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15 years ago
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I never spoke to her again. I would see her in the hallways and she would offer me one of those smiles and I would turn around and ignore her.
She had really really hurt me. But, then again, I had hurt her worse.
The end of high school managed to keep me busy enough to keep from dwelling on Zoe too much and I refused to answer Tyler and Troye's questions on what had happened and, whenever they told me to go talk to her, I just rolled my eyes and ignored them.
But, despite the charade, I did notice her and what she was doing.
I noticed, for example, a few weeks after we broke up, she was back to refusing to eat half the time. I noticed that she ducked out to smoke almost every class and that she had been kicked out of AP Language Arts.
All of these things were red flags that I stubbornly ignored, all though they did, truthfully, worry me a little.
If only I hadn't been such an ass. If only I had forgiven her when she asked me too.
Then my life would be completely different. It wouldn't be so messed up.
And she might still be alive.
On May 17th, the principal called the senior class down to the auditorium. I filed in with Troye and Tyler. There was excited whispering as all of us picked a seat on the benches.
Once we had all sat down, the principal coughed. "Quiet please," he said and everyone slowly was silenced.
"Unfortunately, today's assembly brings bad news."
I craned my neck around, searching for Zoe in the crowd. Someone had seen her crying in the bathroom yesterday and I wanted to make sure she was alright.
"One of your peers was found last night. Dead."
There was absolute silence through the room, all of us holding the same breath.
"The student was named Zoe Elizabeth Sugg."
The breath was released and my classmates all slowly broke down into tears.
I felt myself become numb, the world seemed to be working in slow motion. I felt my chin trembling and I began gasping for breath.
Troye and Tyler had tears streaming down their faces and their eyes were on me.
I turned to the principal. "This is a mistake," I shouted above the buzz of talking and rush of movement. I felt hope rush into me once more. Zoe wasn't dead--she couldn't be. She was invincible. She was being loud and beautiful somewhere else.
"I'm afraid not," he answered--Chapman, his name was. Principal Chapman.
"It has to be! Because she can't be dead, she just can't be. She has to be alright. She has to be fine. She's fine!" I said, my voice raising.
"Alfie, I'm sorry, I truly am. But this isn't a mistake--she's gone. I wish I could say otherwise but I can't," he said, his eyes looking at me in pity.
"How do you know?" I demanded.
"I saw her. I saw her, Alfie."
"What did she look like?"
"She looked--she looked beautiful, just a couple bruises."
And that's when everything truly collapse, when my body realized that she was dead. That she couldn't not be. Someone had just described her freaking corpse to me.
I buried my hands in my arms and let myself be hurt, let myself try to block out the world around me.
•••
Later that night I awoke in a cold sweat from a nightmare. Zoe had died and I had been the one to push her in front of on oncoming car.
I sat bolt right up in bed and saw my phone lying on my desk. I got up and picked it up, dialing her number.
It had rung about four times when I finally remembered that she really was dead--and that I had as good as pushed her in front of a moving vehicle.
Before I could hang up the phone, a voice was emitted from the speaker.
"Hello?"
My heart leapt in my chest--it was her voice. It was her voice!
"Hello?" Zoe repeated after I hadn't said anything.
"It--it's me, it's Alfie!" I cried into the speaker.
"Is anyone there?"
"Yes, Zoe, listen to me, I--I am so so -so sorry! I was just so--"
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you." My heart dropped all the way to my toes.
It was her voice machine.
"I'm probably out clubbing with Alfred Sydney Deyes, one of the lamest people in existence. Sadly enough, he is the love of my life and my best friend even if he didn't even know how to run properly.
"Since me and Alfie are probably out having fun, I suggest you leave a message. I might not get to you in awhile."
There was the little click as she stopped recording and then the familiar beep.
I hung up and set my phone back on the desk, my throat burning as I tried to hold in tears.
Eventually I had to laugh though.
It was all so--so her. The recording had somehow managed to capture her personality perfectly.
After a few minutes I couldn't help myself: I had to redial her.
Once more I was met with the "Hello?"
I patiently waited until the last part, where she said my name and called me lame. I began to laugh, harder than I had at anything in weeks.
But then I realized that this was probably the only time that I would ever hear her say my name again, unless I called that voice mail again.
And of course I did. I must've called it 25, 30 times. I only stopped when her little message wouldn't play anymore and her mailbox was full.
Then I went to my own mailbox and I listened to every message she had ever sent me, laughing at it all the funny things she had said without meaning to be funny.
