Since I was officially promoted, I now had to start work on the Festive Fundraiser happening in December. And because Aaron had known he was leaving, he’d done exactly zero prep, so I was starting from scratch.
I was so busy with work and freelance jobs that I hadn’t drawn anything for myself in weeks, maybe longer, and as much as I wanted to, it just made me think of Jack now.
And, oh yeah, I was single again. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Not to mention the fact that I had to see Jack, who was now my ex-boyfriend, at our Monday night games sessions, where I apparently was incapable of making eye contact with him.
I’d got so overwhelmed with all the above that I’d tried to ring Cara, who, like the last several times I’d tried to ring her, didn’t even acknowledge my attempt. I hadn’t bothered to send a follow-up text this time.
But to top it all off, the cherry on the shit sandwich that was my life at present, I got a text from Lauren; I was already on edge, and the message nearly brought me to my knees in the middle of the office.
I just got the notification that Pablo’s getting moved to Leeds. The move won’t happen for another two weeks, but I wanted to let you know. Sorry xx
“Fuck,” I said, slightly louder than I’d meant to, and Chloe looked up from her desk in concern.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Pablo,” I said. “He’s getting moved in two weeks. To Leeds.” Not that the location mattered – Chloe knew as well as I did that after this move there would be maybe one more, and if they still couldn’t find a home for him…
As I followed the thought to its obvious conclusion, the reality we all knew about working here but hated more than anything, I felt my breathing start to go shallow. I sat down in the closest seat and put my head between my legs. The guilt hit me like a freight train: could I have done more? Had I been so caught up in my own drama that this little dog, who trusted me and loved me, was going to suffer?
And all I wanted to do was talk to Jack. For him to wrap me in his arms, and kiss the top of my head, and tell me everything would be okay. But of course I’d managed to fuck that up, too, and remembering that made the heat pooling on my face ten times worse.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Chloe said, and I felt a firm hand on my back. The weight of her touch brought me back into the room, and as I lifted my head and felt warm wet streaks form on my cheeks, I realised I was crying. She pulled me to my feet and supported me by the arm as she led me to the bathroom; we only got a few stares on the way, and I was beyond caring.
“It’s all my fault,” I said as Chloe locked the door behind us, the tears coming hot and fast. “I’ve known he needed a home formonths. I’ve known I needed to move formonths. I talk such a big game about finally doing things, finally taking initiative in my own life, but here we are four months later, and I’m still sitting here letting things happen around me!”
“That is not fair,” she said. “You’ve had a lot going on.”
“No more than most people,” I said, wiping at my cheeks, but they were filling up as quickly as I could clear them. “I just can’t handle it. It’s too much.”
I felt myself getting worked up and tried to rein it in at first, swallowing my gasps and pinching my eyes shut hard, willing myself to stop making such a scene. But when it was clear it was all going to come out one way or another, I shut the lid on the toilet and sat down on it, burying my face in my hands, collapsing into tears.
I cried for Pablo. Of course I did. His fuzzy little face was front and centre in my mind, and I mourned all the ways I’d failed him; all the times I’d been with him and could have stayed just two minutes longer.
I also cried for Jack, and the desperation in his eyes when he’d asked me to choose him. Not to leave him. I didn’t want to; walking out of that room had been maybe the hardest thing I’d ever done.
But every time I felt him tugging on me, the part of me that had been tethered to others my whole life yanked back. I didn’t want to wake up in a year, or five years, and be just as stuck as he was. No matter how much he said he didn’t want that either, how could I trust him not to do that when he couldn’t even see that he’d done it to himself?
And then I cried for me, because I was just so fucking tired. As much as I loved working for the charity, and making it so that as few animals as possible met Pablo’s fate, I didn’t love what I was doing.
But doing what I wanted to do meant leaving this place. And leaving my friends, like the one who was squatting in front of me in the bathroom, gathering toilet roll for me to use to dry my tears.
I looked up at Chloe as the waterworks ebbed. “I’m sorry,” I said, accepting the toilet tissue she held out to me, using it to wipe at my face. Black flecks from my mascara came away on the paper. “I haven’t actually had my breakdown yet.”
“It was only a matter of time,” she said. “I was worried you’d been doing this alone at home every night. I’m just glad I could be here.”
I offered a feeble laugh, but the truth was that I’d reverted to numbing myself in every way possible at home. I’d been bingeing shit YouTube videos and reality TV. I hadn’t read a book or drawn anything since the gala. I’d been in complete burnout, and I’d been doing it alone. By choice, too; I’d had plans with Chloe twice since then, and I’d cancelled both times. We were supposed to be getting sushi after work now, actually, to make up for it.
“About tonight…” I started, but she shook her head vehemently.
“Absolutely not,” she said. “I’m not letting you cancel on me for the third time. This girls’ night is happening, whether you want it or not.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, but part of me was grateful that I wouldn’t have to spend another night wallowing alone, and that part won out. I smiled.
“Okay, fine,” I said, “as long as I’m aloud to be sad.”
“Perfect,” she said. “I can invite Fatima, too. It can be Sad Girl Autumn.”
