After
one of the best days of my life, and getting into the sorority of my choice, I blissfully
made it home around 1am. It had been a long and exhausting day; class then
straight to open our bids, which had led to endless dancing and screaming for
the next few hours with my new sisters. I sat down in my chair, ready to start
my assignment due in the morning, but I thought a quick phone break would
suffice before getting to work. I started scrolling through my social media
accounts, looking at photos and catching up with everything. I saw a message
icon in my direct messages in twitter. “I’m home.” I felt a pit in my stomach and
hot tears started streamed down my cheek. It had gone from the best day to the
worst in a matter of seconds.
~
Senior
year, this was it. Our last year to enjoy being adolescents before entering “the
real world” and heading off to college. Well at least that was my plan, but as
for more than half of my class and friends had something a little different in
mind. I still remember waking up on the morning of October 6th 2012
and checking my phone, endless texts and twitter notifications, the message
being “ the mission age was changing from the normal 19 for young men to 18 and
21 for women to 19”. I burst into tears the moment I got the news. Although a lot of others might not have
realized the impact it was going to have on all of us, I did. This meant a not
only a summer but my whole freshman year of college, and the next two years with
at least half of my best friends sprawled across the world doing “Gods work”. I
was upset, not only that I was angry. It wasn’t fair. The church can’t do that,
they are still kids they need one last summer they need their freshman year and
the church was going to be taking this away from all of them, from me. It was
selfish of course, but I didn’t care. Being one of the only people that wasn’t LDS –in my friend group and community, this was very
hard for me. Everyone else was excited, no ecstatic that the age had changed the
age. They could not wait to turn their papers in and discover where they would
be heading for the next two years.
As senior year went on, I went to each call
opening to support my friends. Each time I would come home and mark the date on
my calendar that I would be losing another friend, and when I say losing, I had
a good reason. I had known plenty of older kids who had gone off on missions. I
had written them via email or letters because they were my friends. I missed
them. I wanted to see how they were doing and hear about their adventures. But
it always ended the same. Conversations started out fine: how have you been?
What have you been up too? Normal things like that. Then the pamphlets and
testimonies would start coming. I would get sent pamphlets about the church,
several books of Mormon, and pages and pages of testimonies of how this church
could make me “ the happiest person in the world”, As soon as I got those I
stopped replying, and another friendship was gone. I was; frustrated that my
friends wanted to change me, I was happy just as I was, I didn’t need anyone
trying to change me.
And
it was fine, I dealt with it all, it wasn’t until my best friend Chad got his call that I started to freak out.
I was going to lose my best friend in four short months, but I had no idea what
was going to happen in those next few months. The more I thought about it I realized
who am I going to watch Vampire Diaries and eat Café Rio with every Thursday?
Who am I going talk to when amazing things happen? When terrible things happen?
The
weeks went on, and prom was shortly approaching. Chad and I went to different
schools but he had ended up asking me to his senior prom. It would be both of
our last dances of our high school career. It was such a beautiful April night
the air was warm and the sky was bright. I had the most amazing pale blue sequin
dress on, big loose curls in my hair that fell to my hips, and heels that I
could barely stand in. I felt butterflies in my stomach as I heard the knock on
my front door. As I glided down the staircase I saw him standing there looking
at me, but not the way he usually looked at me, this time it was different,
tonight was going to be different. He was wearing a nice fitted black tux, and
a pale blue tie that accented his striking eyes. He was holding a white daisy boutonniere,
my favorite and we were off. We drove up the canyon to this quant little
restaurant in the woods. It was simple but rustic and beautiful. The food was
exquisite; lobster, steak, potatoes sautéed vegetables, the works. There was a
pianist playing soft tunes and dim lit candles illuminating every couples
glowing faces. Across from the restaurant was a beautiful waterfall, it had
bright green moss behind it, it was alive. We made our way to the dance and
everything was perfect. As I laid my head against his chest and we swayed to
Frank Sinatra humming in our ears, I knew tonight was different. Here came the moment of truth, the doorstep
drop off. Is he going to kiss me or not? He hugged me tight, for a long time as
though if he let go he would lose me forever. As he pulled away he kissed me,
his lips trembled a bit. I think we were both nervous. It was soft and slow but
short as though our lips had barely brushed. I grinned and thanked him for the
beautiful night and shut the door. I sank down and rested my hair against the
door and touched my lips and blushed. This was the first time I had kissed this
boy since I was in 8th grade almost four years ago what was I
supposed to feel? We were just best friends
~
It
was dark and a little bit chilly. I had shorts on and I could feel the stubble
growing on my freshly shaved legs as the wind blew through me. We walked hand
and hand to the rickety wooden bench in search of the great super moon. We sat
there and he held me and we didn’t need to say anything. I didn’t feel as
though our time had to be filled with pointless babble, we could just enjoy the
silence together. I looked up to see the brightest moon I had ever seen
illuminating the sky, and in that moment I knew I was in love. At that exact
moment I knew it was too good to be true.
~
Seven
days until he leaves, I need to spend every moment I can with him. But all I’m
getting from him is things like “Sorry I have family time, they said you cant
come” or “I’m busy reading the scriptures, I’ll talk to you later” or “I’m
sorry I can’t go on the date, church stuff with my family”. They all started
with sorrys and reasons why I would never be allowed in his world. I knew his
family didn’t want me around; I was just a distraction a reason why he would
want to stay.
