“Thanks.” I walked into her office and set the coffee down.
“How are you?” Brenda asked.
“I’m exhausted and pissy.”
“I’ll let you get back to your solitaire, then.”
I walked back to the front desk and turned the computer on. It was an ancient ‘90s model, barely capable of processing modern internet, so I wasn’t surprised when it locked up the second the desktop came up. “Jesus.” I pushed away from the desk.
“What’s going on?” Brenda was behind me with her hands on her hips.
“It’s nothing.”
“Come into my office.”
I walked in and sat down, and she pulled a peppermint shooter out of her desk. “Here.” She handed it to me.
“No.” I set it on the desk.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to go to that place. I’ll break down.”
“You’ll break down.” She nodded her head and snatched the shooter up. “It’s a guy. I can smell it. You know, I see it every single day. A woman comes in, dirty and crying like she’s ready to lose her mind. Well, you know what I say? Fuck him. If it hurts, it’s not love.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Can you keep it together?” she asked. “If you need to cry, you can always step outside.” She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her desk.
“No, I’ve got it.”
“Okay, but listen, I’m not coming down on you. I see too much to judge people. Mostly I’m worried about you, but I don’t want the clients to see you visibly upset. I hope I’m not being harsh.”
“No, not at all.” I kept my head low. “This is all me. I should’ve known.”
“You’re right, but you can’t blame yourself. He’s the prick who hurt you.”
I threw my hands up. “You’re right. I fell for the wrong guy, and you know what the sickest thing is? All I want to do is call him.”
“Of course you do. You fell for him. That doesn’t just go away. Part of you probably likes the things that make him so crazy.”
“You think?”
“Oh, yeah. You have an abusive father? Your man will hit you. You have a crazy drunk for a father? Your man will drink. It’s the same thing with fathers that cheat. We develop complexes about our parents when we’re young, and we act them out when we get older.”
I shook my head. “I should’ve known.”
“We all do it,” Brenda said, laughing. “The sooner you accept that, the closer you are to finding Mr. Right.”
My head fell, and tears started welling up. “I thought that’s what he was.”
“I know, but he’s not. And you’re going to have to accept that because it can get worse. You don’t have any visible bruises now.”
“No,” I sobbed. “I don’t.”
“But you could.”
“Yeah, I could.”