Monster Mash

I screwed up.

Since Amy was planning on moving out of the area, we didn't register her for Special Rec activities for this fall, since they don't offer refunds.  What I didn't know at the time was that even if Amy wasn't signed up for bowling, her whole house was, so she would have to go with AND WATCH EVERYONE ELSE BOWL.

Amy didn't move, and she sat and watched bowl bowl on two Saturdays.

I was really proud of of Amy.  I urged her to call Special Rec herself and try to sort it out, and she called, got sent to the appropriate party and left a message.  The week was wearing on, and Amy can't be reached till afternoons and sometimes even then her phone is off, so I gave a call, too, and they said we could register her!  I emailed Amy's house to ask if I should do it, or if they would be doing it, and they said I should, since I'm paying.

So, last Friday, I sent in a registration for Amy for an bowling and social club (Monster Mash Bash and the holiday dinner dance).  I never heard back, but thought it went through, since she got to bowl the next day. Wednesday, I heard from Amy there was no room for her at the Monster Mash, which I thought was odd, because I had been told she COULD go.

Turns out, Amy's house ALSO turned in her registration last Friday and Special Rec used that one.  But her house filled it out wrong, and that didn't get straighted out until Tuesday, however, Friday was the deadline for registration for the Monster Mash Bash.

So, despite the fact that this makes NO SENSE, Amy can't go.  I sent email, talked my face off on the phone.  The answer is NO.  I hung up the phone, and then bawled my face off.  Then I call Annie and bawled some more.

Amy can't go and I feel like such a screw up. Amy going to the monster mash was how I was going to have a good time this weekend, knowing she'd had fun. If I had followed up and been more diligent, then she's get to go.  I feel at fault for this, and for the fiasco with her move.

Amy called me last night.  "What's wrong, Al?"  And I let it spill, how I tried to straighten it out but couldn't, how I felt at fault, how much I love her, and how much she deserves a better life.  How I felt guilty having fun if she wasn't having fun.  And of course, bawling.

Through my tears, I could hear Amy saying softly "It's ok, hey, it's alright, Al."

When I stopped she said "Al, I don't blame you.  It's ok.  I know my life's going to get better.  I know."

I just love you so much, I told her, and this kills me.

"Al, I KNOW.  It's OK."

She called me again a couple hours later.  "Are you by the internet?"  Yeah, why.  "We're singing this song at the thing but I can't remember the name."  The thing?  "The telethon."  Who's the artist? "I can't remember... it's like 'her hair, her hair' or something like that.  Can you look it up?"

I have to try to see myself through Amy's eyes.  Amy's not holding a grudge against me, and I shouldn't either.

I love this girl.