Page 9 of Broken
The job I have lined up here is an administrator for a realtor’s office. I am dreading the very thought of going there. But I can’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Jericho, Sin’s boyfriend, got me an over the phone interview and put in a good word for me.
They must have been desperate, or Jericho had some influence because they hired me so easily. I guess to them, designing houses must mean I have knowledge of how to sell them.
“Come on,” Sin grabs both my hands and pulls hard enough to raise me to a sitting position. She huffs as though it’s hard. “Get up, let’s get this finished then I’ll buy you lunch.”
I can’t argue with that. As much as I hate to admit it, money is tight. It’s hard to ask for help. Sin has been amazing, doing it in a way that feels natural, not like she’s pitying me.
She brought over two bags of groceries, as a ‘housewarming’ gift, daring me to argue with her.
I roll up and give her a hug. Then we get to work finishing everything off, including making the bed and stocking the bathroom. It is nowhere near lunch time when we’re done but Sin cracks a joke about it beingbrunch.
After a quick shower, I change into a pair of denim cut-offs and a blouse, because it’s already hotter than Hades. This place has no air conditioning. A fan will go to the top of the list when I get my first paycheck.
I stand in the small bedroom and the enormity of what happened hits me. I kept busy getting away from San Antonio. I’ve barely had time to stand still and breathe. Now I’m here, in the place that is my new home.
Starting my new life.
I’ve lost everything.
My heart starts to pound and my head spins. For a moment, it gets hard to breathe and I wobble a little, reaching out my hand for the metal footboard on the bed.
Sucking in air frantically until I get a grip on myself, I force the panic attack away. The first time I had a panic attack, I thought I was dying.
This is my new normal. I must accept that, embrace it and move on.
I’m strong enough to do it.
Maybe if I repeat that often enough, it will be true.
Everyone is nice and polite, and they welcome me into the Lytham Realtor family with smiles, and a two-hour training session. Which consisted of a lot of videos of people selling houses, testimonials from customers and a virtual tour of their portfolio.
Sue, the co-owner, told me I’d be riding along with Eric. He is their top salesman, Sue thought it would be fun for me to see inside other people’s homes.
It is all so… Not me.
My cheeks hurt from fake smiling. At the little desk in the corner, I sit down, pulling at the sleeve of my shirt irritably. It keeps catching on my watch strap and I am nearly ready to rip the fabric.
I glance at the time. Great, I’ve been here four hours, and I already want to hit my head against the desk.
I’m being ungrateful. But I’m allowed to lament how I ended up here. Instead of wallowing in thoughts that are going to snap my fragile grip on sanity, I bury myself in the files.
My architect’s brain doesn’t care about furnishings and neighborhoods. I take some comfort in looking at the floor plans of the properties. I analyze where I would change things and marvel when they’ve done something good.
For a while, it gets me out of my head. Until I think of my own clients and the two properties I was working on. One almost built, the other halfway through the design phase. I don’t even know who has picked up the work. Probably Dean Samuels from Impact Architecture, one of my biggest rivals. The thought of that makes me sick.
My designs are my babies. It’s like someone has taken away a beloved family member. Might sound stupid but my work is a huge part of my life.
When Sue returns to see how I’m doing, I force a smile and ask if I can take my lunch break.
“Oh, of course,” she says, blinking rapidly. “We have a full kitchen here and I brought in my home-made lasagna this morning, you’re welcome to have some.”
“I’m vegetarian,” I lie, standing and grabbing my coat. “I saw a coffee shop down the street, I’ll run in there. How long is lunch?”
“Well, thirty minutes?” She sounds like she’s guessing. Maybe no one ever asked for a lunch break before.
“Thanks, see you soon.”
Walking into the bright sunshine, I take a deep breath. I can do this. I have to do this, otherwise I’ll be homeless. I’ve already been through that once. Let’s not do that again. I repeat this to myself as I walk down the block.
