Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Finals ended, and I headed home for the Christmas break. I knew I would miss Jeff while I was home, but my brother had just come home from a mission and I was anxious to see him again. Besides, my family was coming back up to Utah to ski the week after Christmas so I would be able to spend New Years with Jeff and his family.

While I was home the week of Christmas I did a lot of thinking. My parents tried to give me advice, but they had never met Jeff so I had a hard time listening to any of it. I finally decided that I hadn't been giving our relationship a fair chance. As long as I continued writing to the missionary, I wasn't 100% committed to Jeff. I determined I would stop writing to him... soon. I didn't want to Dear John him over Christmas, but I would definitely do it in the next few weeks. I consoled myself by saying it wasn't necessarily a permanent cut off--if things didn't work out with Jeff I would begin writing again--but for now, I needed to eliminate that distraction.

Christmas came and went, and my family made the 10-hour drive to a rental cabin near the ski resorts in Utah. I had them drop me off at my apartment on the way up so I could pick up my snowboard and car. I didn't see any reason why I needed to rush up to meet them, so I called Jeff and let him know I was back. Then I waited impatiently for him to come over. I turned on the TV, but nothing grabbed my attention so I turned it back off. I rummaged through the cupboards to see if there was anything worth eating, but nothing looked appetizing so I sat back down on the couch. I hadn't realized until then how anxious I was to see Jeff again. It had only been a week, but I'd really missed him. When a knock came at the door, I practically ran across the room to open it. I swung open the door and there he stood: tall and confident, with a tiny smirk on his face. I jumped into his arms, hugging him long and tight before I even said a word.

"Wow," he smiled. "Hello to you, too."
"Hi," I backed away sheepishly.
"How was your drive?" he asked.
"Long. How was your Christmas?"

Before long we were in our usual spots on the sofa: my head on his shoulder, his arm around my back. We talked about our holidays and families and when we'd exhausted those topics, we filled the silence with kissing and hugging. I purposely lost track of time, not wanting to know how late it was and whether my family was wondering where I was. I didn't want the night to end, but we were running out of things to talk about. I wanted to tell Jeff about the decision I made to stop writing to the missionary, but I knew he didn't like it when I talked about the "competition." I wanted him to say something that would indicate he, also, was willing to take the next step in our relationship, but I didn't know what that was. After several minutes of silence, I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind:

"Do you love me?"

Immediately I regretted it.

Why would I ask him that? You don't ASK somebody if they love you, you WAIT until they say it on their own. What if he says no? What if he asks if I love him? Do I? Maybe... I don't know! It's too soon to know these things! Why hasn't he said anything yet?

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I shouldn't have asked that. Please pretend I didn't say anything."
"Carly," he stopped me. "I love you so much it scares me."

His words sent my body temperature soaring. I could feel my cheeks flush, not with embarrassment, but rather with a warm glow that permeated my entire being. He loved me! I tried not to move, not to ruin the moment, but I felt like skipping and jumping and running and cartwheeling all at the same time. I relished the feeling, trying to ignore the inevitable response his words necessitated.

I was feeling slightly guilty for tricking him into telling me he loved me instead of letting him tell me on his time line. If I then didn't tell him I loved him back it would be a pretty mean trick. But this was one area where I didn't want to exaggerate the truth. I knew I cared for him more deeply than I could say, but love? It was a strong word.

For two very long minutes I searched deep inside of myself, trying to see if I could reciprocate Jeff's love. I thought about how hard it was to be apart from him. I thought about the times we'd laughed together, and all the times he'd been there while I cried. I thought about the conversations we'd had about our hopes, our plans, our passions. I thought about what it felt like to kiss him. And as I thought, my mouth opened and...

"I love you, too."

There! I'd said it. And I really meant it, too. Right then, right there, I loved him and now he knew it, too. We cuddled for a while longer before reluctantly leaving the sofa. As we said our goodbyes, we repeated the "I love you"s again, and it felt comfortable. It felt right. I fell asleep that night to the sound of Jeff's voice repeating the phrase over and over again in my head.

. . .

I spent New Years' Eve with Jeff's family and he spent New Years' Day with mine. I turned 20 on New Years' Day that year, so Jeff met my family for the first time at the restaurant I had chosen for my birthday dinner. The restaurant served Asian cuisine and my family had eaten there once before several years earlier. I had liked it then, so it seemed a good choice for that night. What I didn't know is that the ownership had changed and they now specialized in sushi. To my family this was no big deal; they all liked sushi. But I wasn't about to touch anything raw and Jeff was feeling nauseous just being there.

They sat us at a table on the floor. Jeff awkwardly tried to fit his 6'3" frame under the small table while the rest of my relatively short family sat with ease. I opened the menu, looking for anything that was cooked. My dad started rattling off sushi orders and before I knew it the table was covered in sake, hamachi, and maguro. Poor Jeff. He wanted so badly to make a good impression, so he quietly ate every piece of fish and seafood that was set before him without complaint. He was concentrating so hard on keeping the food down that he hardly said a word the whole night.

