were when you couldn’t remember is actually the person you’re meant to be.”
I chuckled now and wrung my fingers together even more. “Funny, you’re not the first person to say that.”
“Well, maybe it’s true then.”
“Maybe. But what if it’s not? What if I am this person, the one that lives in a beige apartment and is mean to her neighbors and doesn’t like Christmas parties?”
“So change it.” She reached over and took my hand. The gesture caught me off guard, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I squeezed back.
“Also not the first person to say that to me,” I said.
“It’s never too late to change who you are.”
“You think?” I let go of her hand and stroked the cat when it lifted its head and rubbed it against my arm.
“I know so,” she said.
I thought about it for a while. Maybe Noah had been right. I didn’t have to be this person, but I was almost thirty now and it was clear that I had been Zenobia-Phobia for so long already.
“Sounds like this other person who said the same things to you cares a great deal,” she said.
“I pushed him away.”
“You can pull him back.”
“What if I pushed him too far away?”
“Nothing is ever out of our reach if we just put in a bit of effort,” she said, then took a long, slow sip of her tea in a way that made her seem very wise and worldly. “Perhaps you could start with an apology? I find those, when sincere, go a long way.”
I looked down at the cat for a while. Its fur felt good beneath my fingers. Soft to the touch and fluffy enough that your fingers completely disappeared into it.
“I’m sorry.” I looked up at her. “For being so rude to you and for not accepting your invitations and your food and for not being the neighbor you deserve to have.”
“Thank you, dear. Apology accepted,” she said, with that warm smile again.
“I’d better go. I think I have another apology to deliver.”
I placed the cat down gently and got up. “Thank you.”
“Wait, before you go, take my phone number, in case you need it.” She scribbled her number out and passed me the piece of paper. I raised it to my nose and sniffed. “Rose-scented?”
“I have lavender if you would prefer?” She laughed at this and then I did something that I hadn’t done as Zenobia yet. I pulled her into a small hug. And this time, she didn’t stop me.
CHAPTER 41
“Noah! Noah!” I yelled, holding my finger down on the bell until he opened the door.
“You were right!” I gushed as soon as I saw him. “And I am so sorry for the way I treated you. Because you were totally right and I was wrong.”
“About what?” he asked, sounding not so friendly.
“Everything!”
“Can you narrow that down?” He folded his arms and rested his body against the doorframe.
“That I am not this person!” I pulled the gray jacket off and tossed it to the floor by his feet. Okay, that was dramatic. But fuck it, I was feeling very bloody dramatic now. “The person who wears these clothes. These gray, bland clothes. I am not this person. I am more than this! I am more than invisible Zenobia-Phobia that no one knows and cares about. That no one notices in a fire!”
“A fire? What happened?” He pushed himself off the doorframe and moved towards me.
“Nothing. Well, something could have happened, and no one would have noticed and that is the point! No one noticed me. I’m a ghost that haunts the dark, damp basement that no one notices, except for Eugene, but he only did because he was trying to sue me.”
Noah shook his head. “You’re not a ghost. I see you. I notice you.”
“No! You notice the person I was a few days ago, because that person is noticeable. But this one . . .” I ran my hands up and down my body, displaying my bland plumage. “You would not have noticed this person. And it wouldn’t have totally been your fault either, because this person, this Zen, makes herself invisible. She’s terrified of everything, and I mean everything. Cars, germs, salmonella, spicy food and clothes with color, vitamin deficiencies and not flossing, and insects living in her eyebrow hairs!”
“What?”
“Loooong story. Point is, she’s terrified of life and everything in it. And people too. She is—no, I am—scared of getting close to people, and I don’t really know why. I know I’ve been