Less than ten minutes later, Patrick pulled up to the house while I was rigging up my work truck to tow Stella’s car. He aimed his headlights at me so I could see what I was doing a little better, and I gave him a grateful wave.
“What the fuck, man?” he said as he approached me.
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” I proceeded to tell him what Stella had told me about Nick and how she had left him, saving the more delicate details of how she broke down as those weren’t my bits of vulnerability to give away.
“I don’t know. I just don’t see a grown man coming all the way up here from Salt Lake City to do this to his ex-girlfriend’s car, do you?” Patrick asked me. There was no ounce of sarcasm or judgement in his tone, he was asking honestly. That’s something I appreciated about Pat, he always took other people’s opinions into consideration.
“No, I don’t think so,” I admitted, even though it felt like defeat for how convinced Stella had been. “But it’s still someone messing with her and it needs to stop.”
Apart from Stella being the victim, this was my grandma’s home,and it didn’t sit well with me that someone had come onto her property to do something as malicious as this.
“Couldn’t agree more. We’ll find out who did this. If it was some kids playing a stupid prank, we’re bound to find someone with red spray paint on their hands in the next day or two.”
I really hoped it would be that easy, but something told me it wouldn’t.
Patrick helped me get Stella’s car to my house, and after he left I went in my house to give Bernard some extra treats. I felt a little bad for leaving him alone, but I’d feel even worse leaving Stella in that empty house, even if that meant sleeping on the couch so I could be close to the front door.
After the initial shock of my defaced car wore off, I set out the next morning with a fire of determination to call a tow truck and get things dealt with, only to walk outside and find it already gone.
Although I didn’t see my car, my eyes were drawn to the woman in the teal dress with yet another apron on. She seemed to wear them just as often as Calvin wore his red plaid lumberjack shirts. This apron was definitely used outside, though, as it was covered in dirt and the pockets were full of her garden tools.
“Trixie, do you know what happened to my car?” I asked as I walked toward the garden on the side of the house. I doubted anyone would steal a car that looked likethat.
“Oh, Calvin met with Sean first thing this morning and they took it down to Sean’s shop. He was already up and at ’er when I got home from Gloria’s. Pretty sure he even slept on the couch.” She ended by throwing a little wink my way.
I sighed and sunk into the dirt beside Trixie as I helped pull some weeds to keep my hands busy so my mind didn’t run spirals.
On one hand, I was grateful to not have to look at thehorrible words displayed on my car again. But I wanted to be responsible for fixing my own problems now and leading my own life. I wanted to show up in ways that were needed and do the things I had to do to push myself to grow. I didn’t need someone, let alone another man, stepping in and thinking he could do everything for me. Even though I knew Calvin was very different from Nick, I didn’t want to re-establish the co-dependency habits that led me to this point. I wanted to stand on my own two feet, be my own person, and do things on my own.
“Oh, I know that look,” Trixie said while laughing beside me. “That boy is going to get burned one of these days for not believing in the blaze of a woman on a mission.”
I chuckled in response, but couldn’t deny the fire I felt at that moment.
“Give him some time and he will come around,” Trixie explained gently. “He’s been around strong, independent women all his life. Been raised by one even before his daddy was gone, rest his soul. Dennis was often away on business trips while Vicky ran the show. So heknowswhat a woman is capable of. That knowledge is just clouded by his guilt of feeling like he’s never enough.”
“I understand what it’s like to not feel good enough.” I felt for Calvin, I really did. I knew better than most what it felt like to be a failure to the people you were supposed to show up for. “But he shouldn’t stop me from figuring things out on my own.”
“Oh, honey. No one can steal your independence. But they can trick you into giving it away. That’s something you have to hold on to, even when the boundary seems scary.”
What she said hit with the force of a ton of bricks falling directly onto my chest. Nick hadn’t stolen anything from me, but he did a damn good job of warping my mind until I willingly gave every piece of myself away. Until there was nothing left and I didn’t know who I was anymore. I wanted to start finding those pieces. Maybe even discover new ones. And build aversion of myself that I liked even more. But I had no idea where to start.
We moved from the weeds to the row of carrots and started harvesting them as a comfortable silence fell over us. Well, fell over Trixie anyway.
My mind seemed to be working at light speed trying to pick apart each memory and decipher where I had lost myself within those situations. I knew the overthinking wouldn’t help, but I couldn’t seem to stop. Maybe if I could figure out which event had been the catalyst, the one that had really broken me, I could start to find my pieces again. Had it been the first time he hit me? Or would it have been before that, maybe the love bombing or the silent treatments?
“How do you do it, Trixie?” I asked, finally letting my swirling thoughts get the better of me.
“Well, I just stick in the pitchfork and give a little wiggle to loosen up the dirt, and then I pull?—”
“No, not the carrots.” The laugh that escaped out of me felt at odds with the tears that threatened to spill. “How do you do this? How do you stay strong?” I gestured around myself, to the garden, to the farmhouse. It was amazing to me that after so much loss—her son and her husband—she still managed to carry on. To live such a vibrant life. To smile and show strength and care for others wholeheartedly. I had no idea how to get there when my heart didn’t even feel whole.
“Oh, my dear Stella. You can’t have the good without also experiencing the bad.” Trixie smiled at me as her hand found my cheek, wiping away the lone tear that trickled out. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you realize how short life really is. You can’t sweat the small stuff, even when it feels really, really big at the time.”
The smile that hit my face this time was genuine. I may have only known Trixie for a few days, but cryptic sayings full of meaning that were hard to decipher were her specialty.
“And when all else fails…good food, good music, and good company fixes everything. Come on, we’re done with the carrots for now,” Trixie said, taking the pitchfork out of my hand and sticking into the dirt with a strength that was surprising for her age. “Let’s pick some flowers and then go have some lunch.”
“Oh my gosh, flowers!” I repeated, instantly remembering my gift for Trixie. “I have something for you, one second.”
