Just Like That

74. "self-love"

Breanna Michelle Santana

The talk with Holland was exactly what I needed. She made things so clear. While shit was Grayson was still up in the air, I was proud of him for seeking help. It meant he was taking a step in the right direction and I was no longer opposed to the fact of having another talk. This time only civilized the whole way through.

Holland was no professional, either, but she put thing into perspective. I stopped blaming myself for things I couldn't control. A man cheating isn't a mistake, it was a choice. A choice he made that had nothing to do with me, so I stopped being so insecure about it. That doubt wasn't easy to get out of my head, though.

It was two days before Dad's wedding and I decided to clean up my act. Like, literally.

I started with the house and the guest room I occupied for the meantime. It was a wreck like my life at one point.

After dusting, vacuuming, making the bed, and disinfecting the bathroom, I went to the bigger areas of the house.

Cleaning made me feel good on the inside.

I danced around the house to the music in my head, wearing a smock, footies, and rubber gloves.

All of a sudden, in walked Dad and Angie who were all smiles.

"It smells clean in here," Dad commented.

"That's a first," Angie griped. Dad playfully joked back with her and then came to give me a hug.

"I see you're in actual clothes. Did you run out of track suits?"

"Ha ha," I sarcastically laughed. "No, I wanted to feel good. You look good, you feel good, Dad."

"Well that's definitely a start. Can you clean out the pool next," he teased.

I rolled my eyes and got back to sweeping.

In my zone, I pressed 'play' on my phone and slid it back into the pocket of my denim skinny jeans.

When I went to the closet to return the broom, I caught Dad and his soon-to-be wife glaring at me and whispering to each other eye.

My eyes lowered, getting suspicious. "You talking about me," I asked in a funny tone.

"Yes, actually. Angie wants to give you something," Dad spoke up.

"No, no, I couldn't take anything from you, Ang. I didn't even get you guys a wedding gift. Really, whatever it is, I can't accept it-"

Angie smiled and then turned her back to me so she could dig in the purse that she had stop the granite countertop. After a short search in her Michael Kors bag, she offered me some coupon.

"What's this," I questioned the gift before reading what was on it.

"It's a trip to the spa," Angie proudly blurted just as I scanned the writing.

"This is so sweet, but it's for you. You take it, you deserve it," I countered, trying to hand it over.

She shook her head and pushed it back to my chest. "Take it," she insisted kindly, "you deserve it, Brea. Get in some self-care, you need it. No offense."

I laughed a little because that reminded me of what Holland said.

To Angie, I went, "Thank you. So much, this is beyond sweet and I'm gonna do you one better!"

"All I want is for you to take care of yourself," Angie told me, squeezing my hands.

"And I don't ever want to see you that upset again. I thought I lost you, bud. Listen to me," my father spoke, "you are a Santana, we are strong and we handle our shit. Know your worth and don't ever let a man make you feel like anything less, you hear me? Or next time I'm beating someone's ass."
Angie and I laughed at my father.