I JUST WANT YOU TO LIKE ME | ✓

▬ 04: severed strings

Ziri sits on the edge of the bunk bed to take his meds, and I do my best not to frown. It makes him feel sick when he takes them before eating, and I feel a little sick that I've put him in a situation where that's necessary.

When we descend to the kitchen, everyone but Iris is gathered at the table with breakfast plates already empty. Ông reads the paper whilst Má is bent over her phone and a notepad. There's a chill in the air between her and Bà. Have they already argued? It's eight-thirty.

Ziri wishes them good morning with more pep than I can even think about mustering. Still, he stays at my heels as I beeline for the kettle to make coffee in the largest mug available.

'Did you sleep alright?' Bà asks.

'Yes, thank you.'

Ziri tugs at the sleeves of his jumper, crocheted by Sonia like all our jumpers. This one depicts a flock of sheep grazing on a hill that looks a little like the Windows XP background. It's loose on him, like all our clothes. Ziri still insists on sharing a wardrobe, even if I'm almost two sizes bigger than he is now. He always wore baggy clothes anyway.

'It's cold though. I thought I might get frostbite.'

The laughter he sows into his voice is manufactured, but shockingly, Bà laughs too. She's trying. Maybe they'll learn to like him.

I place a mug of tea in Ziri's hands, and his discomfort melts as he looks at me. He shifts his head, and I know he's about to kiss me, then realises where he is and says thank you instead.

I drink several gulps of coffee even as it scalds my throat to get enough energy to open the fridge. There's a container of leftover chicken which I take out to fry for sandwiches along with some spinach. I hand Ziri, who still hovers at my side, an Activia yoghurt to eat while I make the food. The doctors have said that it's important for him to eat a balanced breakfast, and if there's one thing I can be trusted with, it's ensuring that he does.

'Anh ba sent me a list,' Má says to no one in particular. 'He's done most of the shopping last week, but we still need some ingredients he forgot, and fruit and flowers for offerings.'

'We'll go.' I volunteer before the question can land, and the back of my neck burns. I make myself busy with breakfast. 'Just, we've a car and we need to go t'shops anyway to make summat without pork.'

*

Ziri stares at the woman as he holds open the door to Bao & Hussain's Asian Market for her and her walker. After thanking him, she goes on to compliment his braids, then comments on the lovely weather we're having.

'Say summat,' I nudge him, but when he doesn't, I turn to the woman with an apologetic grimace. 'Sorry, he's southern.'

Understanding dawns on her face. 'Ah. Well, love conquers all.' She pulls her bobble hat over her greying hair and hunches over her walker.

Ziri scowls at her retreating back. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

'Nowt.' I prod him through the open door into the shop before we owe Bao and Hussain their entire electricity bill. He takes a basket and walks dutifully beside me as I look through Má's list. 'It wouldn't kill ya to say hello to a stranger every once in a while.'

'Unless the stranger was a serial murderer, innit. In which cause it would.' Ziri speaks with the kind of dramatics that make the braids in front of his ears swing. Somehow, he widens and narrows his eyes at the same time.

'I doubt that elderly woman with a walker is a serial murderer.'

'That's exactly what she wants you to think– Oh! Can we get some lokum?' He takes a packet of Turkish delights from the shelf, holding it above the basket as he waits for permission, and though food is not something we'll be wanting for — if there's one positive side to being around my family, it's food — I nod.