“Jacob I–“
“Tell me, please. I’m begging you. We both know that you’re self-harming for a reason. This is your last chance or I’m leaving,” he snaps, giving me his final ultimatum.
I look away, hurting more. It’s like I don’t want to help myself.
“I see, you’re chasing lies … fine,” he states. “I’ll see you in court, but don’t worry, this time I’ll be just your client. This whole thing ends now. I’m done.”
I open my mouth to ask him if this is really what he wants, but he’s already walking away. My heart is pumping too much blood into my veins. I can’t let him leave like this.
“I can transfer this case to someone else,” I shout after him.
“No, you will carry on being my solicitor. I’ll get what I want from this, and then we’ll both go our separate ways. If this is the way you want to live your life, then fine, Dora. I won’t bother with you anymore.”
I hear the door close a moment later and realise that I’m still a coward, a stupid person that can’t even make a decision. It’s over. It’s finally over.
***
Jacob
The next couple of weeks I keep pretending that everything is fine with me and I’m not emotionally wrecked. The court date approaches, the paper doesn’t come up with any reasonable settlement offer, and before I know it, I’m in court, standing alongside Sarah Willcock in front of the judge.
I avoid seeing Dora at all costs. We talk over the phone and through emails. Everything is strictly professional, and she doesn’t bring up what happened in her apartment. She tried once, but I shut her down almost instantly. She acts like everything is perfectly normal between us. I treat her like she is just my solicitor, with professional courtesy and a respectful manner, avoiding any sort of cheeky banter, snarky remarks or my usual comments. I don’t tease her, I don’t flirt with her—that’s all in the past. We behave like two people that have business together, nothing more and nothing less. Deep inside it kills me that I can’t touch her, but she pushed me to it, turned me into a cold son of a bitch.
That day when I left her alone in her apartment, our love died. Whatever happened or whatever hope I held on to has gone. This whole master plan, the revenge, doesn’t matter anymore. Dora lied to me. It fucking hurts to know that she went to so much effort to make sure that I wouldn’t try to get her back. She obviously thought about this long and hard. Her plan worked out perfectly.
When I returned home, my temper pushed me to the edge. I punched the wall until my knuckles bled. The frustration reached a boiling point. All I wanted was to hear the truth, but she couldn’t even bring herself to reveal why she made this whole story up about the fiancé.
Now every day I spend with her is torture. I keep acting like she doesn’t affect me anymore. I’m careful not to touch her, because any contact with her skin and I’ll crumble. The first meeting after we talked over the phone was slightly awkward. Dora didn’t say much, and the silence pushed us even further away from each other.
I can tell she hates the fact that I’m withdrawn and acting like we don’t really know each other anymore. It’s her own fault. She has spent so long hidden behind that bubbly facade, pretending that she is happy. I’m willing to sacrifice whatever feelings I have for her. I’ve been an arsehole, but I’m done with chasing after her. She obviously has issues, but she’ll never overcome them if she won’t face them head-on instead of keeping them locked inside herself forever. Her old man said it himself. Her lies are only bringing her down, and she is never going to move forward.
“We will have a solid witness on the stand tomorrow. That should give us the advantage. You will get an amazing settlement,” she says after we leave court later on in the afternoon. She looks fucking hot today. Her long hair is flowing over her shoulders and that arse, my god. I can’t stop thinking about the fact that she is single.
Calm down, man. She ain’t worth it.
“Good. Anyway, thanks for everything. I need to go, hot date tonight,” I say casually, like it doesn’t even matter. She turns around abruptly and looks at me, paling all of a sudden. Oh yeah, this is the reaction that I wanted.
“A date? Well, that’s good … is she in sports too?” she asks. Her voice vibrates.
“Not sure, I’m hoping that the date will end in my apartment, if you know what I mean,” I say with a wink, and leave before she can say anymore. I get into my car, feeling her eyes on my back. When I roar the engine to life and drive off, she is still standing on the pavement, staring back at me.
The truth is that I don’t have any date. I made that shit up, out of spite, just to push her buttons a little. My heart is racing, and I feel like crap. There is nothing that I can do anymore. I’m done. It’s her turn. She has to come to me with an explanation; otherwise I’ll never see her again after the hearing is over.
Then it might be too late.
***
Dora
Jacob won the settlement; the judge announced it just a few minutes ago. The paper has to pay Jacob five hundred thousand pounds compensation and print an apology letter next month.
For a split second I forget that he is my client and I throw myself into his arms, hugging him enthusiastically. This is the first time that I’ve had any contact with his body since that terrible evening in my apartment. His cologne overwhelms me, but he pushes me away. His body goes rigid instantly.
“Thanks for everything. I knew you’d do well, Dora. Just email me the invoice, so we can put this whole thing behind us. Take care now.”
Jacob gives me a warm smile, grabs his stuff and leaves. I stand by the desk as other people slowly head to the entrance, wondering what just happened. He is walking away, like he doesn’t know me anymore. One moment he was standing next to me, the next he is gone.
I have only myself to blame for it. Jacob discovered my lies, and he is angry. He gave me a chance to come clean, and I threw it back in his face.
I finish all the paperwork in court, forcing myself not to cry. I’m the last person to leave. My heart is pounding fast, as disappointment weighs heavy in the pit of my stomach. I’m free. Jacob is gone from my life forever. The past no longer matters. I take all my stuff and head back to my car.
Our short intense affair is over. Mike told me last night over drinks that I’m a complete idiot. I had no one else to talk to, so I told Mike everything, without holding anything back, and he wasn’t happy.
“Dora, how long are you going to keep this up? Jacob gave you a second chance, and you had to screw it all up again,” he said, much angrier than usual. I really need to keep my private life to myself. Mike just doesn’t get it that I’ve done all this for Jacob.
“I’m a damaged wreck; my issues just keep crawling out from underneath me. If I go back to him, I’d be constantly worried that something will go wrong, that he will leave me anyway.”
“For God’s sake, don’t be so stupid. That’s the reason it didn’t work the first time. You are the product of your own self-fulfilling prophecy. You have been frightened that love will leave you so you end it first. You don’t get close to anyone for that same exact reason. You are looking for something so pure and perfect that it doesn’t fucking exist. Love comes from people and all people are flawed. It’s the flaws that make us perfect. The guy that you should be with has been in front of you all this time. Jacob is the one for you.”
I only shake my head then and change the subject. Mike has had enough, and we start arguing.
In the end I left. Fighting with my only friend who has only ever tried to help me was just too depressing.
I drive back to the office knowing that I’ll have to face Mike again at some point, and that it won’t be pretty. Dad is in some meeting and half of the staff is not talking to me. Someone must have told them that I made Dad fire Lindsey, and the news in such a small office spread quickly. In the end I fake being sick and go home, trying to deal with the decisions that I’ve made, thinking about ways of changin
g my life for the better.
Chapter Twelve
Moving forward.
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.