is writing it all out.

This is another creative writing project. I have told this story before on my blog, so it isn't anything you haven't heard before, but this is another retelling in a different format. I think my thoughts are a little more organized about this topic. I was so emotional when I was writing about it at the beginning of the year that the quality of the writing wasn't as good.

This is a rough draft. Be kind. :)

At the point of the mountain (the place I found out my boyfriend is gay)

When we reached the point of the mountain our conversation ran out. John wasn’t much of a conversationalist past “I like your hair”, and I occupied myself by watching the hills pass by. The houses seemed too visible from the road on their naked slopes. Trying to distract myself from the situation wasn’t working; all I could concentrate on was my rabbiting heartbeat, shallow breathing, and above all other things, him. I tried to look over at him as often as I could, but then I got nervous about that. I couldn’t let him know I was nervous and when I started worrying about that, I broke out in a cold sweat too. Then I got bold, I glanced over at John and waited for him to say something. After a few agonizing seconds he cleared his throat and started in his typical way, “Sooo, I wanted to talk to you about something.” His choice of words really sucked every time he wanted to say something important. In my mind I screamed, What is it? I couldn’t handle the suspense after what he’d put me through.

“Yeah?” I tried to sound casual, but my elevated, breathless answer gave me away.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said to me. In September. Do you remember that?” He seemed to wince.

“I think I remember that.” I sarcastically answered, half-smiling. Of course I remembered. I went to his house at 11:30 at night to make him let me in so that I could tell him my most agonizing secret in the most awkward way (which I incidentally hadn’t thought through clearly enough because it was so much worse than I thought it would be). I’d kept my feelings in for almost the entire year, but not totally hidden. I am not capable of subtlety. He already knew, but I had to know the answer. So I placed myself at his mercy. I called him on my phone from his doorstep and he answered the door after about five minutes, looking thoroughly annoyed and red-eyed from studying at his computer for too long. I sat down on his couch, probably to avoid falling over when my blood rushed away from my extremities to my over-active heart. I said to him, in essence, what I’d written in a second-grade note: do you like me? Check yes or no. He grinned too wide and gave me exactly what I’d been expecting, a polite no. After my blubbering turned to the “why?” part of the conversation, he succeeded in shutting me down without much explanation, according to his generally abrupt style. I claimed then I hadn’t wanted an explanation, but seriously! I was perfect for him, couldn’t he see? I ran out as awkwardly as I’d entered and started crying as soon as my feet hit the frozen pavement outside his house—I didn’t stop crying for the rest of the night.

“I realized that I was wrong.” What?! My thoughts stopped suddenly at that moment and I put my head in my lap. I didn’t want to scream out loud and scare him away again.

That was when I became John’s girlfriend. It was actually one of the best days of my entire life. I held his hand all night. I made him dance to stupid Harry Connick Jr. songs. It was paradise. Unfortunately, the newly rekindled flame led me to write some pretty heinous love poems to accompany it:

My hope led me to think that you
Expressed in every minute act
Some gentle and encouraging clue
To contradict the looming fact

That you had softly answered no
And with that gentle answer tore
My heart and left me in the throes
Of longing, ever wanting more

Rejected, but love never died
I found a peace within at last
My mind at ease, but in a lie
I answered that my dream had passed

Until a moment, unexpected
You came to me, as in my dream
My broken heart was resurrected
Could things be really as they seemed?

I am very sorry to subject you to that kind of thing, but I just want you to know how far gone I was. Yes, I actually thought this poem was good enough to post on my blog. It’s amazing that it’s legal to do that sort of thing. Poor John even saw it himself. But before I tell you about our breakup, which was inevitable after a poem like that, I want to give you a little insight into why I liked this guy so much. He wasn’t as unfortunate as I made him sound in the beginning.

