I was used to being alone in my fancy house, where I’d grown used to being empty. Even though they had all the money could buy, there was still something missing. Relationships were transactional, with women wanting my money more than a real relationship.
While I was driving one day, I saw a messy woman going through trash. It touched me that she was determined. For some reason, I pulled over.
She was both weak and strong, and her strength drew me in. I offered to help, and she agreed to stay in my garage, which I had turned into a guest house.
Lexi’s story came together over meals. She used to be an artist, but her life fell apart when her husband cheated on her and left her. Our talks helped us feel better about our feelings.
Things changed for me though when I found disturbing drawings of me in her studio. I felt cheated when grotesque images showed how upset she was inside.
As dinner went on, we stopped talking. When I asked for answers, Lexi told me she was upset and angry. That her art helped her feel better, but I couldn’t get rid of the feeling that I was being seen as a monster.
Our link was broken, so I told her to go. As the weeks went by, I felt regretful.
Then a package showed up with a calm picture of me and Lexi’s note and phone number inside.
First I thought, then I called. As we made up, her voice shook. The drawing was her way of saying sorry and showing that she understood now.
Over dinner, we agreed to start over. Lexi had fixed up her life by getting a job and living on her own.
Our second chance was calling, and it was both full of promise and risk. We might be able to get past our money and hurts this time.
