Chapter 6 Gina
Gina
As I responded to the auditor’s questions, I did my best to limit eye contact with Kimberly. Most of her friends called her Kim, but since the first time we met I’d used her full name, somehow liking it better.
I’d been nervous about this audit before I knew that Kimberly was going to be here. Now I was a wreck, although I was doing my best to hide it. I was using all the anti-anxiety techniques I’d learned in therapy to keep from hyperventilating. Focusing on Mary instead of my ex-girlfriend helped.
“Walk us through the journey of one of your clients please, Gina.”
I spared Kimberly a quick look, then focused back on her coworker.
“Most of our clients are referred to us from the family homeless shelters. They’re typically either long-term homeless, survivors of domestic violence, or both.
Due to their bad experiences they almost always have PTSD, anxiety, and depression in addition to other mental health diagnoses.
They all have ACE scores of at least four, but most come in at six or higher. ”
“ACE scores?”
I paused to answer Mary’s question.
“Adverse Child Experiences. It’s a test to evaluate things in people’s childhood that put them at greater risk for things like health or behavior issues.
High ACE scores are associated with diabetes, alcohol or drug dependence, impaired executive function, even cancer.
Part of what we do in this program is help clients navigate toxic stress and heal. ”
I could feel Kimberly watching me, her gaze warm, almost proud, before she schooled her expression.
“We start working with families while they’re still homeless,” I continued.
“We help them move into transitional housing where we work on income, employment, getting kids caught up in school, and both individual and family counseling. We take a person-centered approach, and the families set their own goals for when they leave transitional placement and move into permanent housing. Once in permanent housing, we have a housing retention rate of ninety-six percent after one year, the highest of any family program in the county.”
“Here are our post-program survey results,” Rochelle added, pushing copies of the report across the table. “We conduct them anonymously, so people feel comfortable giving us honest feedback about their experience in the program.”
By the time we broke for lunch, I was exhausted. After agreeing to meet back in the afternoon, our auditor guests left to find lunch, and I went back to my office to eat my own lunch and do some meditation to help me get through the afternoon.
The break-up with Kimberly along with my subsequent job loss had been devastating.
I’d spent a solid month on my couch, eating M&Ms, drinking whiskey out of the bottle, and watching bad TV while crying.
Finally a couple of my friends had intervened, coming to my apartment, forcing me to get dressed in real clothes, and giving me some tough love.
“You need therapy,” my friend Joan said firmly.
“You need to get outside and breathe fresh air,” Susan, the friend who’d introduced me to Kimberly said. “Enough with the moping.”
They’d been right, of course.
I spent a lot of time over the next six months working on myself.
Getting healthier, including resuming a running routine that I’d let go when I was with Kimberly and getting into the habit of weekly food prep so I wouldn’t rely on take-out.
And I started therapy, both a support group and individual therapy with someone who specialized in working with people who were victims of childhood abuse.
I learned a lot about myself, and how I acted in both personal and professional relationships.
Eventually I came to the understanding that it was highly likely that I’d falsely accused Kimberly of cheating.
It had been a stunning revelation that rewrote my understanding of our relationship.
Wanting to make amends, I’d texted her asking to talk, but she’d blocked my number.
When I saw that I was also blocked on social media I figured it was all for the best. I couldn’t undo what happened, and even if I could, I wasn’t in a place for a serious relationship anyway. Not until I worked on myself.
But now that Kimberly was here, I really needed to woman up and do the right thing. I wasn’t expecting her to forgive me or anything, but I did want to apologize for the pain I’d put her through. At the end of the day I decided to be brave.
“Kimberly, can I speak with you privately before you go?”
“Is it about the audit?” Kimberly asked, her voice carefully neutral.
Her colleague looked between us curiously and I cursed myself for not trying to get her alone first.
“No. It’s… personal.”
She gave me a look that could freeze fire. “Then it’s not appropriate for us to talk.”
She grabbed her stuff and stalked out of the room, Mary hurrying to catch up with her.
Sighing, I headed back to my office and texted my therapist to see if she could work me in for an emergency session.
Seeing Kimberly had brought up a lot for me, and I’d learned over the years that the best way to move past difficult feelings was to work through them.
The next morning the four of us were back in the good conference room. Today I was wearing my ‘court’ outfit -- the one I wore when I was called to testify in client custody cases – black dress pants, a simple blue blouse, and a lightweight black knit cardigan.
Allison stopped by to say hello to the auditors, bringing muffins.
While Kimberly didn’t partake, the rest of us did.