When I first met John he was a squeaky-brand new return missionary. I think I even commented on his “shininess.” He was especially shiny and new. Like a new toy. I just had to get to know him and he presented a unique challenge. He was the reclusive, nerdy type that never really got out and just sat in his room getting paler every day while staring at his computer screen and reading Wikipedia for fun. In my naïveté, I thought he needed to get out and socialize. What better for socializing than hot tubbing? I promptly invited him to come along with me and my roommates that night. At the first mention of entering what would certainly prove to be a den of iniquity, he backed into the hallway (which was off-limits to girls), protecting his still shirted chest with his trembling, pasty hands. I put my palms up in the air as a gesture of peace—just so he knew I wasn’t going to rip his clothes off him. I assumed the look of panic on his face was post-mission weirdness and I let it go, just for that night. But alas, I don’t give up easily. I continued my method of “socialization” by calling daily, coming over uninvited, hanging out in his living room, and basically letting him know that I wasn’t going anywhere until he accepted that I was a part of his life. His life was further complicated when he became my new home teacher and more opportunities to infringe on his kindness presented themselves. And really, the more I got to know him, the more I liked him. His innocence was endearing, and he was very patient with my continuous efforts to get him to notice me.

I soon learned that not only was John a tedious nerd, as I’d first assumed, but he danced too! What a combination. There were so many interesting sides to him. His list of talents was enough to turn any typical BYU male green with envy: he spoke French along with the Russian he learned on his mission, danced almost every type of dance there was, cooked, liked foreign films, fixed computers, got straight A’s, and he was always studying for the law school entrance exam—the LSAT, which seemed entirely too responsible considering that he wasn’t applying for another year. It was disgusting, just about everything he did, he did well. I even liked his quirks like the way he rubbed his eyes when he was tired and did pirouettes in the kitchen—really, too cute. I imagined that he liked my quirks too. Maybe he did. After I calmed down a little, we started spending almost every weekend together—still at my request—and I hoped that he would soon see that we would be perfect together. I already knew it, of course. My decision-making has always been like super-glue: instant and immovable. I agonized and pined over him. I couldn’t imagine a better guy than him. After all, we had so much in common. Well, the list is failing me now, but I was certain that we connected in a way I never had with any other guy. I could literally go on for hours about why we should be together to any person who could stomach it. My bad poetry hit a new low with this lengthy phase of unrequited love:

When nothing's on my mind
he is.
My weary thoughts return
for what?
To teach my heart to learn
to shut
itself against a love that blinds.

Or rather, I should learn to dwell
on one
whose love's expressed in deed
and word.
My soul would then be freed
assured,
if I could but undo the spell.

Ah, but luckily my nights of watching Sabrina and crying alone soon ended. We started dating in the beginning of December. This is how dating John went: I would go over to his apartment almost every night and sit on his couch while I graded papers. Every night I hoped that he would finally kiss me. I kept waiting for a night that would be special enough. I didn’t know if any night would ever push him over the edge, but two days before we broke up, we sat watching the snow fall outside the window and hearing the shrieks of his neighbors making a snowman. I thought to myself, It had better be tonight. As he walked me to my car we passed the debris of a fallen snowman in the parking lot and I couldn’t help but make the comparison to our relationship in my mind. What was happening to us? Did he even like me anymore? I tried to avoid the answers to these questions and instead focused on how the snow sifted down on us lightly and made the scene seem perfect. I squeezed his hand expectantly. Do it tonight. Seriously. When we got to my car, I bear hugged him around his middle and didn’t let go until he got the picture. When I looked up into his face he looked back and leaned in a little. It was fairly hesitant, but I tried not see that. I needed a tighter grip on him and our arms couldn’t reach around each other completely because of the bulk of our coats, so I squeezed tighter. Now. He answered my wish with a small, misplaced peck on the corner of my mouth. It was in almost the same place as the first kiss I’d ever received as a six-year-old. Like he’d never done it before. I tucked my head into his neck, unable to process what had happened. What was that? He tried to explain, “I bet you’re wondering what took me so long.” Of course I wondered, but instead I said, “It’s okay. I’m just glad you did it.” He kissed me a few short times before letting go. It wasn’t enough for me, but I pretended like it was enough. I asked him if I could tell my best friend and he nodded. It was like waiting for a prize in the mail after months of collecting coupons and upon receiving it, breaking it in the first five minutes. Nothing could have been more unsatisfying. I got into my frozen truck quickly, but peering out the icy windshield I saw him shuffle back inside with his head down. I saw disappointment in his walk but tried to read it as him huddling in the cold. I couldn’t shake the feeling the something was wrong. I waved at him, but he didn’t see and then he was gone. Ignoring my insecurity, I called my friend and bragged. “He did it! It took him long enough.” I shivered and ran through the yellow light on the way back to my apartment.

