Fully Restored (15 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Teagan

F
all was slowly creeping towards winter and I was loving being in my new place, attending 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 anymore, 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.

The tears immediately started flowing. My best friend, who had admitted to being terrified of love and commitment had found someone she was willing to work on bringing down those walls together with. It was a way out, the date set for next New Year’s (apparently they wanted a new life together to start on New Year’s and this one was too close) So, in one year from now I would be back in that town, with the people that I ran from, for her wedding. Only, this time I wouldn’t be the Teagan they can manipulate or push around, and if they want to gossip, I would do my best to give them something good to gossip about. I was a new person. A harder one, a braver one. I didn’t think I was happy yet. But sometimes, in short flashes, I felt a brief burn of happy across my face. It was then I reminded myself what I was doing all this for.

*****

After an amazing dinner, of prime rib and roasted veggies, Dad and I were currently bloated out on the couch watching some home improvement show that focused on remodeling the owner’s house, while someone else convinced them to buy new instead. I always rooted for loving it. The family had ties to the house. Sure the new house had bigger and better things, but the old house, it had personality. Hmm…not gonna look any deeper... just enjoying the show. When one show finishes and another begins I hear my dad rustling up.

“Anything I can get you dad? More food, dessert, a drink?”

“Naw, but I need to tell you something else, not related to that wedding invite. Although I do hope you come, if just to see Meghan. She misses you a ton.”

Yeah, I was a shitty friend. I up and left my best friend behind with her own troubles. But it seems she has figured them out without me. I’ll call her tomorrow. Maybe.

“So, dad, what is this other news?” though in my gut I already knew what it was.

“Brock still asks about you.”

My world stopped spinning. It’s one thing to know that I was not moving on, but quiet another for him. I mean, he was only in it to get me, to tear me down, right? But if that were the case, wouldn’t he have quickly moved on? There were plenty of women that had to want him. This whole turn of events threw me for a loop. Could he have really loved me? It’s a little late now, but maybe by the time of the wedding I’ll be able to face him and see what there is left there. If there is something we can rebuild to a friendship. We’ll see. I look at my dad, “Thanks dad. Tell him I’m fine. Taking classes and opening up my own shop.” That should give him something to think about for a while.

It was getting late and I felt the need to make a phone call so I excused myself from the television and headed to my room, closing the door. Once locked inside I pulled out the wedding invitation. She wanted me to be maid of honor. WTF? We haven’t seen each other in months. I needed to call her.

Picking up the phone I dialed the number I knew by heart and heard a voice I didn’t know how much I missed until now. A sob wracked my throat.

“Teag? Is that you? Are you okay? Hello?”

I could hear Meghan’s flowery voice fill the room. Struggling to get air in I answered with a shaky, “Yes.”

That was all it took. With a squeal, Meghan was off and running, telling me of all the amazing things she had planned for her wedding and would I do her the honor of being her maid of honor?  Still stunned by the onslaught of news I said yes and she squealed again.

“I really want it to be a male review bachelorette party. You know, like Magic Mike or Thunder Down Under, okay? You can do that right? You have a year.”

She stopped to breathe, finally realizing I hadn’t said more than one word.

“Erm, how are you doing? What are you doing?”

I thought about it, “I’m doing well, I’m back in school, just aced my first finals. In fact I should be done with my business degree shortly after your wedding.”

Meghan wouldn’t let that go, “And what do you plan on doing with that degree?”

Standing tall, even though I knew she couldn’t see me, I said proudly, “I’m opening my own shop.”

Pin drop.

Meghan had nothing to say.

Meghan was all about Meghan. This was why we had gotten along so well.

I was easily malleable and did what she wanted.

Now, I’m not.

I’ve got my own plans and future.