A Decade Spent with You: Part 2 of 3

Age 24: My second year of grad school began much like the first ended: classes began in earnest, football season arrived, and I welcomed Martha Jean back from a study abroad trip she had taken to Europe that summer. While on this trip she posted some pictures on Facebook that showed her with her former boyfriend, who had apparently flown all the way from Seattle, Washington to see her in England. At the time I was unnerved by this turn of events as their relationship was something I thought had ended long ago, yet she assured me that it was nothing to worry about and that she cared only for me. But I felt as if my trust had been betrayed, especially considering that before the summer break she had confessed another visit by this man where the two even became intimate. I started to pull away after the second indiscretion and was confused as to why she would want to spend time with her former boyfriend when she claimed to have feelings only for me. The next few months were rocky until one evening in October when during dinner together she confessed that she was seeing someone else. Strangely enough, it was not even her former boyfriend but a different man altogether. I was very hurt by this revelation, very hurt indeed. In the ensuing months, I spent a good deal of time reflecting on the series of events that led to our break up and realized that she never really cared for me at all. I was merely a placeholder, a trinket to be discarded as soon as someone better came along. My mistake was in loving a girl without finding the words to tell her, while hers was telling a man she loved him without ever truly meaning it. She needed me for companionship as she was still hurting from a previous relationship and I can understand that, even forgive it. But she hurt me very deeply, deeper than anyone before or since and I will carry that scar for the rest of my life.

Age 25: After graduation I was offered a job with a real estate development company in Washington DC and decided to move north. DC was my first experience living in a big city and, despite my initial fears, I quickly fell in love with my new home. I was fortunate enough to have several friends who also moved to DC after graduation and we spent nearly all of our Friday and Saturday nights out on the town. Several women entered my life at this time too. I dated most very briefly, always excited to meet someone new and put my past behind me. While I went on many enjoyable dates, no woman ever captured my heart until I met the most beautiful woman I had ever seen: Ornela. I was instantly smitten with this dark-haired beauty whose olive complexion and welcoming eyes drew me in so effortlessly. She was an immigrant and had moved to America with her family from Albania when she was still a young girl, around the time the war in Kosovo was raging and madmen ruled her country. Without knowing a word of English, she arrived on our shores and quickly began assimilating into American culture as she and her family worked hard for a better life. I was enthralled by her story and could listen to her speak for hours, each word from her lips garnering more respect from me as I found myself quickly drawn to this woman's perseverance and humility. I asked her to teach me a few words in Albanian and did my best to remember the lessons she gave, but truthfully I was a terrible student. Months later in our relationship I would surprise her with words she had never taught me but which I learned to say: "Te dua" which means "I love you"...and I truly did.

My time in DC ended abruptly. The company I was working for was caught up in a scheme that defrauded investors out of $350 million and the owner fled the US to return to his home country of Yemen. Without any income, I was forced to leave DC and returned to Alabama where my parents let me stay with them until I could find another job. So began one of the worst periods of my life, a time where hopelessness abounded and the prospect that my situation could ever get better seemed impossible.

Age 26: Fifteen months....for fifteen months I looked for work without success. Every day consisted of the same routine: Get up, apply for jobs online, eat lunch, apply for more jobs online, go to bed, repeat. The toll that such rejection takes on a man's sense of self-worth after so many months is incalculable, but my trials were made easier by the continual encouragement that my love back in DC offered. For reasons I did not fully understand, my relationship with Ornela continued to flourish as we spoke on the phone nearly every day and made plans to see one another as often as possible. Despite being some 900 miles apart, we decided that the distance between us was simply a minor obstacle to overcome and mutually agreed to see where things developed. Ornela was a rock to me during this time in my life, offering kind words of reassurance and a generous ear, and for that I will be eternally grateful.

Finally, after those long fifteen months had passed, I was offered a job in Houston, TX. The job was with a company I had never heard of, in a field I knew nothing about, and the pay was abysmal. Naturally, I jumped at the opportunity. I packed my world into my car and drove 600 miles west to begin a new life as a genuine Texan, a place I hoped would welcome me with open arms. Yet only three months into that job I realized that I had made a terrible mistake. Desperation for a job, any job, had caused me to accept a position that I was miserable in. With a horribly bruised pride, I resigned from the job and moved back to Alabama, where I pulled what meager funds I had out of my bank account and started my own business. I founded a real estate investment company and bought a small residential property to rent out. After a month of cleaning and repairs I put a "For Rent" sign in the yard and found my first tenant. My career in real estate had finally begun.

Age 27: Despite owning a small business, I found that the meager profit it afforded me was far too small to live on. I needed to return to work. After a few months of searching, I found a job with Prudential in Birmingham, AL. Birmingham was a city that I always thought about relocating to and after living in both DC and Houston I was happy to call Alabama home for a while. The job was easy enough and my two bosses were very kind to me, so much so that in many ways I considered them to be my friends. I used the money I earned in my job to continually buy more investment properties so that every few months it was time for a new purchase. My father and I would ride around Dothan in his old, beat up suburban and look for houses around town to buy, all while talking about future riches and how one day we would both be free of financial worries. These are some of the best memories I have with him as we found something that we are both equally passionate about. I will cherish those simple moments always.

My job was a way to make money and my small business offered the prospect of one day becoming financially independent, but neither of these things was my passion. My true passion is and always has been writing, and I decided that the time had come to try my hand at becoming a professional author. The idea of writing a novel has always appealed to me so I began brainstorming on what sort of world I would like to create within the pages of my book. After several months of jotting plot ideas on scraps of paper and daydreaming about the characters I would give life to, I finally created a full outline of a fantasy novel that I would begin writing. It pulled from many experiences within my own life with some of the people mentioned in this confession taking active roles. I spent several hours after work each day and entire weekends crafting a story that for me has no rival, if only because it is in so many ways my own. But I am a slow writer, and the work drags on far longer than I expected. Yet still I continue writing, finding that my mind is retreating further into a world of its own creation and discovering pearls of wisdom simply waiting to be found.