We never kissed again. Two days later he came to pick me up and take me to the airport to go home for Christmas. Finals were over and I was packed, but I didn’t really want to leave. I felt like I was leaving more than school behind, and I must have understood that before I knew. He didn’t hug me when he came into my apartment to help me with my bags. I pretended it didn’t bother me. Grabbing the last of my stuff, I got into his car and tensely clutched his Christmas present—a bottle of Victoria’s Secret “Very Sexy for Men” cologne—close to my chest. We exchanged gifts, talked about last-minute things, and the conversation ran out again at the point of the mountain, as usual. I tried to fill the void this time, because I was scared. Upon asking him what I perfume I should buy with the gift card he bought me, he just started ahead and made an exasperated sound. He cut me off before I could try to smooth out the discomfort again. Another silent eternity passed. I was glad at least for the houses—the hills were white this time and they hidden under the snow, away from prying eyes. Then he broke the stillness, “Sooo, I need to talk to you about something.” I patted his knee and gave it a squeeze, probably to his disgust.

“Say what you need to say, sweetie.” I couldn’t think of anything that required this phrase besides a stronger declaration of his feelings. He loves me. Does he want to marry me? I pushed all my doubtful thoughts away. He was the one. We loved each other. He was mine. My happy train of thought was interrupted as he continued. “I don’t know how you’re going to take this.” I continued patting his knee while my heart sank.

“Just say it.” I still smiled, but I was gritting my teeth as the anxious feeling that accompanied our first serious discussion in the car returned.

“I deal with SSA, same-sex attraction. I have known about it since I was in high school.” I put my head in my lap to avoid screaming. I was horrified to realize that I wasn’t surprised by this fact. It all makes sense now. His declaration sounded like he was telling me that he was terminally ill.

“Same-sex attraction?” I didn’t know what it meant when he first said it. Then it registered. He’s gay. I shook my head as I started to cry. My mind processed the thought first and then my heart kicked in and I felt my insides wrench. Does that mean we can’t be together? “What does that mean? For us?” I just had to ask. And it got worse.

“I knew that it wasn’t going to work out the second day we were together. I can’t pretend anymore.” He sounded drained.

“Wha—I don’t understand!” I really didn’t. No one had ever told me they were gay before. I didn’t even know that guys at BYU could be gay. I choked on tears and sobbed, holding onto his leg for support. What happened to my perfect guy?

Sadly, this was the only time that we didn’t run out of things to say for the rest of the drive. We cried together as he managed to keep us going in a straight line in the carpool lane. I moaned and bawled at my shattered dream. I told him that I loved him before I got on the plane adding “but not in a romantic way,” even though I did. He tearfully told me that I needed to hurry or I was going to miss my flight. That Christmas break was probably the worse one of my life. Another bad verse follows:

December 20th

Love seemed as though a cruel joke
I nodded numbly as you spoke
And told me that your heart was true
But there was nothing you could do

Desire is a razor's edge
A heart is not enough to pledge
I begged for you to let me stay
You sighed and wiped the blood away

The keen blade glinted, never fading
A vision blurred, my eyes evading
The truth before me stark and cold
Am I the only one you've told?

I bawled and stuffed airplane shaped crackers into my mouth on the plane. Since when did I become an emotional eater? I looked to the passenger next to me, a young guy in army fatigues and I think he was pretending to be asleep so that I wouldn’t try to talk to him. Probably the best course of action for him in the present circumstances. So, I got out my journal started writing as I continued to sob and tears peppered the page like bombshells on civilians. The first words I wrote were “I feel like Satan has played a cruel joke on my happiness.” I had to find someone to blame and only the devil could be responsible for something this terrible, right? God would never do this to one of his children. It did not occur to me at that moment that I was supposed to learn something from the spontaneous combustion of my dreams. I cried my nerves raw and all that was left of my mascara lingered under my eyes in two dark smudges reminiscent of the undead.

In my lack of subtlety, I didn’t know what to say to anyone but the ugly truth. When I got off the plane and my sister came to meet me by the baggage claim, she asked me if I was okay. Not exactly. I wanted to scream to the entire terminal JOHN IS GAY! I almost did.

On a more positive note, I prayed that night more fervently than I had in years. I knew if I believed that God would make all of this alright, that it would be. And not entirely wanting to, at the end I did tell him, “Thy will be done.”

