Chapter 77

Dora

Over the next couple of weeks I try to get used to the fact that Jacob is out of my life. Since that day in the bathroom I have removed all the razor blades out of my house. I need to stop cutting myself. I am frightened I won't be able to stop, but I'm going to try. Jacob was right. Self-harming is not a solution. To start with, I joined some anonymous support forums online, but it might take me months to find better ways of coping and not being the fakery happy Dora for a change. Every part of me is missing Jacob, but I can't reach out. He doesn't want me anymore and he deserves better. We are apart now, and the truth would only hurt us more.

At work things have quieted down and most days I stay in my own space, avoiding everyone. A lot of the time I'm a nervous wreck, walking through the corridors completely lucid and alive but on edge. The craving for razor blades is rooted deep inside me, and the voices in my head are pushing me to reach out for a knife or something sharp to make that one small cut. This way I don't have to think about Jacob.

On Friday after a week from hell, I walk into the conference room, hoping to work on some complex cases in silence. The new secretary is good, but I've been putting too much pressure on her lately, and I want to make sure that I know every client that I'm working with.

Other people in the office still believe that I was the main reason that Lindsey got fired, and Mike avoids me whenever he passes me in the corridor. This has nothing to do with our fight. He is cross with me because of Jacob. He believes that I made a terrible mistake letting him go, that I haven't thought it through. It hurts to see him pushing me away, but somehow I have to deal with it.

"Oh sorry, Mike, I didn't know that you were here. I can come back another time," I say, seeing my best friend on the other side of the table. He's buried in paperwork. This morning he was in court with another colleague, so maybe he wanted to escape too. We haven't spoken for the entire week and I have missed him.

Mike lifts his head up and stops writing. I hate the fact that things between us are so awkward. Our eyes meet and, for a second, I want to burst out crying, telling him everything.

"Just stop it, Dora. I think I'm done being pissed off with you now." He sighs loudly, pushing the papers away. "We've been good together always."

I don't know how to respond. If I share the fact that I have been cutting myself with him, I'll lose his respect and possibly his friendship. Mike only knows that bubbly and crazy part of me. The other Dora is no fun at all. I can't afford to lose him too.

"Thanks," I mutter.

I start putting all the files out, knowing that he is still staring back at me, probably trying to figure out why I'm acting so cagey. The tension rises in the room, and my breathing speeds up.

"How are you anyway?" he asks, after some time, probably trying to make conversation.

"All right, I guess, trying to pull through," I reply, taking a deep breath and telling myself that he is still my best friend. "Mike, listen. I don't want things to be weird between us too. Jacob is gone and that's it. I know I made too many mistakes, but he is my past now. Nothing that you say will make me change my mind."

Mike keeps chewing his cheek and then sighs. He knows that he can push me to be with Jacob, to give him another chance. We had never fought like that, but without him, I won't survive.

"Dora, this is your life. I might not agree with it, but it's your decision. Let's forget that I said anything anyway."

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. He has given up, and maybe it's better this way. All of a sudden the tension in my shoulders is gone, and I feel slightly relieved.

"So you won't act like a stranger anymore when you see me around?" I ask, just to be sure.

He grins at me. "Nah, I miss gossiping with you. It's no fun doing it with other people. You're a much better laugh, darling."

I smile, pushing the toxic, bad thoughts away.

"Does everyone still think that I don't deserve to be here?" I ask.

Mike frowns. "Fuck them. Laura keeps talking about you to whoever will listen, out of spite, jealousy. Don't worry. I shut her down a couple of times. She won't say anything anymore."

I rub my tired face with my palms, wondering if I'll be able to pull through without razor blades. This week was difficult. I barely slept, thinking and wondering what Jacob was up to.

"Well, they are right. My dad should have fired me a long time ago," I admit, still thinking about Lindsey.

"Right, I've had enough of this," Mike says, sounding angry. "I won't speak to you ever again if you're going to be so depressing. It's Friday night and we should be out partying, not worrying about shit like that."

"No, I can't. I think I'm done with partying and getting drunk. This won't solve anything, and in the morning, I'll feel like crap anyway," I tell him, attempting to act like a responsible adult.

