and went.
Though I kept looking. All these months I’ve kept looking.
It’s like a favourite fantasy I can’t move on from.
One that, in moments of extreme doubt, loneliness and regret, takes over.
I don’t talk about it to anyone, I don’t even think I’m considering it for real as some of the jobs aren’t ones I’d necessarily want to do.
Yet the idea of being there, of being with him, makes me want it so much.
‘It’s not a real thing,’ I say eventually. ‘I wouldn’t pick up my life and move there.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s not real.’
The worst part is, when I began picturing myself there, it was mostly vague imaginings of sitting on a sofa watching TV with Cian, standing in a kitchen while he chopped green chillies for a jalfrezi, hearing his voice on the phone, asking what time I would be home.
Though each time a job in Singapore popped up, the fantasy got more detailed, more possible, more like a real thing that could happen.
And since seeing him, the fantasy now includes a cat who looks like Wuffy, local gossiping pensioners and large keyrings on schoolbags.
My shoulders round and from across the table Ikenna tuts at me. ‘What prompts you to do this? To fill out applications for jobs and never send them.’
The desire to be with him.
‘You don’t know what you want,’ Ikenna says.
‘I hate when you say that to me. I do know what I want. I just can’t have it.’
‘You can have anything you put your mind to.’
‘I can’t have him.’
Ikenna gives me his disappointed look. ‘This is madness. It’s been a year and a half. If you wanted him that much you should have gone with him ages ago.’
I exaggerate a scoffing sound. ‘I should have given up my whole life for a man. You think I’m that pathetic?’
‘It’s not pathetic to go after what you want. It would be a strong move.’
‘It’s done. I don’t get a do-over. I don’t get to ask him to come back. I don’t get to rewind time and go with him. I just get to live with it.’
Under the table Maximus places his big warm head on my feet.
Ikenna steeples his fingers. ‘You lost someone you weren’t ready to lose, and it made you scared to have anyone else in case you lost them too. That’s why you let Cian go.’
This psychoanalysis could not be any less helpful.
‘Well done,’ I say. ‘Anyone who’s ever listened to a therapy podcast would be able to come to that conclusion. But that’s not what happened. He left, remember?’
‘What’s his situation now? Is he still in love with you too?’
‘Let’s talk about something else,’ I say.
Ikenna mimes building a wall with his fists.
‘You are one of the most annoying people I know,’ I say.
With a sheepish smile, he says, ‘My girlfriend says the same thing.’