After Christmas break was over and my fantasy world had self-destructed long ago, only the smoke remained. The truth was more visible in this way, but it didn’t mean my pain was gone. It took me at least another month to wake up in the morning and feel like I wanted to get up. I did know some new things, however. I had dated and loved John, but he wasn’t perfect for me, even considering his SSA. He wasn’t going to be mine, but my life wasn’t ruined and neither was his. I wasn’t angry with him or myself. I didn’t blame anyone. I suppose that itself is a gift. I loved him enough that I could accept reality as it was opened to me. Life would continue, we would be friends. The smoke would blow away eventually and sunlight would come back into my life.

Last week John drove me to Family Home Evening along with some friends of ours who are a part of our ever-expanding circle of friends with SSA. I am still amazed at how many I know (and knew, unwittingly). One asked me, “is it true that you dated John?” The whole car burst into laughter.

“Yeah, I did.”

“So what was it like kissing him?” One boy asked, stifling a grimace.

“It wouldn’t have been good if I didn’t know he cared about me”—a nice way of saying it wasn’t that great. I looked into the rear view mirror to catch John’s reaction. We both laughed at the awkward memory. The rest of the drive to FHE was filled with joking and talking, without even a pause when we drove past the point of the mountain.

writes geeky fan fiction.

In lieu of reading Crime and Punishment tonight, I wrote four pages of how I imagine the next book in the Twilight series might go. Read on if you want Bella and Edward to end up together. I rate this 'T' for teen because it does deal with some post-wedding issues. But it's clean, I promise. I will be adding more soon.

After Eclipse

Why am I so miserable that it isn’t raining on my wedding day? The clouds over Forks decided to part for this blessed occasion and I just keep wishing they’ll come back and hide me. It isn’t that I didn’t want to marry Edward. I love him more than anyone, ever. I’d made my choice and Jacob knew that. But I also knew that Jacob was missing. He was now endlessly running through the Quileute forests; he might never be human again. It’s all my fault. Even now, my chest felt tight as I suppressed a new sobbing episode and a tear trickled down my face, but thanks to Alice’s foresight, I was wearing thick layers of waterproof mascara. Edward squeezed my white, gloved hand and the coolness blurred my vision of Jacob running through the underbrush, howling. I looked at him and tried to smile, it came easier than I thought as I gazed into his golden eyes. He numbed my stinging cheeks with his breath and I buried my face in his neck. “Edward, I love you. You know that, right? No matter what, I chose you.”

“I know that, Bella. I don’t have to read your mind to know. You’ve given up a lot for me, maybe too much. Are you sure you are ready to go through with this?”

“Don’t ever, ever ask me that question again. I am ready. I want to be your wife.” I practically stomped my foot. He grinned and kissed the top of my head.

“I won’t doubt you again. You’re turning out to be much tougher than I ever imagined. I may not need to turn you into a vampire…” He chuckled in his effortless way. Soundly punching him in the gut only made my fingers hurt, but he pretended to get the wind knocked out of him.

“Now don’t start with that! You’re going to do it. Otherwise, you know I have a backup plan.” Even though he was standing more than twenty feet off, Carlisle looked in my direction and raised his champagne glass. He winked at Edward and turned to Esme, engaged in conversation again.

Edward let out a sigh and quickly pulled me to his chest, slightly crushing my crisp, white dress. “I’ll do anything for you after today. Anything. You just have to say yes.”

“I already did. And I’ll say it in front of everyone.” I looked into his eyes once more and they pled with me. I nodded and smiled resolutely. Then Alice came for me.

“Bella! You need to come with me. Why are you out here in the foyer conversing with my brother! He can’t see you before the ceremony! My plans are ruined!” She looked honestly angry with him.

“Now Alice, Bella came and got me. She can’t be away from me and you left her tied up in curlers for hours. Be fair.” He looked at her with his head tilted at a childish angle and she gave up.

“Just come with me, we’ll still make him surprised.” And with that she firmly grasped my hand and took me back into the cursed dressing room. After twenty more minutes of powdering, primping, pinning, and other tedious aspects of making me beautiful, I still couldn’t outshine the angels who stood next to me looking into the mirror, Alice on my right and Rosalie on my left.

