Okay, so what he said made a lot of sense. I really had just had this idea about ten minutes ago and now I was waiting for a real estate agent to show me a shop. I didn’t have any idea how to run a business on my own. Of course, I’ve been helping dad run his as long as I could remember, but that was different. I had help. This was on my own. And I needed to keep it that way, find out if I could do this on my own thing.
“You’re right dad. I need to do some work before I just jump in. But I’m going to do this. I need to do this. It feels right. Will you help me?”
“Of course baby, I think it’s a wonderful idea and I would love to help, but promise me you won’t make any rash decisions okay? At least call me first, right?”
“Right dad. Okay, the agent just pulled up. I’m gonna look at this place to start. Maybe the agent knows about the local economy, I mean, she’s selling the shop, she had to do some research on it to sell it, right?”
“It’s a good start. Call me after, tell me how it went okay?”
I had an amazing dad. Supporting me even though I would probably end up taking some of his business.
“Absolutely dad. Thank you. Talk later, love you!”
“Love you too baby.”
I hung up and went to meet with the agent. I was excited for the first time in ages. I felt really good about this. I still ached for Brock, even if he was the cause of my pain, he was also the cause of my growth. I wouldn’t be here, figuring out what makes me happy, wanting to open my own shop, if it weren’t for him.
Thinking of him made me sad so I pushed those thoughts aside and walked into the shop, led by the agent, who introduced herself as Christine. Well, if that wasn’t a sign I was supposed to be doing this…
*****
I fell in love with the shop the minute I saw it. It was going to be mine, I had the money, I just needed the knowledge. However, after the discussion earlier in the week with my dad, I knew I needed to do more than just research before I opened a restoration business.
I was currently walking across the courtyard at Metro having just met with admissions about starting business classes. If I did this, full time, I could earn a business degree in two years. I had started college directly after high school, but at the time I had been directionless and scared. I didn’t last long. Now, I knew what I wanted and I held my head high as I smiled and made my way to my car. Turns out my directionless years hadn’t been for nothing. All of my classes transferred and covered all of my gen/ed credits. All I had to take were the actual business courses themselves.
I felt free, light, new. Like I had finally given up holding on to the past that had hurt me so badly and grasped onto my future. One I am building just for me, just by me. A me finally strong enough to stand on her own. I started classes Monday and I couldn’t wait. Two years didn’t seem that long when in comparison to the last 15 or so I’ve spent living a shadow of life, living off my dad, and then through Brock. Waiting for someone to make me matter, when all along I needed to make myself matter, I needed to be happy with myself on my own. Two years. I would be in two years. Hell, I was already on my way. I bounced across the open courtyard like a kid, ready for what the future held for once.
Brock
What little information I was managing to get out of locals with not even enough to fill a thimble with. She seemed to be doing well. She was happy. She was moving on. Hell, if that were true, maybe what we had wasn’t as big as I thought it was. Maybe it was time for me to get back out there. I wasn’t really ready, but maybe if I pretended long enough, I could…what was that saying, ‘fake it till ya make it’?
That’s how it goes right? I was going to give this new attitude a try beginning with this weekend at Justin and Meghan’s new place. It was just the place, small group of people, I could do this.
*****
I couldn’t do this. I grabbed a beer from the bucket near the front door and wandered through the party. A few people my ass…this was nearly everyone from our graduating class. Including fucking Summer, who had apparently crashed. I had words for that bitch. She cost me everything. I could feel my hands gripping the beer bottle so tightly it was about to shatter. I needed to relax. I needed to leave. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready to move on. My heart was still missing, it was still with Teagan, wherever she was. I was going to love her forever. That wasn’t going to change. This was a joke.
I turned around to head out when the bitch stepped in front of me. Not good. She leaned in and ran an overlong fingernail down my front, breathing in my face.
“Hiya Brock” she started, with what I assume was her attempt at having a seductive voice. “Way to go with the baggage! Now that she is gone, we can move forward with our relationship.” She was insane! Rubbing her breasts on my arms and licking my neck. I was doing my best to not gag and hit her. I don’t hit women, but she was really pushing it. Baggage? Teagan was never baggage. I may not have her currently, but I knew she was my only. There was no other person for me. I just needed to figure out how to manage my time while she figured out her life and got better. Then I would start to put myself back in, regain her trust.
Summer snapped her fingers in front of my face, “Hello? Did you hear a word I just said?”
I snorted, batting her hand out of my face, “Summer, I don’t have the correct measuring units to show you exactly how few fucks I give about you or what you said. You’re a bitch. You and your big mouth and nasty attitude cost me the love of my life. I was working with her, getting her to the point where I could tell her my past and you jumped in and purposefully ruined it. I don’t know what you think, but know this. You and I will never happen. Ever. I don’t know what fantasy world you have been living in, but there never was a you and me. There will never be a you and me. For me, there will always only be Teagan. She’s here (I placed my hand on my chest, where the ache was so strong) even if she’s not here (I gestured to the party). You, you are just a smudge on the pages of my life. A high school dalliance. Equal to a nocturnal emission, or my hand. You were convenient and easy.”