Baked goods were a treat we didn’t get too often working in a non-profit.
According to the schedule, Rochelle and I would only be with the auditors in the morning and the last hour of the day.
In the time in between they were looking through our program files.
“I know it’s short notice, but is it possible for us to interview any of your clients tomorrow?” Mary asked as we ate our muffins. “Even one would be good, but two would be better.”
Client interviews hadn’t been on the list they’d sent us, but I wasn’t surprised by the request. The last minute request and presumption that our clients would be available rankled though.
“Are you going to pay them?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“Pay them?” she repeated, like she was confused.
“You’re being paid to be here. We’re being paid to be here. Seems like our clients’ time is just as valuable.”
My eyes met Kimberly’s and for just a second, her ice queen facade dropped. She’d heard me complain about this very issue many times and knew that it was a standard question I posed to anyone asking to talk to clients on site visits.
“We don’t have funds for that,” Mary replied, looking put off.
“I’ll see if we have any gift cards from donors then since we can’t use your funds to provide them either,” I shot back.
The state denied our requests to give people gift cards with the argument that they’d use them for alcohol or cigarettes, which meant if we wanted to help a family with gas or groceries I had to send a caseworker with the family to buy everything. It was such a pain.
“If our clients are going to take time off work or spend time away from their children and take the bus down here to our office, I’d like to make it worth their time.”
My eyes bounced back to Kimberly, but she was staring at her notebook, lips rolled in like she wanted to laugh. Next to me Rochelle chuckled under her breath.
“Great, let us know if you can arrange it,” Mary said brusquely, clearly done with my nonsense. “We have a lot to cover today so let’s get started.”
A few hours later I was at my desk, squinting over the latest budget projections. My back twinged, reminding me that I hadn’t moved from my chair in several hours. With a sigh, I pushed to my feet to stretch and head to the restroom.
I was standing at the bathroom sink washing my hands when the door opened.
Kimberly walked in, coming to a halt when she saw me.
Since I’d seen her this morning she’d twisted her hair up into a bun and secured it with a pen.
She always got impatient with her hair being down for too long, saying it scratched her neck.
She looked good though, the simple wrap dress she was wearing somehow both professional and sexy as hell.
“Hi,” I said, striving to be casual. “How’s it going in there? Do you guys need anything?”
“No,” she said shortly.
Presumably, she had to pee, but she was just standing there, so I figured she was waiting for me to leave. I tossed my paper towel in the trash and turned to walk towards the door to give her some privacy. Her voice stopped me.
“What did you want to talk to me about yesterday?” she asked reluctantly. “I have to admit that I’m curious.”
I held up a finger, then walked past the three bathroom stalls, making sure I didn’t see any feet. Once I was sure we were alone, I walked back to her.
“I wanted to apologize,” I started. “I would have done it sooner, but you blocked me and I didn’t know how to reach you.”
Well, I could have gone and waited for her outside her old job but that was too stalkerish, even for me.
“What are you apologizing for exactly?” she asked suspiciously.
This was my one chance, and despite all the times I’d practiced in my head what I would say to her if I got the chance, the words came tumbling out of my mouth in a rush.
“I’m sorry for what happened when we were together.
I was a shitty girlfriend and I know that.
I’m sorry that I treated you the way I did, and I’m sorry that I accused you of cheating.
I know now that I was wrong. I was a mess back then, which you know, full of suspicion and insecurities.
I also recognize that we moved in together too soon without getting to know each other properly, and I let my insecurities and past baggage ruin our chance to have something long-term.
I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while that I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
“Do you know that the woman you accused me of cheating on you with was my cousin?”
I winced. “No, I had no idea.”
I’d figured it was a friend I hadn’t met yet, or maybe a coworker.
“Then how did you come to the conclusion I was innocent?” Her voice was sharp, like she didn’t believe what I was telling her.
“After we broke up, well after I kicked you out, I lost my job and I had a little breakdown and wound up in therapy,” I said.
“One of the things we worked on was dissecting what happened with our relationship, and as I talked it out with someone neutral, I realized I’d likely misinterpreted things.
Just because you were having dinner with someone, that didn’t mean you were cheating on me.
I know that now and if I’d given you a chance to explain what was going on instead of freaking out, maybe things would have been different.
Or maybe we just weren’t meant to be, but either way, I sincerely apologize for all that I put you through. ”
I took a deep breath and forced myself to look at her. “Doubting you was the biggest mistake I ever made and I just wanted you to know that I know I was wrong. It was the biggest mistake of my life, and I lost the woman I loved because of it.”