Chapter 13

That last night we had together, I left to take a shower at around 6:00. We were both so tired. Both unwilling to let sleep take over – that would make the few precious moments we had left pass too fast. When I came back upstairs, he was asleep. As I kneeled beside his sleeping form on the couch, we woke up with a start. When he saw who it was, he gave me this look. It was a look of complete infatuation. A look of pure love. I had never seen anyone look at me that way before.

I thought it was forever. I thought it meant more. I thought it meant anything.

His letters started out with the same emotion that he had given me when he looked at me that night. Love. Adoration. Praise. Fidelity. Loyalty. He would tell me he loved me. That his favorite memory was when I fell asleep in his arms. That he couldn’t wait for me to come home and go on more roller coasters with him. That every Monday was like Christmas because those were the days when Chicago would peek out of his mailbox.

Before two months were out, he started dating some girl named nancy. She was in his ward. She was a elementary ed major. She was petite and innocent. I remember the day I got that letter. I had to sing in a fireside.. I felt numb.

She didn’t last long. He said that I was so superior to her that he couldn’t even enjoy her company after spending time with me.

The months passed. I grew dimmer and dimmer in his memory, as he grew brighter and brighter in mine. One day, I got a letter.

I started dating this girl, it said. Her name is Hannah and she is from Salt Lake. It has ended up far more serious than I could have anticipated.

I hope all is well with you, and I hope we can be best friends when you come home.

Every type of heartache is the same. Every type of pain. It starts out as a throbbing in your heart. A dead, weighted throbbing. Eventually the throbbing takes over your whole body, the pulsating of the heartbreak eventually manifesting itself as racking sobs. The window over my bed showed swirling black and purple skies; there was a tornado warning that night.

He tried to be my friend when I came home. I told him it wasn’t going to work. I told him I needed my space.

The truth is, that if he had wanted me when I came home, I would have been his.

And still I dream he’ll come to me

And we will live the years together

But those are dreams that cannot be

And there are storms we cannot weather

I loved him so powerfully that sometimes it scared me. It took me 10 months to even start to feel okay about it. And now?

I don’t know.

Sometimes I wonder what I would do if he came back. If I would be the strong, independent heroine people see me to be. Or if the dormant love I have for him would take over. It really is like a volcano – it isn’t gone. Just hidden. Vesuvius, ready to blow at any moment.