Brooke
“I can’t believe it,” Lola says, handing me another shot of Vodka. “Brody? Brody broke up with you? I thought you guys were forever.”
“So did I.” I sniff, and wipe a copious amount of snot from my nose on to the sleeve of my sweater.
“I just don’t understand it,” she mutters as she throws herself down on the comfy looking armchair that resides in the corner of her living room. “You sure Brody said he wants to break up with you?”
“He wants to find himself, and he can’t do that if he’s with me.” I knock back the shot in one go, coughing as the alcohol burns my throat.
“That’s bullshit,” Lola says, elegantly unfolding her long tan limbs from the armchair, and moves to refill my shot glass. I shake my head no but she fills it to the brim anyway. “I never took Brody for a jerk. I thought he was one of the good guys.”
I grimace as I take a sip of the vodka, knocking back any more shots is probably not the best idea right now, who knows what trouble I could get in.
“So what you goin’ to do, hon?”
“Hide,” I sigh. “Or running away is sounding more appealing with each passing minute.”
“Won’t solve any of your problems.”
“Yeah, but I’ll be as far away from Brody and this town as possible.”
“True.” A sad half-smile forms on her face as she reaches up to free her long blonde hair from the restraints of a hair tie.
“Oh, Lola. What am I going to do? Tell me what to do,” I plead. “I don’t know how to live without him.” Lola is by my side in a flash. She puts her arms around me and doesn’t flinch when I start to cry on her shoulder.
“You are your own person, babe. You don’t need a man to live.”
“But I love him,” I sob. “This hurts so much.”
“It will, sweetheart, and it’ll hurt for a long while; but you just pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and plaster the biggest, fakest smile you can. Tell all those bastards waitin’ for you to fall apart to go hang. As for Brody…” She sighs. “You own the house together, right?”
I nod into her shoulder.
“First thing tomorrow, you go speak with an attorney, see where you stand. Then you talk to Brody about what you need to do to separate your lives. In the meantime, you also need to pull a one-eighty.”
“One-eighty?” I ask, lifting my head to look at her.
“Yeah, one-eighty. No begging Brody to change his mind. Speak to him only when you need to, always be polite and calm when you do. Don’t answer straight away when he calls or texts you. No doing his laundry, shopping for him, or cooking his dinner, picking up after him, or any of the things you used to do for him. Lastly, start going out more, and don’t ever tell him where you’re going or who you’re going with. It’s none of his business anymore.”
“Sounds harsh.”
“Honey, trust me, it’s the only way to protect your heart.”
“But what if he changes his mind?”
Lola smiles and wipes the tears away from my cheek. “Then he changes his mind, but you have to prepare yourself. Please, sweetie, don’t waste your life waiting for something that might not happen. Don’t lose out on love and a family. What will you do if Brody meets, then marries another woman? Will you still hope that he’ll come back to you then?” she asks gently.
“Yes.”
“No, you won’t, and you know why?”
“Why?” I bleat pathetically.
“Because by that time, you’ll have moved on to bigger and better things. You’re stronger than that. The woman he might marry? He’ll always compare her to you, and he’ll be left wondering whether he made a mistake lettin’ you go.” She smiles as she picks up the vodka, refilling her glass. “Because the love that you two have, that’s the kind of love that, if you’re lucky, you get to experience once in a lifetime. You mark my words, that boy will regret ever thinkin’ he could find better elsewhere.”
“Owwww. Jesus. Ass. Shit. Shit. Shit.” When the hell did we move the couch? Bet that asshat moved it to spite me. Bastard. We need to move it back, right now.
“HEY. MOTHERFUCKER. YOU AWAKE?” God, when did we last dust the ceiling? There’s cobwebs everywhere. Ha! We…Nooo more we. Just me, and I’m not going to fucking do it. He can shove that job up his ass. Let his next victim do it for him.
“YO! DID YOU HEAR ME, DICKHEAD? I COULD DO WITH SOME HELP HERE.”
“Jesus, Brooke. Do you need to shout?” Brody appears in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. I’d find it cute if he wasn’t such a heart-breaking jerk. He kind of reminds me of Bambi before Bambi’s mom got shot, all innocent and hot in his boxers and with that chiseled chest six pack thing going on. Wait, Bambi wasn’t hot. And he didn’t have a six pack.
Awwww goddammit. “FINALLY NICE OF YOU TO JOIN ME, BAMBI.”
“Will you stop shouting for fuck’s sake! Christ, have you been drinking?” He looms over me, even in the dark I can tell he’s pissed.
Whatever.
“Nooone of your goddaaammn business, buster.”
“It is when you wake me up.”
“Dreaming of all the sluts you’re gonna bone? Sorry I woke you. Go back to bed and leave me to die.”
“Come on,” he says, hauling me to my feet. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“Get. Off. Me.” I rage, slapping his hands away. “You don’t get to touch this anymore. You can go fuck yourself.”
“Brooke,” Brody growls in warning.
“Brody.”
He sighs and rubs his hand over his jaw. “I don’t want to fight with you. I want this to be as amicable as possible.”
“You’re a coward.” I spit.
“I know.”
“And an ass.”
“I know.”
“And I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” he says quietly.
“Yeah, I do, Brody. I hate you, and I wish I’d never met your smelly ass.”
“You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.” I look at him then, well I look at all three of him, but they all have the same sad expression on their faces. I’d feel sorry for them but I can’t be bothered.
“I might be drunk, which is your fault by the way, but I…” I sway as he gently guides me to our, no, my bedroom. “But I know that I hate you. You see, there’s this fine line between love and hate. There’s love, hate, and then there’s us. You are now on my hate side. I don’t think I’ll ever get over this.”
Brody doesn’t respond to what I’ve said. He helps me into bed, tucking me in. I think he places a kiss on my forehead. I’m pretty sure he tells me he loves me and asks me to forgive him before he leaves the room. I don’t really pay attention. I’m too busy trying not to vomit.