“She’s perfect.” Alice breathed in relief.

“Truly, she is.” Rosalie agreed. “I couldn’t think of a thing more, except this.” Digging into her pocket, Rosalie pulled out a delicate, antique brooch carved out of ivory. “It’s 'something old.' I wanted to give it to you. It was a present from my mother, for my engagement.” She pinned it at my neck, and the effect was striking, even on me. The muted shade of ivory played off my neck and I touched it in gratitude.

“Thank you Rosalie. This means so much to me.” I knew how painful the memories of what would have been her wedding were. I thought I saw her squint her eyes as if to cry, but no tears came.

“You are making a big sacrifice, but I think you’re doing it for the right reasons. I love Edward as you do, he will never betray you. I know now how much you mean to each other. If you ever thought that I disapproved, I want you to know that I don’t now. I can only be happy for you.” Shakily placing my veil over my face, Rosalie kissed my cheek and I felt her cool breath tame the redness that was building in my face. I was ready. As much as I hated the trappings of a traditional ceremony, I would do anything for Edward, just like he would do anything for me. We were beyond this. To kneel at a padded altar meant nothing compared to the promises we’d already made to each other. This was minor compared to what was coming. I almost laughed at my former anxieties, then I picked up my bouquet and stood ready at the door.

Charlie sidled up to me, almost embarrassed and I slipped my arm under his. “Dad, I love you. Don’t ever forget that.” I said dad and this time and I meant it. Charlie had become more to me in the past year than he’d ever been. His frustration with Edward was worn away and he stood next to me as any father would, terrified that his daughter would be entrusted to someone else. Someone new. That his role as primary caretaker was being diminished.

“I love you too, Bells.” He meant to say more, but he couldn’t allow himself to cry, and then the music started. It was not a traditional wedding march, but a much more ornate version that Edward had composed himself in the weeks prior to the wedding. All the Cullens tired of hearing the familiar melody, but I didn’t. I was mesmerized and I walked down the entire aisle without tripping, Charlie taking longer strides to keep up with me. I locked my gaze with Edward’s and I never faltered, to his surprise. He was bracing himself to pick me up off the rose petal-strewn carpet if needs be, but it wasn’t necessary. I lightly tripped up the stairs to the altar and let Charlie kiss me tenderly on the forehead before he placed my veil over my face again and sat in the nearest pew. I hardly noticed his departure before Edward took my hand. Shivering involuntarily, I turned to him and smiled. “Are you cold?” He mouthed.

“No.” I mouthed back. “Just excited.” My smile stretched farther than I ever thought it would and his matched. No thoughts of Jacob were near my mind at that moment. As the music faded out and the guests settled back into their seats, I glanced over at the stained-glass windows that were filtering in soft sunlight before the ceremony. But the sunlight was gone, replaced by thick clouds. Before the priest even started speaking I heard the patter of raindrops and it soothed my raw nerves.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Edward and Bella. Let us all remember that love is…” But I didn’t hear any more than that. Neither did Edward. In the back of my mind I faintly heard my mother sob with each line the priest uttered, but I stared into Edward’s eyes, never looking away. We repeated our vows, slipped rings onto each other’s fingers, but we couldn’t break away from the moment. Then the priest soundly tapped Edward’s shoulder and repeated himself for the third time, “you may now KISS the bride.” We snapped out of our reverie and my breath caught in my throat as Edward kissed me. When I thought he’d pull away he didn’t. It was almost embarrassing. But I didn’t mind. After nearly two minutes of this, he pulled away, smartly grabbed my arm and the congregation laughed, then clapped. I laughed along with them and we practically ran down the aisle, my feet grazing the floor and stirring up petals in my wake.

Jasper stood ready at the door of the Vanquish, which had been decorated by Alice. It almost seemed inappropriate to stick flowers and write "just married" on a car with that kind of power. Luckily she opted not to put clanging tin cans in the rear; she was much too tasteful for that. Carlisle pulled Edward aside and whispered something in to his ear, placing what looked like airline tickets into his tux pocket. I winced and knew it was something expensive. Then I glanced over the crowd. My mom and dad stood teary eyed in the front of the throng. I pulled away from Edward for just a moment. “Mom, I love you. No matter what happens, I will always love you.”