The shock on Summer’s face was priceless. I knew what I was saying was harsh, but if she could dish it out, she could take it. Hearing the sincerity in my own words, I knew the truth. I knew that no matter how many parties I went to, how many nights out with friends, or just having drinks, I wouldn’t move on. I couldn’t move on. Teagan was it for me. I didn’t need to figure out how to move on, I needed to figure out how to cope. I needed to learn what my new normal would be; how to function with this never ending pain in my chest. The gaping hole that only I could see.
Leaving Summer to stew in her hate, I turned to find Meghan or Justin to let them know I was headed out. After finding them, I threw my now warm beer in the trash and headed home. I felt a little lighter, what with my discovery. I had no clue how to deal with it, but I had time. I just needed to come up with a plan.
*****
By the time morning rolled around, I hadn’t had any sleep but I still felt renewed. I knew what I was going to do. Time was on my side, I just had to keep moving forward. One step at a time, one day at a time.
Locking up the house, I headed in to work. I smiled and nodded where it was expected, laughed at the appropriate places. For the first time I didn’t hassle Jonathan for his daughter’s whereabouts. Inside, I was aching, hurting, empty, but on the outside I was a picture of normality. This was my new normal, the living with the pain and smiling over the hurt. Until I earned Jonathan’s trust back, and figured out where Teagan was, this was how it had to be. I would be his best worker, his top earner, and I would smile. Eventually, someone had to slip and let me know where Teagan was or how she was doing. Until then, this was it. Fuck. My. Life.
Chapter Fourteen
Teagan
Fall was slowly creeping towards winter and I was loving being in my new place, attendi
ng business classes and working on me. Counseling sessions bi-weekly helped with that. I put money down on the old gas station and in my free time I’m slowly getting it to where it would function as a restoration garage. I’m generally happy with my life. For once, I’m standing on my own, doing things for me. But no matter how hard I work in my classes or how much time I put into building the garage, it’s not enough. Part of me is missing, the part of me that still craves and loves Brock no matter what he did to me.
My therapist spends time every session trying to get me to get over him. We talk it out, do activities, I get out and attend mixers with the community around me, but I just can’t seem to move on. The only thing either of us can think of helping is time. Perhaps in time, when the sting of his betrayal isn’t so fresh, and the ache in my heart isn’t so strong, I’ll stop thinking of him. Perhaps.
Right now, it’s hard to not think of him. Thinking of him causes me pain and pain is my weakness. Pain is my drug of choice. I’m not cutting anymore, I haven’t since the night of my breakdown. But if I’m honest, I don’t need to cut because the pain of being separated from Brock is sharp enough to give me the jolt I need. To create the burn and release that sliding the blade across my skin does.
I shouldn’t want him. He was almost single-handedly the cause of my “issues” growing up. The cause of my breakdown as an adult. But he’s also the cause of my growth. If it weren’t for him, for this whole situation, I would still be at home, working for my dad, going through the actions each day pretending like I’m happy but feeling scared and small inside. Not that I traded up. In reality I traded being scared and small to being empty. Where I used to be afraid to be myself, afraid to stand on my own for fear of rejection, now I was afraid of feelings. I can go out, be me, dress however I want for the night, that doesn’t scare me anymore. I can smile and dance with the best of them. But inside, I’m terrified. Terrified that this feeling will never go away. Terrified that if I truly let the feeling in, I’ll end up right back where I was in the beginning.
So, empty or not, I function. It’s not a bad existence. Not everyone can say they are actively working on living their dream. I love my classes. I do well at them; apparently I’m smarter than I let myself believe. But it’s an empty existence. I live day to day, trying to look forward to the day when I’m done with my classes, when I can open my shop, when I can feel joy again. Until that time, I just function. I like my life, it’s just not complete. Something, someone, is missing and I don’t know how to make that go away. Maybe I don’t want it to go away. Maybe that feeling reminds me I am alive still. Maybe I am hooked on the pain. Maybe. There are a lot of maybe’s in my life.
*****
Damn. One downside to mountain living has to be the snow. I mean, it’s pretty and all. On a card. In small doses. At Christmas time. But I’m so over it. There has to be a good foot of fresh powder covering the ground this morning. Walking to classes, or even the short distance to the shop, does not look pleasing currently. I want to make more hot chocolate and curl up on the couch with a new book instead. But that’s not an option. Its finals week and I absolutely cannot miss my first ever finals. One semester almost in the books. Who would have thought?
One and a half years left. One and a half years until I could finally open my shop and live my dream. I smiled into the mug, the steam from the cup and my breath fogging up the window in front of me. I really, really like that idea. One and a half years until Fully Restored would open its doors. And it was all mine. My money, my sweat, my tears, my work. My shop. My life.
I turned my wrist over and looked at the thin silver-ish lines crisscrossing my arm, matching the more new, red-ish ones on my thighs. My reminder of what this new life of mine cost. I wouldn’t fall backward again. I would take these tests this week and ace them getting myself one step closer to my goal. One step closer to what would hopefully be my ultimate happy. One step closer to free.