"Dora, I'm not talking about drinking shots and partying all night long until dawn. I'm taking you out for dinner, and if you behave, maybe we'll have a cocktail or two. You need it. Sitting at home and staring at the wall won't make you forget about Jacob."

I'm two minds about his idea. It's been a week and I have done so well, staying away from booze. I can't just throw it all away.

"Let me finish this and I'll think about it," I say.

"Fine, but don't think too long, because I might change my mind," he replies, getting back to his own work.

We don't discuss this issue anymore. Mike has a lot of work to do, and he wants to be done with everything before five. Deep down I'm glad that we're talking again. He is the only other person that I need to be on my side right now.

The afternoon is productive and by five I'm gathering my things, ready to leave. Mike shows up a second later, as usual poking his head into my office.

"Ready?"

"Mike, I don't think—"

"I don't want to hear anything other than 'I'm ready to go,'" he cuts me off. I need to keep him happy, so I agree. It's not our usual Friday night. We are heading straight to the restaurant. We are two of the last people to leave the building and in the past we were always the first.

That night, when I sit and talk about things that aren't that important I feel a little better, because I'm with Mike. The knife and the other sharp stuff are in the back of my mind. My best friend is still holding a grudge about Jacob, but he is dealing with it somehow. Things are going to be difficult for a while, but eventually I'll get over the only person that I truly loved.

I get home slightly tipsy but not wasted as usual and then fall asleep instantly, still having dreams. Wild and crushing dreams about things that I can't control anymore.

* * *

The next week I slip up. The weather is bad and I don't have the strength in me to avoid pain, to avoid the anxiety that keeps following me around.

I make a few cuts on my thighs at work, after an argument with one of the coworkers and my dad. Mike still has no idea what is going on with me. I feel real guilty afterwards and soon realise that cutting doesn't make me feel better about myself.

A couple of days after the incident at work, I decide to call my old therapist in Gargle, who puts me in touch with someone in London.

It's not an easy decision, but I can't carry on like everything is perfectly normal. Jacob is in my head, but I'm forcing myself not to call him. We have nothing to talk about; he was perfectly clear that we are done.

During my third week after seeing Jacob in court, I sit in my first therapy session with Dr. Wilson. I tell him everything from the very beginning, even stuff about my dad, about the fact that he never cared about me. And about the cutting. It's such a relief to say it all out loud and to hear the doctor's acceptance of me as if maybe I'm not as horrible a person as I believe. I have some sort of a breakthrough, and that week I don't have any more weak moments.

The nights are the worst, though, because my mind keeps working overtime. Memories about Jacob slip in and I keep thinking that I can fix what we had. Sometimes I feel like I'm strong enough to tell Mike that I'm a cutter, someone that doesn't control her life anymore, but then I back away. I choose to keep it all to myself. Dr. Wilson reminds me that I'm not fully recovered, but I'm getting there, slowly, climbing a steep hill even though I don't see the end.

As to my dad, two weeks after Jacob's hearing he finally acknowledged me and congratulated me on the win in court. He gave me a bonus and sent me on my way. It took less than three minutes. I've taken longer to wash my hands. After that, everything went back to normal. He is back to treating me like I don't exist.

Dr. Wilson is encouraging. He keeps a record of my progress. Maybe at some point I wouldn't have to think about cutting myself anymore.

I visit Mum too, and that helps keep my head above the surface. When I do normal stuff, Jacob doesn't exist, problems are minor. Around family and friends, I don't need to wonder what Jacob does every day.

After the night out with Mike, I stopped going to the parties altogether, stopped hanging out with people that are wild and toxic. There are so many temptations, my old mates still calling, asking me if I want to hang out with them. Mike doesn't understand the new me. It will take time. I'm picking myself up. I've stopped buzzing and stopped crying over spilled milk.

Jacob hasn't called me since the hearing and I'm not expecting him to. He tried to be the good guy a few too many times.

If anything, it's me that has to make the next step, but I'm not ready. My soul needs to be patched back together first before I'll even attempt to reach out and say what I should have told him five years ago.