“My only daughter!” She practically sobbed. “I love you too. I am happy for you sweetie. Now, I want to talk to you about a couple things before tonight…” she trailed off, looking secretive.

“No! Jeez mom. Absolutely not. You already had your chance. Don’t make me embarrassed!” I looked into her mascara-streaked face seriously.

“Alright then. But you remember, we Swan women are…”

“Ugh! Don’t even finish that. You aren’t allowed.” She smiled too wide and I turned beet red again. At that moment, Edward saved me. He put out his hand and hoisted me into the car in one movement, train and all. I hung out the window waving to everyone and tossed my bouquet as a continual cascade of petals showered down along with a light rain.

Driving off a little too quickly, Edward lightly steered with one hand and pulled my veil off with the other. “Don’t mess up my hair!” I couldn’t believe those words were coming out of my mouth. He didn’t answer, but fervently kissed my neck, not looking at the road. Before I could even gather myself, he’d reduced me to my former state of fainting at every kiss. My mind swam in and out of consciousness as he covered my face, neck, and arms with kisses. I gasped for air and blindly grasped for the window button, unsuccessful at rolling it down. Before I knew where we were going, we were parked. He pulled me out of the car at the edge of a forest. I knew this place, but my knees buckled under me and he scooped me up, already running.

My senses sharpened under the canopy of trees and I knew where he was taking me. I kissed his neck in return as he carried me on his back to our meadow. Upon arrival, I noticed it was different. In the middle, by a patch of purple wildflowers, was a spacious, white tent. The rain turned to a downpour at that moment and we scrambled inside. “Did you do this for us?” I realized the question was stupid as soon as I asked it. Inside the tent was an array of flowers, and surprisingly enough, the ornate bed he’d bought for me only months ago. I had no idea how he got it there. And then it hit me, he wasn’t kidding. This was it.

“Mmhmm. I did.” He said little, playing with a lock of my hair.

“So, uh… what about the reception?” I realized that we would be wanted back soon.

“It’s taken care of. We’ll be there on time.” He breathed in deeply and expertly pulled a pin out of my hair, allowing it all to fall down in one movement. I sat on the edge of the bed, drumming my fingers on the gold, embroidered duvet. Biting my lip, I looked at my feet. Edward looked at me, puzzled. “Are you nervous?”

I couldn’t answer and my hands shook. It wasn’t expecting this reaction. Every day for the past two months he had put up numerous boundaries so that I would keep my end of the bargain. But now, my insecurities surfaced. “What is it?” He asked, holding my trembling fingers.”

I looked into his now calm eyes and regained my composure. “It’s just… now, it’s real. You are my husband. I’m your…” and before I could say it I started crying.

“Bella! What’s wrong?” He looked worried. He pulled his silk handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed my eyes. “Do you regret what just happened?”

I shook my head. “It’s just overwhelming. You’re… mine.” And I sobbed again, burying my face in his Armani suit.

“What can I do? Tell me.” He implored, stroking my cheek gently. I turned my face away from him and blew out some air.

“Just lay by me for a minute.” And I turned on my side, facing the flowers. He aligned his body next to mine and held me tightly to his chest. He kept whispering reassurances in my ear. After a few minutes, waiting for reality to set in, I turned back over to him and kissed him unexpectedly. I blushed.

“Hi Mrs. Cullen.” He smiled his wry half-smile and before I knew it, he was balancing his body weight over me.

“Hi.” I nervously giggled. In the blackness of his tux I felt safe; I knew he would never hurt me. I knew I was his forever. “So, um, about the promise?” I sheepishly whispered, kissing his neck.

“Oh that?” I heard a low growl build in his chest and I involuntarily squealed.

* * *

We made it back to the reception on time due to Edward’s above-average driving skills and, of course, driving the Vanquish helped a little. Stumbling in the door, Alice immediately pulled me aside and thumped Edward on the chest with her miniature fist. He shrugged and she dragged me into the dressing room again.

“Is this a twig in your hair? Where did he take you?!” As if she didn’t know. She worked quickly, pulling out a small bit of moss and rearranging the pins in my hair with little regard to my comfort.

“Ouch!” I reached back and she slapped my hand away. In only a couple minutes my hairdo was restored to its former glory. No one would ever suspect. I grinned and giggled to myself, glad that no one could read my thoughts.