Chapter 3: November 2006

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NOVEMBER 2006

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NOVEMBER 2006

MARK

It's a fucking miracle that Zoe hasn't packed her shit and high-tailed it out of here. Eight months still remains on the lease, and that's got to be the only reason she's sticking around. I wasn't winning any awards for Flatmate of the Year before Ben died, and now I'm even worse.

In the space of three weeks, she has transformed from an irritating bubble of exuberant energy to an addictive presence that I crave comfort from. Without work to distract me, I sit at home and clock-watch, waiting for her to return from uni. Grief has to be to blame. I'm trying to replace Ben. Trying to minimise the impact of his loss.

To make matters worse, she's as eager as ever to please me, and rather than finding that annoying, like I used to, I seek solace from it.

"When's the funeral?" she asks me over dinner.

Her question is timid, but she tries to disguise it by keeping her tone factual.

"Tomorrow."

"Oh." Her hazel eyes bounce up to meet mine. Sunlight reflects off the specks of gold in her irises. "Are you going?"

I force my gaze away from the enticing colours and back onto the less-enticing pizza I shoved in the oven twenty minutes ago. Even my meals are less effort than hers. Everything I do pales in comparison.

"Not sure," I say.

"I think you should."

It's the most assertive thing she's said in three weeks, just a notch below the flash of defiance I witnessed over the painkiller disagreement.

"You'll regret it if you don't," she continues. "I know it'll be hard and painful and upsetting... But maybe it will help with closure."

"Mm."

Will it help with closure, or will it bring it all back? My colleagues. Ben's family. Ruby. I can barely hold it together in the privacy of my own flat. A church full of Ben's memories is a test I doubt I can pass.

"How about..." She pauses and bites her lip. The plump flesh slowly uncoils as she releases it. "How about I come too? Is that allowed or is it like an official police funeral or something?"

"It's a normal funeral."

"Well... Do you want the moral support?"

Considering I've imprinted on her like some kind of pathetic duckling, she might just be the rock I need to help me through it. Or I might lose my shit in front of her, then scare her away for good.

"You don't have to offer, Zoe. It's fine."

She absentmindedly snaps her pizza crust in half. Crumbs scatter onto her plate, and some trickle to the floor. My jaw tightens. Apparently I'm not totally numb to her annoying habits, so maybe there's still hope for me.

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