I replayed these until I fell asleep.
•••
The next morning I woke up at five and knew right away that there was no way I could go to school today--no way in hell.
I waited for Tyler to pick me up as usual and then asked him to drive me up to Zoe's parents house.
He pulled up to the curb and offered me a sad smile. "You gonna be alright? I can always go in there with you, you know."
I nodded. "Yeah, I know. But I have to do this myself."
Tyler nodded and I got out of the truck and walked up to the Suggs home. I heard the truck stall before it puttered away and I rang the doorbell.
Mrs. Sugg answered the door, looking at me warily. "Hello?" she said as it swung open.
The first thing I noticed about her was that her arms were absolutely covered in bruises. There were only a few spots of milk white skin that shone through the purple, blue, black and yellow.
"My name is Alfred Sydney Deyes," I finally said. "I was dating your daughter, Zoe, a few weeks before she, um."
Mrs. Sugg's face lit up. "Right, Alfie. Come on in."
She lead me to the dining room and disappeared into this kitchen for a few minutes before reappearing with cookies and lemonade.
"I'm assuming that Principal Chapman passed on my message then?"
I nodded solemnly. "He did indeed."
"She mentioned it a few days before her death."
"I see."
"You obviously don't have to do it," Mrs. Sugg said, noting my deadened eyes and lack of enthusiasm. "It's just that I would quite like to do grant all of the requests she made regarding the funeral."
I smiled and took a tiny bite of cookie. "No, I really do want to."
Mrs. Sugg smiled and sipped some lemonade. "I'm glad. The funeral will take place in about three weeks. We have yet to send out invitations, but the eulogy should probably be able to fit in a 5-8 minute period."
"Of course," I deadpanned, my eyes exploring the house that Zoe had hated.
"The theme is going to be Spring." Tears began to fill Mrs. Sugg's eyes and I knew that I should comfort her but I just could not bring myself to do it. I was dead on the inside. I was beginning to rot quickly. "She has a beautiful white casket. The color scheme will probably be white and yellow and so there will be daisies."
"That sounds lovely," I said in monotone, not bothering to point out that Zoe had wanted to cremated.
She nodded, a tear managing to escape. "Oh, dear. I'm sorry. Do you have any ideas of what you're going to write?'
I shook my head. "I'll come up with something though."
"Thank you so much for doing this," Mrs. Sugg said.
"It's no problem. I'm very sorry for your loss."
Mrs. Sugg took a shuddering sigh. "It's rather unfortunate of course. But dying young is the closest thing you can get to immortality, as Zoe said."
"That's beautiful," I managed, suddenly feeling a bulge in my throat and a burning in my eyes.
"I thought so as well," Mrs. Sugg sighed.
I heard the distinct sound of a car come to a halt. Mrs. Sugg jumped out of her seat and peered out the window. "What on Earth is he doing home so soon?" she wondered to herself before quickly clearing the cookies and lemonade from the table.
"It was very nice to meet you, Alfie," she said, almost so fast that I couldn't make out the sentence. "Zoe talked about you so often . . . " She began ushering me to the door. "Once again thank you ever so much for doing this . . . I know you will not let us down and that it will be absolutely beautiful."
A door opened and slammed shut in another part of the house. "Tracey!" someone yelled.
Mrs. Sugg stopped dead and fear flew into her eyes. "I'm in the living room, Graham," she said in false lightness.
Zoe's father stepped into the living room and saw us. "Who the hell is this?" he demanded, glaring at me.
I felt butterflies fill my belly--I could already tell that this man was dangerous.
"This--this is Alfred," Mrs. Sugg said, her hands fluttering around as she attempted to ignore the ambience of the room and act like nothing was the matter. "He was just here to discuss Zoe's funeral."
Mr. Sugg snorted. "Tracey, I thought we already discussed this. We are not spending our money to give that little slut a proper funeral. She stole quite enough of it when she was alive."
"But--but, Graham, she was our daughter," Mrs. Sugg said and tears began to stream down her cheeks.
"We've already discussed this and I was quite clear," Graham said, his tone rising.
A sob escaped Mrs. Sugg.
"Oh shut up, you infuriatingly weak woman!" Graham roared, striding towards her and raising his hand in the air when he was just a few inches from us.
She flinched and I could feel myself get more and more angry . . . How dare he call Zoe a slut . . . How dare he hit his wife . . .
"Graham, don't," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.
"Stop. That. Right. Now," Mr. Sugg whispered and a chill flew up my spine.
