Continued from here and here ...


All the time I was talking, this poor young man sat there on the curb, looking so dejected and forlorn. What I had said was so different from what he had been told by Amy. His mom relayed to me in a subsequent phone conversation that this young man had mentioned that I said I loved Amy, but that I seemed at times to be very harsh in what I was saying. The mom acknowledged I was saying things her son very much didn’t want to hear. He has (had?) plans to make a life with Amy. For over six months, they have had a relationship of sorts. Apparently, he purchased all the furniture before he had a clue that her housing situation was in such jeopardy.


I can’t remember all that I said, but the entire conversation lasted about 20 minutes. It was more a soliloquy, not a conversation. When I was done, I had him walk with me to my car and I left him a business card in case he needed to contact me. I gave him a hug, climbed into my car and left. I did not return to the apartment.


I received two voicemails last night from his mom (I was at a meeting.) He told her he would head home today, but that he couldn’t leave Amy by herself without options. He begged his mom to let him bring Amy home, but his mom declined. His mom has health issues in addition to her worries over her son. Taking Amy on would be a big mistake.


It is my understanding gleaned from another long conversation with his mom this afternoon that Amy and her boyfriend (more the latter, I’m sure) are looking into options with Amy’s friends, or perhaps with her brother Tommy. Tommy apparently offered housing to Amy over a month ago, but through the family grapevine, I learned that Amy very rudely shut him down. Although Kyle did not want me to hear this, apparently Amy told Tommy the “only thing we have in common is our hatred of our parents.” Tommy has most certainly had his issues with the family, but I’m not sure he appreciated her assessment of his feelings; not to mention her total lack of appreciation for what he was offering.


I don’t know what options Amy has. I suspect that anyone who knows her at all will be very reticent to let her move in with no firm endpoint in sight.


Amy’s boyfriend’s mom is doing what good moms do … she’s trying to protect her son. She learned all this information because she was looking out for him and she searched for and found my phone number. I told her some things on the phone, and then sent her to read this blog. In our conversation today, she told me how clearly she “heard” the effort, love and heartache that were reflected in my writings. I burst into tears, simultaneously wondering just how many times over the years the tears have flowed because of Amy? Amy, of course, is very, very angry that my view of her story is on the Internet (and that her boyfriend and his family have access to it now.) I would be too, if I were her. But I’m writing what I am living … I just wish it was fiction.


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