~
Grilled
chicken, steaming fresh corn, and everything else you could imagine, it was a
feast. We all talked and laughed as we sat with his family and ate. I felt like
I was a part of them, I felt accepted. We played cards after dinner; Chad and I
were on a team. Of course we dominated. I was about to leave with a big smile
on my face until his family said I should stay for scripture reading, something
I didn’t feel extremely comfortable with, but I didn’t want to be disrespectful
of their culture and I knew it would make him happy. It went around in a circle.
His father then his mother, his sister, his other sister, me then Chad. As
Bonnie, his sister, started to read her line I figured Chad would skip me and
start to read my part, knowing I wouldn’t want to read. She finished her last
line and everyone looked up at me, Chad included. I hesitated to read the alien
verses in front of me as quick as I could. I just needed to get out of there,
and so I did. I made sure to never stay at his house past 8pm anymore scripture
time.
~
This
was my last day with him for the next two years, the last time hearing his
voice, the last time feeling his kiss, his arms around me. I picked him up at
5:30 that morning to watch the sun rise in the same place we had gazed at the
moon two and a half moths ago. But walk to the rickety wooden bench just off
the trail was different than the last. He was distant, his mind was somewhere else,
and my hand was empty. He slowly put a stiff arm around my shoulder and handed
me a yellow daisy. As we sat there watching the sky fill with pastel oranges
and soft warm yellows, the sky was ablaze but I had never felt so dull. We sat
in silence just the way we had before. But things were different, he had
changed. We sat there for thirty minutes as the sun warmed our skin, our last
moments alone.
~
8pm,
thirty minutes left with him and everyone is trying to get their goodbyes in
before he is set apart to serve in Taiwan for the next two years. I feel flustered. He’s closest to me. I
should get his last moments with him. His family will have him for the rest of
the night and until they drop him off tomorrow, everyone is fine but I’m not. It’s hectic and everyone is
hugging and crying, myself included. “Time for him to go, say your goodbyes”
his mother shouts and everyone rushes to hug him goodbye. He gives me the last
hug, kisses me on the forehead and say’s “I love you, I’ll see you in two” ,
then hoped into his gold van and drove away. I continued to sob for a good
fifteen minutes on his front lawn as my friends held me and assured me that
everything was going to be okay. It was time to go so I got into my car. Eyes
blurred with mascara, I stalled and rear-ended my best friend’s car parked in
front of me. They took me home and we binge ate ice cream.
~
Three
weeks had passed and life was good again. I had adjusted. Freshman year was so
exciting and I had never been happier. Everything
in my life had changed. I moved out, lived with roommate, and was starting
college. My classes were easy and started late, which meant lots of sleeping
in, and lots of partying. I sent Chad Dear Elders each day telling him about
what had happened that day and they would print them off the next morning for
him to read. It was almost like he was getting notes from me everyday. I got my
third email from him on a Monday as usual. But something felt off. He was being
weird. With missionaries, and only having the chance to share a few emails back
and fourth once a week for about an hour, if you so happen to be on at the same
time can be stressful. He started off normal, but as I reached the end of the
email I knew that something had happened. “I have a meeting with my bishop
here, I might be coming home”. My heart sank. He can’t be coming home he is
exactly where he needs to be, we’ve already said our goodbyes. I knew if he
came home things would never be the same, he would resent and blame me for his
return and everything that had happened would wash away. Another email on
Wednesday: “my meeting is today, the next time you hear from me will either be
on Monday or you will know that I am home”.
The
conversation went exactly as I thought it would. He didn’t want to see me,
didn’t want to talk to me. His parents blamed me. They were mad at him for his
choices and that he was home. But they were more upset with me, they blamed me
for everything. He asked me why I wouldn’t change for him, why I wouldn’t let
him show me just how happy I could be. But he didn’t understand why the church
would never be for me, no matter what I said. He refused to meet up and talk to me, and told
me to stop trying to contact him. “You see, it’s the slow knife…The knife that
takes its time. The knife…that waits years without forgetting..then slips
quietly between the bones. That’s the knife that cuts the deepest.” The Knife
was cutting me so deep and there was nothing I could do about the sharp pains
not in my bones, but in my heart. He had washed away everything we had to
please his family. He said that pleasing his family would make him happy. The
only person he was lying to was himself.
It’s October,
it’s Halloween and I’m heading up to Logan for the weekend to go to a big college
dance party at Utah State. This should be fun. We get all dressed up in ripped
black tights, old army coats that smell like they have been sitting in a
closest for years. Black war paint under our eyes, ready to conquere the night.
We were swaying with the crowd, not a care in the world, just having fun with
my friends. The music was so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. It was the
first time I had been happy in months. I suddenly realized that I wasn’t
dancing anymore, someone was holding me but I didn’t know who or why. I looked
up to see those blue eyes staring back at me like they once had, this time with
an apologetic and saddened look in them. I looked up at him, confused to be
seeing his face again, but I turned away. Hot tears streaming down my face as
they once had and I started to run, and I never stopped running.
