Through the Lens | Dodie Clark

10

(tw: depersonalization)

A half finished pizza sat between Dodie and me.

"So," I said, breaking the half-hour silence. We had eaten without speaking, interrupted only by Dodie's occasional sniffling and the sound of my chair squealing against the floor as I tried to find a comfortable position. "What's going on?"

Dodie wiped her nose on her sleeve and inhaled deeply. "You've probably got it figured out for the most part. I wasn't angry about Charlie leaving halfway through the performance, or answering his phone, I just wanted to know what was going on. He thought it was me not trusting him, and he got really defensive.

"I was thinking about what you said to me- and I realized that I'm not. It's been a long time since I've been happy with him." She paused. "I thought he would at least understand when I told him that, but he only got more-"

"Did he hurt you? Please be honest, Dodie."

She looked into my eyes, and I knew he had by the look on her face, debating whether or not to tell me. Seeing her eyes get glossy again was enough for my heart to cave in as she rolled up her sleeves, revealing stripes of purple and blue wrapping around her wrists.

"He's never been abusive before tonight. Emotionally absent, maybe, but he never laid a finger on me."

I didn't know what to say. I felt like I was about to vomit, and I couldn't begin to imagine what was swirling in the depths of her mind. For someone she had trusted to do something like this.

Dodie noticed my gaze lingering too long on her wrists, causing her to tug her sleeves down again.

I wracked my brain for consoling words, but came up empty. I wanted to avoid the commonly used phrases; I recalled the first time my mother was admitted into the hospital. All of the slight variations of "things will get better" or "god has a plan" only made me feel worse. But I understood it now, as any genuine reaction from me would surely just cause more hysteria.

"Do you- can I give you a hug?" I was unsure of how she would feel about being touched after all that's happened, but she eagerly nodded and outstretched her arms. I wrapped my arms around her and sobs immediately wracked through her, leading me to wonder how long she'd been trying to hold herself together. Now it felt like she was falling apart in my arms.

I don't know how long I held her for, but when she let go, I drew a bath for her, spilling half the contents of Margo's fanciest bubble bath into the water. I could always pay her back later.

I walked in my living room where Dodie was sitting, staring off into nothing and thinking about god knows what. She didn't notice me for a moment, jumping when I coughed into my hand. "The bath's ready."

I followed her in and showed her to the towels and shampoos and conditioners. I was about to leave when Dodie grasped my arm. "I don't want to be alone right now."

---

I sat on the lid of the toilet seat, a striped shower curtain dividing Dodie and me. Floral smells drifted from the bath. Strong, but not overwhelming.

It was quiet, save for the occasional sound of water splashing as Dodie washed herself. If I focused enough I could pick out her increasingly steadying breaths. I made myself busy by staring at my toes and digging them into the purple bath rug.

This time Dodie broke the silence. "Sometimes I don't feel like I'm actually here," she blurted.

I crinkled my nose. Of course she was here. "What do you mean?"

"It feels like I am. . . looking through a camera lens." Her serious tone dropped for a moment as she chuckled. "I guess this is a fitting analogy for you. I'm watching my life happen, but it doesn't feel real, it doesn't feel like it belongs to me.

"I try not to think about it, but it gets overwhelming. I think it might of helped today, though. I know it happened to me, but I didn't experience it. It feels like I have a barrier between what's happened and myself." She tapped the shower curtain, sending ripples through the fabric.

I wasn't sure I understood, but I could tell it was real for her- or I guess, not real. I had wished to catch her with my camera more often, but she was consumed with her own behind-the-scenes problems.

I took my time picking my words carefully, but Dodie spoke again before they had the chance to leave my mouth.

"I don't talk about it a lot. But if there's a time to start talking about it, I suppose it's now. I tried to bring it up with Charlie once, but he brushed it off. He thought I was making things up."

"I believe you."

"I know. That's why I'm telling you."

"Have you considered seeing a therapist?"

"I think that's a good idea. I want to get this under control so I can get on with my life."

There was a pause, and we sat in comfortable silence.

"Evie?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"Dodie, don't apologize, none of this was your fault. I-"

"No, not about this. I'm sorry about the club- for kissing you. I thought you'd confront me for it today, or just not show up. I'm so glad you were there, everything would have been so much worse." Dodie's pruned hand slipped out from the curtain. "You're always there."

I laced my finger with hers and she gave my hand a squeeze. So she did remember. I was unsure if she was apologizing because she regretted kissing me or because of how she thought it made me feel, but that was the least important thing right now.

Despite the serious situation, my face split into a small grin. "You're not getting rid of me that easy."