If Our Love Story Was a Novel
I’d been denying it for months.
But when Samantha handed me a note from her brother Ben and my heart slammed against my chest, I knew I couldn’t any longer.
I liked this boy.
I’d been trying my best to deny it, believe me. But looking back over the past three months, it was painfully obvious.
By how I went out of my way to go to the grocery store he worked at, because maybe, just maybe, he was working.
By the way I changed my outfit multiple times for a fishing outing that wasn’t even supposed to be a date but maybe it was and does this shirt make it look like I’m trying too hard?
By the way I had to bite my lip to stop the silly grin from bursting across my face if we ended up sitting by each other at Wednesday night youth group.
“Thanks,” I mumbled as I stuffed the envelope into my purse, in agony that I couldn’t tear into it immediately. Pick it apart and analyze every word.
I did my best to put the note out of my head during my time with Samantha, but after dropping her back at her house, I ripped it open with shaking hands.
Hi Sara
If it could work out I would like to talk to you about something at like 8:00 after I’m done with work. If it works to meet at Memorial Park by the pool then, that would be awesome. It would take less than a ½ hour. Please make sure that this might be OK with your parents.
If it works out, leave me a voicemail or come and tell me in person. Or my break will be around 5:30-6:00.
Thanks Sara!
Ben W.
He’s gonna do it this time, I inwardly squealed. He’s gonna fess up that he likes me too. He has to! What else would he have to tell me that he couldn’t at school or church?
But maybe not. After all, I’d thought he was going to do it two nights ago at the river as we sat on the edge of his rusted out 1981 Toyota pickup, legs dangling and cold cans of Dr. Peppers in our hands.
We’d talked about just about everything but our feelings for each other.
So maybe it was just me who had those feelings. And maybe this conversation was to put all of that to rest. Let me down gently before I got more attached.
Confused, I got out of my car and slipped back into my house, sinking down quietly on the couch. As perceptive as only mothers are, my mom narrowed her eyes and asked, “What’s going on?”
I fingered the note in my lap with burning cheeks, the eyes of both of my parents and my two older sisters boring into me. I hadn’t exactly been the most convincing actress these past few months—I was smitten, and they all knew it.
Sucking in a deep breath, I opened up the note and shared it with them, crickets sounding when I finished.
“Oh my gosh. He’s gonna ask you out!” my sister Emily insisted.
“Oh no, I don’t think so,” I argued, my cheeks darkening further.
“Well, what else could it be?” my other sister Katie asked.
“I don’t know…” I whispered, renewed hope pouring into my heart.
“You know, it’s going to be dark by the time he gets off work. You sure you wanna meet at the park? Why don’t you just meet him at Hy-Vee?” my mom suggested.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” I agreed. Then, realizing my restricted driver’s license wouldn’t allow me to drive myself home from wherever this little meeting took place, I sheepishly asked for a ride from her.
I had to be dropped off by my mother for the most important, life-defining conversation I’d ever have.
In a minivan, no less.
But I didn’t mind it too much, because I knew how much my mom like this boy, too. She’d been dropping hints about what a nice young man he was even before I came to that realization myself. We’d attended the same church since early elementary school, each of us in the backgrounds of the photos our parents had snapped at Christmas programs and other church events. And it was evident, even as a sixteen-year-old kid, that Ben was special.
Kind. Thoughtful. A silent servant, content to fulfill needs in the background, no thanks necessary. He didn’t need—or want—to be in the spotlight. He just wanted to live a faithful life.
And I wanted in on that life.
I glanced over at my mom as we rolled up to the grocery store entrance. “And you’re sure it’s okay he gives me a ride home?” I asked.
“Yeah. Sure. See you at home later,” she called with a small smile playing on her lips.
After hopping out of the car, I finally let the grin burst across my face. He was gonna do it. There was no doubt left in my mind.
The grin widened when I caught sight of the mop of curly hair that had been dancing across my mind for the last three months. Somehow, he made the ridiculous grocery store uniform—white shirt and a bright red tie—look good.
Sucking in a deep breath, I ventured into the casual dining are of the store and slid into the booth across from the most nervous set of eyes I’d ever seen.
“Oh. Hey!” he said, brightening. “I got you a Mello Yellow. And some Smarties.”
“Smarties, huh?”
“I eat these things all night,” he admitted with a nervous laugh, pushing a few over to me.
Though the texture reminded me of chalk, I grabbed a roll and began to unwrap it anyway. It was something to keep my hands busy, and I wasn’t about to pass that up and give away how nervous this all had me feeling.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Ben finally broke it. “So. I have something to tell you,” he began, sending my heart pounding. “I uh. I kinda…like you. And I was wondering if…maybe…you liked me too?”
And that’s it. Four little words—nothing flashy, nothing over the top—just a sweet, simple admittance of feelings.
That’s all it took to change my life completely.
I nodded. “Yeah. I do,” I admitted as a grin burst across his face.
And for the next hour we sat in that booth, laughing over the progression of our feelings for each other. We’d started out as barely friends at the beginning of the summer—sure, we’d attended church with each other for basically our entire lives, but until now, had run in separate circles. But that all changed as our little youth group began hanging out all day, every day that summer, it seemed—on the shores of Lewis and Clark Lake, in each other’s basements for movies nights and junk food, at late-night volleyball games at Memorial Park. This boy who had always just been in the background—well. I didn’t want him to stay there any longer.
I had to laugh at how long it had taken him to realize what was going on, poking fun at how he’d kept me waiting. How everyone at youth group—heck, the entire school—had seen how I felt before he had.
But the wait had been worth it. Oh, how it had been worth it. And preparing us for many more seasons of waiting in our new life together.
Six months of waiting until my sixteenth birthday so we could officially begin dating, slowly getting to know each other around our families and friends.
Eight months of “long distance” dating while he was at college an hour away from our hometown while I finished high school, longing to do life in the same place once more.
Eighteen months of waiting to get to the altar, planning and dreaming of a perfect wedding—of a strong marriage.
All those seasons of waiting—of preparing—they were just as worth it.
But none so sweet as those first few months where my heart was softening towards a boy I’d told myself was never an option. None as magical and butterfly-in-my stomach inducing as falling asleep dreaming about all the possibilities of a life with him.
None as life changing.
Because if I hadn’t of said “yes” to that simple question on October 12th, 2008, I never would have gotten to say “yes” to the rest of it.
