Let a Homeless Woman Stay in My Garage, but One Day, I Walked in Without Knocking & Was Stunned by What She Was Doing
A wealthy, emotionally aloof man is pulled to Lexi’s tenacity when he offers her a place to stay. Their improbable relationship starts to develop — until the day he unexpectedly enters his garage and finds something unsettling. What is Lexi truly hiding and who is she?
I owned a vast estate, expensive automobiles, and more money than I could ever spend in my lifetime. But there remained a void inside that I was unable to fill.
Women always appeared to want me just for the money I inherited from my parents, therefore I had never had a family. I couldn’t help but wish I had done something different at sixty-one.
Unconsciously tapping the driving wheel, I attempted to release the comfortable burden on my chest. At that moment, I noticed a rumpled woman hunched over a garbage can.
I didn’t know why I bothered to slow down the car. Were there not people like her everywhere? However, there was something about the way she moved that made me feel something. Her slender arms dug through the trash with a cruel purpose.
She kept her eyes fixed on mine while crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s not right is life.” She chuckled bitterly. “And infidelity, especially from bad husbands. However, I don’t think you know a lot about that.”
I knew she was right, yet I still winced.
“Maybe not.” I hesitated, not knowing what to say next. “Do you have a place to go tonight?”
She paused, her gaze flickering briefly before returning to mine. “No.”
Between us, the word lingered. I only needed to hear it.
I have a garage, you see. It’s more like to a guest house, actually. You might remain there until you are able to stand again.
I thought she would tell me to go to hell and laugh in my face. Instead, she only blinked at me, her hard veneer beginning to crumble.
She said, “I don’t take charity,” in a more subdued and vulnerable tone.
I said, “It’s not charity,” but I wasn’t totally sure what it was. “It is merely a place to remain. There are no conditions.
“All right. “Only for tonight,” she answered. “I’m Lexi, by the way.”
It was a peaceful trip back to the estate. With her arms encircling her like a shield, she sat in the passenger seat and gazed out the window.
I showed her the garage that was converted into a guest house when we got there. It was adequate for a person to live in, but it was nothing special.
“You can stay here,” I suggested, pointing to the cramped area. “There’s food in the fridge, too.”
“Thanks,” she said quietly.
Lexi remained in the garage for the next four days, but we did occasionally get together for dinners. There was something about her that drew me in, but I couldn’t quite place it.
Perhaps it was the loneliness I saw in her eyes, which mirrored mine, or the way she seemed to persevere in spite of all life had thrown at her. Perhaps it was merely the fact that I no longer felt so isolated.
She started to open up one evening as we were having supper across from one another.
She said, “I used to be an artist,” in a quiet voice. “Anyway, I made an effort to be. I had a few shows and a little gallery. but everything collapsed.
“What happened?” With real curiosity, I inquired.
She made a hollow sound when she laughed. “Life took place. After getting pregnant and kicking me out, my husband left me for a younger lady. After that, my entire life fell apart.
I whispered, “I’m sorry,”
She gave a shrug. “It’s in the past.”
I could tell, however, that it wasn’t. Just beneath the surface, the ache persisted. I was all too familiar with that sensation.
I started to look forward to our discussions as the days went by.
My empty acreage was made brighter by Lexi’s witty and scathing sense of humor. The void inside of me seemed to gradually close.
One afternoon, everything changed. I had been running about, attempting to locate one of my cars’ tire air pumps. Without knocking, I stormed into the garage, hoping to swiftly take it and head out. But I was really stunned by what I witnessed.
Dozens of artwork were scattered over the floor. of myself.
Or rather, monstrous incarnations of myself. In one artwork, I had shackles around my neck, while in another, blood was streaming from my eyes. One of me was lying in a casket in the corner.
A feeling of nausea swept through me. Did she see me like this? following all that I had done for her?
Heart thumping, I retreated from the room before she saw me.
I couldn’t get the pictures out of my head as we sat down to dinner that evening. All I could see of Lexi was those horrifying portraits.
I had reached a breaking point.
“Lexi,” I murmured in a strained voice. “What the hell are those paintings?”
The plate clattered beneath her fork. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw them,” I said, raising my voice in spite of my best attempts to remain composed. “My artworks. The coffin, the chains, the blood. “What on earth is that?”
Her face turned white. She stumbled when she said, “I didn’t mean for you to see those,”
“Well, I did,” I brashly stated. “Do you view me that way? Like a monster?”
“No, it’s not that.” Her voice was shaky as she wiped at her eyes. “I was simply enraged. You have so much, and I’ve lost everything. I couldn’t help it, but it wasn’t fair. I had to release it.
“So you painted me like a villain?” With a stern voice, I asked.
With a look of guilt on her face, she nodded. “I’m sorry.”
I took a seat back and allowed the silence to grow between us. I wanted to pardon her. I wanted to know. However, I was unable to.
I said, “I think it’s time for you to go,” in a flat voice.
Lexi’s gaze expanded. “Wait, please—”
“No,” I cut in. “It’s finished. You must go.”
I transported her to a nearby shelter the following morning after assisting her with packing her things. Neither she nor I said anything. I gave her several hundred bucks before she got out of the car.
With shaky hands, she took the money after hesitating.
I was unable to get rid of the sense of loss for weeks. Not only because of the unsettling artworks, but also because of our previous experience. I hadn’t had warmth and connection in years, but there was now.
A parcel then showed up at my home one day. There was an artwork inside, but it was unique. It was neither twisted nor hideous. It was a calm picture of me, taken with a calmness I didn’t realize I had.
A note with Lexi’s name and phone number written at the bottom was tucked inside the gift.
My heart was pounding more quickly than it has in years as my finger lingered over the phone button. It felt absurd to get worked up over a phone conversation, but there was far more at stake than I cared to acknowledge.
I forced myself to swallow and pressed “Call” before I had a chance to doubt myself once more. Before she answered, the phone rang twice.
“Hello?” She sounded uncertain, as if she somehow knew it could only be me.
I cleared my throat. “Lexi. It’s me. I have your artwork. It’s stunning.
“I’m grateful. I wasn’t sure if you would enjoy it. I thought I should give you something more than those other paintings.
“Lexi, you owed me absolutely nothing. Nor was I exactly fair to you.”
“You had every right to be upset.” She spoke more steadily now. “What I painted wasn’t actually about you, but they were things I wanted to let go of. You simply were there. I apologize.
“Lexi, you don’t have to say sorry. As soon as I saw the painting, I forgiven you.
Her breath caught. “You did?”
When I said, “I did,” I meant it. My opinion was altered not only by the picture but also by the persistent sense that I had let something significant to elude me because I was too scared to confront my suffering. “And… well, I’ve been thinking… maybe we could start over.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe we could have a conversation. Over supper, perhaps? If you’d want.
When she said, “I’d like that,” “I’d really like that.”
We agreed to get together in a few days. Lexi informed me that she had obtained employment and purchased new clothes using the money I had given her. When she got her first paycheck, she had plans to move into an apartment.
The idea of eating supper with Lexi once more made me grin.
