Where are you, Drew? And Why? Part 3

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I notice the car made some funny noises. The parking lot attendant gave me some strange looks, but he didn't speak any English, so he remained silent. As I got out onto the main street, I noticed the car was lopsided as well as funny-sounding, so I pulled over into a parking space. I got out and saw that my back tire on the driver's side was flat. I managed to call AAA from a pay phone -- those were the days before affordable cell phones -- and prepared myself to wait for assistance.

The help never came. I called AAA repeatedly, and finally realized they weren't going to come. I pulled my tire-changing paraphernalia out of the trunk and tried to do the work myself. Two hugely-muscled body builders from the gym across the street were watching me from a distance, making sure that I would be OK, as I had sweetly refused their help. Any half-wit could change a tire; surely I could do it myself, right?

Meanwhile, from my vantage point on the ground, I thought I kept seeing the same car passing by me over and over again. I guessed that there was some unfortunate soul driving around this sad part of town, hopelessly lost, but I was in no position to help him or her. Finally, I realized that I just could not break the seal on the lug nuts to get the tire off the car, nor could I manage the jack properly. I turned toward my guardian body builders and mouthed the words, "Please help me." They immediately got out of their car and ran over to help me.

I sat in between them and handed them the tools as they made short work of my tire change. It was kind of nice to be on the receiving end of such chivalry, especially by such good-looking young men. It was such a contrast to the last dregs of my relationship with Drew, and it boosted my morale. Just as the two men finished helping me and got the flat tire into the trunk along with the tools, that same car that had repeatedly passed by me did so once again. The driver honked the horn loudly; poised between the two muscle-men, I looked up and saw that it was Drew at the wheel. I started to say "Hi, what are you doing here?" but as he cruised by, he gave me an angry sort of salute and sped away.

At first, I was too happy and grateful about being rescued from the impending darkness to think about what Drew's gesture could have meant. However, the next day, when the auto repair shop told me that the tire must have had a rim leak because they could find no punctures, I realized Drew must have followed me to work, waited until no one was looking, then let the air out of my tire. It's a pretty childish thing to do under normal circumstances, but in a bad area of town, this kind of vandalism could have gotten me attacked, raped, robbed, or even murdered. He had cruised by repeatedly, enjoying watching me struggle as the sun began to set. I have learned that a stalker will sometimes disable a victim's car, then show up like a white knight unexpectedly and save the day. This manufactured crisis, however, didn't seem like an attempt to redeem himself. He was enjoying watching me suffer, and he made no effort to help me out of the predicament he had caused.

He still owes me for that tire.

I told my mother about this incident, too, and she told me I was nuts. It couldn't have been Drew who let the air out of my tire. He was too nice a man to do that. She said that I was imagining things.

But my mother was a great believer in misdirection, especially when it came to me. Deception, subterfuge, plotting, scheming, and misdirection. She managed to hide the worst of the awful truth about the situation for 23 years, until I finally understood what she and this man had done behind my back.

The story continues in Part 4, in the next blog post.....