Not So Happy Trails
Invitation
In late July, I received an early morning text from Helen inviting me to join her and her dog for a walk on the Calavera Hills Trails. She assured me the invitation had nothing to do with the email I’d sent to Cody about me dropping out of the race.
I accepted. I looked forward to the conversation, though I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.
Ramble On
We started the walk silently for a few minutes. I thought Helen had something specific on her mind. Evidently, she did not.
“So, it looks like Cody’s campaign is going well.”
It was enough to get Helen talking. She filled most of the hour-long walk with a rambling, low-simmer monologue. I didn’t say much, and she didn’t ask about my campaign. I just listened.
She complained about Cody—her ego, the way it was expanding along with her rising profile. We both agreed: Cody had real charisma, probably honed during her years as a champion athlete. Helen said she knew little about that part of Cody’s life. Helen's conversation seemed like a way she could talk about Cody without reference to their breakup.
But she shared a couple of stories about her and Cody when they lived together, veering into parts of their relationship. She told me about the time she caught Cody rifling through a box of clothing Helen was going to take to the local LGBTQ+ Resource Center. She had obviously tried on a few of the items. It was said matter-of-factly, without drama or conclusion, but it must have bothered her.
I couldn't think of anything reasonable to say, but I then felt comfortable asking Helen about how she was doing following their breakup.
She said she was doing okay and that she had just started dating.
“I went out with Wally a few times, but I think he wants to have children.”
I thought for a moment. They made a pretty good couple—two attractive high achieving people. I liked them both.
She continued, “I mentioned to Cody that I sometimes run into you at the Farmers Market. She got really annoyed. Can you believe that?”
I didn’t know what to say. Honestly, I’d lost the thread of the conversation pondering Helen's relationship dilemma. But something clicked. Maybe she'd been using me—to get back at Cody, to stir up some jealousy, who knows. It seemed a little weird, but I was OK with it, whatever it was.
We kept walking. I focused on the morning air, trying to enjoy the silence, which lingered like the breeze.
“I guess you didn’t really want to hear all that,” Helen finally said with a laugh.
I couldn’t think of a good response, so I just smiled giving another chuckle.
The Blackburn Incident
Suddenly, Helen changed the subject.
She brought up the incident at Blair’s house party—the one involving Councilmember Blackburn dressed as a police officer hassling partygoers. Dee, she said, was pressuring Blair to make a public statement. The plan was to confront the City Council, call for an investigation, and accuse Blackburn of abuse of authority under color of law.
Cody wanted nothing to do with it. Helen wasn’t a witness to the incident, but she was looped into the ongoing conversations between Dee, Blair, and others. Dee had asked her to help Blair draft a statement. Helen, like Cody, didn’t want to get involved.
She sounded exhausted just talking about it.
After a pause, she added softly, “The tension in Cody’s campaign is just getting to be too much.”
Sounds of Silence
I waited. I thought she was about to say she was leaving the campaign.
But she didn’t.
We walked a bit longer in silence. There was nothing left to say. I found the conversation intriguing but useless. I never told anyone about it. Never shared the details, or even that we’d walked her dog together.
I was surprised to receive a text from Helen that evening that simply said, "Thanks for letting me vent today."
"My pleasure."
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