You better make it count cuz you can't get it back

I spent all of my relationships questioning everything, wondering where it was going to go. I was scared of being hurt, scared of hurting others, and in the end all the worrying usually led to causing pain all around. People say to let it go, just let it happen. It sounds so easy – who wants to worry all the time anyway? But I just never could figure out how to do that.

Then it just happened. I can’t tell you how I did it. Maybe I just go too tired to worry about what I had very little control over. Maybe it was because I was with Drew, who I had already hurt and been hurt by, and I knew that even though it wasn’t much fun, I did come out the other side OK. Maybe it just finally clicked that worrying wasn’t stopping the bad things from happening, so just to quit it. I don’t have any idea what happened, but when I left Drew for Colorado, I wasn’t worried. I knew whatever would happen, would happen. I couldn’t stop the future from happening, I could just ride the waves until I reached the shore.

That’s not to say going back to Colorado was easy. I missed home more than I thought I would, and I think the girls picked up on it. We didn’t go back to as bad as we were, but I knew that we would never have the bond that I did with my camp kids back home. I still tried though, and I think they did appreciate that. When it was time to go back home, it was Santana who volunteered to drive me back to the airport, and it felt an awful lot like our first day all over again. I didn’t bother trying to make conversation though, and neither did he. The more I sat, the more guilt I felt. I was doing exactly what he accused me of doing when I first arrived. I wasn’t in it for the long haul, I was just someone else who didn’t stick around. We rode in silence. We walked into the airport in silence. And standing in front of him at the terminal, I didn’t really know what to say, or if he’d say anything. I couldn’t read his features, I couldn’t tell if he was as disappointed in me as I felt he was.

“I know you’re disappointed in me for leaving, and I’m sorry.” I finally blurted out.
“Oh Ella.” He said, pulling me into a fierce hug. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I’m sorry I said those things. You fought a hard fight, and it was one more battle we won in the war, right?”

I nodded against his chest. I knew there was no use promises Santana that we’d stay in touch. We wouldn’t. But I was thankful for the time I got to spend with him, and I knew my life was better because of him.

And with one last squeeze, I turned and boarded the airplane. I didn’t look back. I was going home.

The funny part is though, I assumed I was going home to my old life. My old house, my old job, my old boyfriend. Shortly after I arrived home, my life got turned upside down.
The agency had received emergency funding which we thought was going to save us. I was all set to go back to work when I got the call that the emergency funding wasn’t going to come through. We had enough money to survive the week – and that’s if we cut down to a skeleton crew. I was asked not to come back. They simply couldn’t pay me.

I showed up anyway, as did the rest of the staff. We volunteered for that last week. We laughed, we cried, we told stories, and piece by piece, we packed up a building that was a big piece of who I was. I realized in recent years it had left me a little unsatisfied and disgruntled, but I really did love the agency. I loved the people, I especially loved my kids. My kids… What would they do without me? Who would they become without me? Would they be OK? Would I be OK? I don’t want to come off as egotistical, like I was these kids whole worlds but…. For some of them, we were the only adults who checked their homework. The only adults who asked how their day was. We were the only constant, the only source of rules and discipline, of interest and love. We were their safe place to go, their one last meal of the night. And now that was gone, and we had so little time to prepare them for it. I thought back to Santana now, of how we would become just another group of people who disappeared from their lives… And why? Because some politician decided some other organization needed the funding more. Maybe they did need it more… But, I’d like to know what criteria they were following, how they could make such a decision? It seems anymore we live in a world where you have to choose between the good things while getting hammered with an abundance of bad. I’m off on a tangent now, and that of course, doesn’t really matter. It was over, that’s all that mattered.

Saying goodbye to the agency was like a breakup – one that I took rather hard. I took to driving by the building, and sitting outside, watching it. (Yes, I was the creepy stalker girl in this breakup.) I wasn’t worried about another job – my Dad had let me know that I could work for him until I found another one. It was just… Worrying about my kids. Missing them. Feeling like I lost a piece of me.

Then Matt announced he was leaving. My Dad had offered him a job as well, but he denied it, and decided instead to go back to his original agency to see if they could incorporate some of our ideas into their agency. I wanted to tell him not to leave, to stay. That him leaving made this whole things a million times worse. But… I didn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t ask him to stay and not give him a reason too. I knew part of his reason for leaving was to get space from me, and I just couldn’t ask him not to do that. I let him go, and then I regretted it and felt selfish for regretting it.

Of course, when it rains, it pours. Two weeks after Matt left, my house caught fire. Faulty wiring. Everything wasn’t a loss, but there was a lot of damage, and after everything else, I just sort of lost it. I had figured I was coming home to my old job, my old friends, and my old life, and I had none of that.

I did go to work for my Father, but it didn’t last too long. That business is not the business for me, I was bored out of my skull. However, it did lead me to my next job. I now work with homeless teens, and using my father’s contacts, I am able to not only find them housing, but also occasionally able to hook them up with my father, who gives them work. I still miss my agency kids. I still talk to some. Some are doing well – I have a girl whose mother died and whose father is a crack head who is currently doing very well at a certain Big Ten school. I have another girl who although she had a baby, is currently taking very good care of that baby while putting herself through nursing school. I have a boy who just got a football scholarship. We’ve had our losses too – ones I don’t particularly like to think about, and we have the kids we’ve been unable to reach and have no idea where they are or what they’re doing. I’m not the praying kind, but I do send a prayer up every night for them.

Matt and I do talk, occasionally, but he tends to keep conversation short, and usually via some form of text communication: text messages, emails, chat on facebook. I’m sad about how it all went down, but I also understand. I think to some extent that I am Matt’s Jason. I hope that in time, we can be like Jason and I are now, and I hope that he’s not so busy looking at me that he misses his Drew.

Speaking of Jason, we’re finally back to a normal ground. It was awkward, seeing him when I was with Drew, and I never really was sure how to act. And then it just clicked, and we act just how we did when we all first met. Jason’s still in the Marines, but I have a feeling this will be his last go round. There’s a girl, and it’s looking pretty serious.

Drew is working for my father, which they both love. Drew loves building, and my Father is over the moon to have a “son”. It was weird at first, and to be honest, I was actually quite jealous in the beginning, but now I’m just glad they’re both happy. My Mother has warmed up to Drew as well, as much as my Mom CAN warm up to someone. We still haven’t worked out our issues, and I’m not sure we ever will, but at least she’s acting like she’s happy for me, so that’s an improvement.

As for Drew and I… Well, we’re good. We’re great, actually. After the fire, we decided to sell. The house wasn’t beyond repair damaged, but I know I felt that the house just had so many memories, and I think if Drew was going to move in with me, he wanted a place that was “us” rather than “me.”Drew. Through it all, he was amazing. When I was losing everything left and right, I raged pretty hard, but through my fits of crying, my dramatic ranting, my depression over another guy leaving… He was the old Drew. My rock. He handled me without making me feel like I was being handled. He took care of me but allowed me to feel like I was doing it all myself. And when he finally pulled me out of the funk, he didn’t mention it. Didn’t rub my face in it, didn’t treat me like I was some fragile being who was going to break at any moment. He just loved me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life loving him because of it.
I don’t really know what’s going to happen. I feel like Drew and I are probably headed for the alter, and probably sometime in the near distant future. But, I try not to worry about it. Whatever is supposed to happen will happen.