ON WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN my wedding day, Mom dropped by. I had just finished breakfast and was pouring myself a second coffee when she rapped on the front door, with her peculiar staccato knock. I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to see anyone.
“Hey Zoe,” she said, when I reluctantly opened the front door. “I thought you might like some company this morning. A bit of an off day, no?”
“I’m trying not to dwell on it,” I said.
“I thought maybe we could do something. Or go somewhere.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I don’t really feel like going anywhere or doing anything. I was just going to take it easy and relax at home.”
“Well, I’ll just stay for a coffee and then I’ll leave you alone,” Mom said, sitting down in my kitchen.
We sat there together, not saying much, both probably imagining how different this morning was supposed to be. Right now, in some other kitchen, Amir was likely doing the same thing — thinking about the tux he should have been getting ready to put on and the ceremony that wouldn’t take place despite months and months of anticipation.
I still didn’t know where he was, but I assumed that if he wanted me to know, he would have made sure I found out. His silence told me more than enough.
Mom tried to make small talk, but eventually, possibly sensing my exasperation, she stood up to leave.
I thanked her for coming and walked her to the door.
“Take care of yourself, Zoe,” she said. I realized then that she had walked from her house, and for some reason I was touched by that small detail. It seemed more thoughtful, somehow, to have purposefully hiked across town to get to my house than simply getting in her car and driving over.
“I will,” I promised. I returned to the kitchen where I sank onto a chair and dropped my head into my hands. A gesture that was already becoming overly familiar.
RICKY CALLED LATER THE SAME day. Mom probably set him up to it. I doubt he would have thought of something like that himself. I didn’t answer his call that day, or the next. He was the last person I wanted any sympathy from, assuming that’s why he was even calling.
I honestly don’t remember what else I did to pass the hours or what I thought about as the clock ticked closer and closer to three o’clock, the exact moment I should have been making my slow and steady way up the aisle to Amir’s side. At some point, I started drinking. Gary and Yolanda had given us a bottle of scotch before everything went to shit, and I do remember cracking that bottle open to pour myself a healthy measure. Then another. And another.
After that, I tried to be strict with myself about not wallowing in the past. I went on, as I had before, working as much as possible to avoid being alone in my empty house with my empty thoughts. I tried to pretend that everyone was better off — Amir primarily, but also me.
IN DECEMBER, BRUCE CALLED ME into his office to offer me a promotion of sorts, naming me one of the Operators in Charge. When he made the announcement to the rest of the guys, he congratulated me on my commitment to the job and called me a valued employee. I’d nodded and smiled and pretended to be proud, but deep down I didn’t believe I deserved the distinction. I didn’t believe I deserved much of anything.
Mom was much more excited when I told her over our quiet Christmas dinner. “Oh, wow, Zoe, that’s such good news!” She was practically beaming as she clapped her hands together and grinned at me.
“It’s not that big a deal,” I countered. “It’s probably because I put in so many extra hours.”
“Don’t be silly. You work hard and they want to let you know how much they appreciate you. It’s a compliment and you should be proud.”
After dinner, Mom called Ricky. Before I could protest, she was saying, “Here, you need to talk to Zoe. She just got a big promotion at work.”
I shook my head at her, but she passed the phone into my hands and waited expectantly while I said hello to my brother.
“So, are you running the plant now or what?” Ricky said. “How much more money you getting?”
“It’s not like that,” I explained. “It doesn’t come with a raise. It’s just a different title and it means I’m in charge of some of the day-to-day decision-making. It’s because of all the extra work I do. That’s all.”
“Well, given how things went with Amir, I suppose you may as well be married to your job.” He gave a short, barking laugh. When I didn’t respond, he quickly added, “Zoe, that was a joke. I guess I should say I’m happy for you. Congratulations and all that shit.”
Ricky had no idea why I hadn’t married Amir. He’d never asked about it and even if he had, I wouldn’t have told him the truth. But hearing him put it like that — saying I may as well be married to my job — struck a chord. Because he was right. I’d replaced the person I loved with a building made mostly of cement.
CHAPTER NINE
•
FOR THE NEXT THREE YEARS, I slogged through the days that characterised my existence. The work at the plant was numbing and home was no more than a place to eat and sleep. There was nothing waiting for me there, nothing to rush back to. I continued to play around with photography though, and eventually being in my darkroom stopped making me think about Amir and his unbridled optimism. His belief in our future. His belief in me.
I had drifted, unknowingly, into a quiet acceptance of things
