In which two bitter strangers mourn together and maybe, sort of find themselves whilst they're at it.
[SEQUEL / SPINOFF TO 'THAT NIGHT', CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE BUT CONTAINS HUGE SPOILERS, MORE DETAILED DESCRIPTION INSIDE TO AVOID ACCIDENTAL SP...
She's sitting at her desk, doodling on a plain piece of paper, thinking this, when Artie bursts in.
"Ci!" he exclaims. "Ci - I've done it!"
Ciara looks up at him, wrinkling her eyebrows in confusion as Art waits for some kind of response. "Done what?"
"Big Red Records, Ci - they want me! They've offered me a contract!"
Then it dawns on Ciara exactly what he's saying and she leaps up, out of her chair and wraps her arms tightly around him. "Arthur McAdams," she announces, "I am ever so proud of you. You're gonna be a famous pop star," she says, grinning and tossing her hair over her shoulder, "and I, by default, will be a B-list celebrity."
"Thought you wanted to be an A-lister," Artie quips.
"All in good time, dear brother, all in good time."
She joins Artie on the bed, where he's shuffled backwards with his shoulders pressed against the wall. "This is the dream, Ciara. This is everything I've worked for and wanted. This is my big break!"
"I know, I know," Ciara responds, still grinning. But she doesn't feel it anymore. Now that the initial shock and excitement has worn off, she just kind of feels a bit numb, if she's honest.
And it feels wrong to feel numb at a time like this.
Arthur McAdams is embarking on the dream, she tells herself sternly. It is her duty as a doting sister to be his number one fan. But she can't help remembering the days that they dreamed about this with Hope, when Artie would barge into her room when she was over and play them his latest song, or when he'd drive their drunken asses home from whatever party and chatter the whole way about this and that and he'd always threaten there'll be a song about you when I get signed and Hope would always be quicker than Ciara was with a reply sharper than the pencils in the glove compartment of Art's old Ford Focus and they'd laugh until they cried and cried and cried.
But Hope isn't here anymore.
And if she's honest, Ciara is fed up of hanging on to her. She doesn't see how on Earth she could possibly let her go, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating. Everyone else is moving on - and rightly so. Why can't she?
It's been a month since they found Hope Waterman lying dead in her bed. Surely a month is long enough?
It should be, she decides. So she determines to do something about it.
"Art." Ciara swivels around, crossing her legs to face him. "Let's get a drink. On me. To celebrate."
Artie's face lights up immediately, eyes sparkling. "Drinks are on me tonight, my friend," he announces. "I'm going to be famous!"
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THEY END UP IN A PUB THREE BLOCKS AWAY. It's only 10pm but already, Ciara has two ciders and two shots on her belt and, to put it bluntly, she is on the verge of wasted.