*****
Finals went well and Christmas was approaching. I don’t know what to make of this situation as this is my first major holiday on my own. I decorated my little place the best I could, hiked up the mountain and cut down the perfect tree to decorate, even though I currently have no decorations.
My dad was coming up to visit me, so that saves me from having to return to town to see Brock at the shop, but it doesn’t mean Dad won’t be filled with Brock news. This is what scares me. What if all the good, self-actualization, self-motivation work I have been doing is easily brought down by my love for him? My thirst for knowledge of him? My therapist is hopeful that this may give me the closure I need to move on, but I’m not so sure. I think for closure to work, you have to want it and I’m not sure I am done with Brock yet. He’s still a part of me, like it or not.
Because of the company coming, I’ve determined to spend my next couple of days cleaning and decorating the house. I want my dad to see just how much better I am doing on my own. I need him to see it.
By the time I hear tires struggling up the snowy path to my house, I think I’ve got just about everything in order for the time being. I’ve got coffee brewing and finger foods and Christmas cookies set out. The house as a few red and green decorations hanging in it. But my most prized possession is the tree. I didn’t have any traditional ornaments but I did have a garage full of old car parts and a pretty damn good welder. My tree, hung with found art made from recycled car parts, absolutely rocked. It was me. Everything about it screamed Teagan! The using of former trash items and rising them up to importance and beauty. The theme of cars itself. And overall, the theme of restoration, second chances. Every time I saw that tree I had to think, did I get a second chance? When?
The doorbell rang and in walked my dad, covered in about fifty layers of mountain gear.
“Dad, you know Evergreen is only about 45 mins from Denver, right? You aren’t going to freeze or disappear up here.” I smirked. Flatlanders always messed up when packing.
Dad looked up at me and literally growled at me. Well. Whatever.
“There’s hot chocolate, coffee, and snacks in the kitchen, after you undress, help yourself to it, okay dad? Did you bring anyone? Someone special?” I giggled.
Again, I got the death glare, “When, by chance, do you think I would have time to date since I am currently covering your ass at my store”
Ouch. But in reality, “Dad, I quit. I told you I had my own ideas and needed to take care of me. If you didn’t hear that or chose not to listen that is purely your fault. Have the guys step up more or hire a new person. Either way, I am not coming back. I’m happy here, in school and setting up my own shop. Fully Restored is going to be my baby and you need to move on to something else. It’s Christmas for fuck’s sake. Let’s just let it go and have fun and eat too much, okay Dad?”
He grunted and walked inside, shedding layers as he went. I guess that was a yes. I followed him through the house, picking up all the clothing remnants as he went and tossing them into the guestroom. When I got his stuff organized, I found him with a glass of coffee in front of my huge TV watching Chasing Classics. Good choice dad. I grabbed a cup of coffee and went to sit with him.
It was silent for a while, one of us mentioning how nice a car was now and then or how little or much they went for. Finally I turned to my dad and had it, “What’s on your mind Dad?”
With a massive sigh, he set his cup down and lowered the volume as he turned to me.
“Mecum auto-auctions is coming to town in a few weeks and I wanted to talk with you about your ‘Cuda.”
“You mean Phoebe?”
“Damn. Yeah. Phoebe.”
“What about Phoebe dad?” Now I was slightly worried for her, being that she had been at dad’s shop this whole time with no one to look after her. I was a bad car mommy.
“Well…” he continued, “I was thinking, since you aren’t really working on her anymor
e, and since she could bring a pretty penny to help you set up your shop, I think you should sell her.”
Silence. Dad had his head down. He had to know what a suggestion like this would be met with. I took a deep breath, “Dad, Phoebe is mine. She will remain mine. If you don’t want her there I will have her towed here in the morning. She’s not to be sold. She’s the heart of my entire growth process. I will finish her, and when I do, you can guarantee the person I finish it with will be the one I stay with. Leave Phoebe alone. End of.”
With that, I effectively ended the conversation and turned up the TV. There was a nice ’69 Mustang hatchback up right now. Pretty. Dad did what dad’s do, he let it go and we moved on to the show together.
*****
By the time I had dinner out I could tell my dad was seriously trying to hold something in. When we sat down and said grace I stopped him, “Dad, I know something is bothering you. Spill now. Don’t wait to ruin the entire dinner. Hit me with it now. I can handle it and if I can’t I have my therapist on speed dial okay? So, bring it.”
Dad shuddered a little and reached into his pocket to pull out a thick white envelope. Holy shit. Had Brock moved on? Maybe I wasn’t ready for this. My hand trembled as I reached for the letter. Dad grabbed my wrist, “S’not Brock,” and then handed the card to me.
Not Brock. He hadn’t moved on yet at least. My heart rate began to moderate and breathing cleared up. Apparently I wasn’t as over him as I was pretending to be.
I looked at the simple white and silver enveloped addressed to me with a touch of fear and a lot of nervousness. Was I ready to come out of my self-enforced bubble up here? I opened the card to see that Meghan and Justin were finally getting married.
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