I felt alone in my wealth and wanted to connect with others. That’s when I met Lexi, a homeless woman whose strength made me want to help her. Our strange friendship grew until the day I came across her disturbing art. Who was Lexi really?
My life was just a shell of luxury; I didn’t have any real connections. Women were interested in me because I was rich, not because I was attractive. I saw Lexi looking through trash one day. It touched me that she was determined.
Even though I wasn’t sure, I offered her refuge in my garage. Lexi’s toughness covered up her weakness. She told her story over meals. Her husband had cheated her as an artist, leaving her with nothing.
Her wit and humour made me feel less lonely over time. However, one afternoon I came across her art—grotesque pictures of me. A grave, chains, and blood. I felt lied to.
That night, I talked to Lexi about it. She said sorry and talked about how angry and upset she was. I told her to leave because I couldn’t forgive her.
Even after weeks, I still couldn’t get over the loss. Then a package showed up with Lexi’s phone number and a calm picture of me.
First I thought, then I called. Lexi’s voice was shaking. We talked, and I let it go. The way we talked gave me hope.
I said, “Maybe we could start over.”
Lexi said, “I’d like that.”
Our dinner get-together was the start of something new. Lexi got a job and started over with her life. I learned that I needed to forgive myself as well as her.