Mrs. Sugg's lower lip trembled as she tried to hold in her crying.
"Stop!" he roared, slapping her across the face and causing her to fall to the ground.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I screamed as he hit her again and her nose began to bleed.
"This is none of your concern!" he yelled at me.
"The hell it isn't!" I responded moving towards Mrs. Sugg and offering her my hand.
"Leave her be! Get out of my fucking house!" he screamed at me, knocking my hand out of the way so she couldn't grab it.
"Not until you let her up!" I cried back.
"Alfie, go," Mrs. Sugg said quietly as Mr. Sugg turned towards me.
"You want me to do the same to you, twerp?" he demanded.
"Alfie, leave!" Mrs. Sugg shouted.
"Who the fuck said you could talk?" he said, turning back towards his wife and kicking her in the stomach.
He then looked back at me and took two very deliberate steps. "This is your last chance to get out," he told me.
And so I went.
•••
I ran to my home and I sat in my room, shuddering with tears. No wonder she had hated that damn house . . . No wonder Joe had moved out so early . . .
I eyed my typewriter on my desk and, with a surge of inspiration, I began typing out Zoe's eulogy.
•••
On the day of Zoe's funeral, I awoke and put on a tux I had rented for the occasion.
Mrs. Sugg had finally left her husband and so half the town would be attending the event.
Tyler, Troye, and I carpooled to the funeral and they smiled at me before we all stepped out onto the sidewalk.
We walked into the church together and I saw, at the end of the aisle, a shiny, white casket. People were walking up to it, peering at the body within and then shaking their heads and walking away.
Troye and Tyler linked their arms and mine and we walked to the end of the aisle together.
With my heart racing, I looked into the casket, where it was all velvety and Zoe lay, looking peaceful, in a simple white dress and a daisy chain around her head, her face finally peaceful and her long eyelashes casting shadows upon her porcelain cheeks.
The dress was brought in at the waist, highlighting her thinness and in her hands there was a bouquet of daisies.
"I have to go," I whispered. Troye and Tyler nodded and Tyler handed me his keys without a word.
"Come back soon," he said.
I nodded and fled from the church, getting into the truck and turning the key in the ignition.
I drove home, nearly getting into several accidnets, and then raced upstairs to my room, where I grabbed the mixtape and the pictures of Troye, Tyler and Zoe at the camp fire, Zoe at the skating rink and Zoe in the air, swinging along with the eulogy I had painstakingly written and re-written over the last few weeks and put them in a Converse shoe box.
I put the entire thing under my arm and walked to the truck. I drove extremely carefully until I arrived at Wright park, where I grabbed Troye's walkman from the glove compartment and put the tape in. I grabbed the shoe box and walked up to the hill where I began to dig a hole under the trees, under where Zoe and I had gazed up at the night sky on New Year's and when she had taught me how to swing.
Flourescent Adolescent came on and I began to dig a hole as Alex Turner began to sing.
"Used to get it in your fishnets,
Now you only get it in your night dress,
Discarded naughty nights for niceness,
Landed in a very common crisis,
Everything's in order in a black hole,
Nothing seems as pretty as the past though."
I replayed the songs about five times before I had finally dug a sufficient hole and gently placed the box full of memories in it.
I began to re-cover it with dirt, ignoring the horrible feeling I was getting in the pit of my stomach at having ditched Zoe's funeral.
I didn't want all those people to hear my eulogy though.
It was just for Zoe.
But, then again, funerals are for the living.
•••
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Present Day
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I looked up from my arms, which my head had been buried in.
"Zoe's dead," I said in sudden clarity.
Troye nodded sympathetically.
"Holy shit," I said profoundly.
Tyler gave a little smile.
"How could I have--why didn't I just a slip her a little note?" I wondered aloud, reflecting on the actions of young Alfie.
At "note" Troye's eyes widened. "Tyler," he whispered.
Tyler looked at him blankly. "Zoe's note," Troye said.
Tyler's eyebrows shot up. "How the hell did we forget?" he demanded.
"I have no idea," Troye said. "Is it still in the car?"
"It should be. I never moved it."
"Me neither."
"What on earth are you two talking about?" I asked.
"Alfie," Troye said. "We have a note for you. From Zoe."
•••
-casually pretends the Artic Monkeys were around 15 years ago-
Highly suggest you look up "Flourescent Adolescent". Amazing song.
Thank you so much for 10k reads!
There is one more chapter left and then there is an epilogue.
I don't want it to end though . . .