After he left that night, I asked my parents what they thought. "Well," my mom said. "If you decide to marry him, then we will learn to love him." I was stunned. I wasn't asking her to love him right then, I just wanted to know if they liked him. Granted, it wasn't really fair of me to ask them to form an opinion based on such an uncharacteristic depiction, but I'd hoped for a little more than "we will learn to love him." I sulked in my room that night, wondering if it was wrong to marry him just to make her eat her words.

*Note: Mom, I love you. We all know this is water under the bridge now and have had many good laughs over it so please just understand this is part of the story and has to be told.

While You Were Sleeping

Foreward

As I've been recounting the dating saga that eventually led to my marriage, I'll admit there have been fuzzy details that I've had to fudge because I simply can't remember exactly what happened. This installment is the exception. Everything in this chapter is completely true. There are some events in life that are so traumatic you can never forget them. This is one of those events.

As the end of the semester approached, I saw less and less of my roommates, partly because I was spending so much time with Jeff, but also partly because they were spending so much time with their significant others. Although Jeff and I stayed out late most nights, by no means was I always the last one home. It was not uncommon for me to be home, in bed, and sleeping before one of the other girls would get back from her night out. I never stayed awake worrying about our safety; we lived in "happy valley"-- what could possibly happen?

One night as I was peacefully slumbering in bed, unconcerned and untroubled, I heard the sound of someone fiddling with something on my desk. In my drowsy subconscious, I assumed it was my roommate borrowing my laptop. I half opened my eyes and saw a dark figure standing just inches from where I lay. My first reaction was irritation that the noise was keeping me up. Why couldn't she be quieter? Any why was she using my computer anyway? She had her own sitting on her desk just a few feet away. I was too tired to address the issue, so I ignored the noise and tried to go back to sleep. After a few minutes, the noise stopped and the figure left the room.

I turned over in my bed, annoyed at the disturbance in my sleep. I was going to have to get up soon enough; I didn't want to lose any precious moments of sleep. I had just about dozed off when my roommate sat straight up in bed and called across the room, "Carly! What was that?" Her voice startled me and within seconds I was awake and alert.

"I don't know! I thought it was you!" It only took moments for my brain to put two and two together. If my roommate had been in bed this whole time, then it wasn't she that was messing around with my desk, which meant it was someone else and.... hey! Where is my computer? I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stared at the blank spot on my desk that used to house my laptop. "Where's my laptop?" My voice shook in the panic that was quickly setting in.

"Mine's missing too! Someone stole it!" My roommate was practically shouting now and I could tell she was nervous, too. She jumped out of bed and without thinking twice about what she was doing, ran across the apartment and out our unlocked front door. I followed after her, and we quickly scanned the parking lot for the escape vehicle. The complex and parking lot were silent; there was no sign of our thief. As soon as I realized the culprit and our computers were gone, I also realized how dumb we were. What if the person had been there? What did we plan on doing? Beating him up in our pajamas? I think my roommate has this epiphany at the same time, because we made eye contact and without a word bolted back into our apartment where we slammed and locked the door.

Breathing hard, we stood there in the front room, staring wildly at each other in shocked silence. After a few moments, we each found our voices and began babbling at high speeds in incoherent sentences.

"Oh my gosh! I can't believe that just happened!"
"We have to call the police!"
"I can't believe he was standing RIGHT THERE!"
"Do you think the police will be able to get our laptops back?"
"How did he get in? Was the door unlocked?"
"We could have been hurt!"
"Who was it? Was it someone we know?"
"How did he know to come straight to our room?"
"And why didn't he take the stereo, or the guitar, or all the other things here in the front room?"
"All I remember is he was really tall."
"Maybe it wasn't a burglar. Maybe it was someone playing a practical joke on us."
"Carly, Jeff is pretty tall. You don't think he would...?"

We each paused for a moment to consider it. It was a long shot, for sure, and I highly doubted it was true, but it was easier to believe that Jeff would play a trick on us than to believe a stranger had walked into our apartment, came into our bedroom, and stolen our computers while we were sleeping. Besides, it gave me an excuse to call Jeff and I desperately needed some masculine security right now. I quickly dialed his number, ignoring that fact that it was 4 am and if he hadn't played this very unprobable trick on us, he would be fast asleep.

The phone rang 7 or 8 times before he picked up. As soon as I heard the groggy roughness in his voice, I knew our practical joke theory was out the window.

"Carly?"
"Hi." Wow, I felt so stupid. What do I say? Sorry to wake you up, but I thought you might have been robbing our apartment a few minutes ago and I just wanted to call and check.
"Is something wrong?"
"Uh, well, yes... sorta... um... you weren't over here about 20 minutes ago, were you?"
"[pause] No. Why?"
"Because, well.... um.... someone was in our apartment and stole our computers," I blurted.
"What?"
"It's fine, though, sorry to wake you up. Go back to sleep."
"What do you mean someone stole your computers? From your room?"
"Yeah, while we were sleeping. Well, sort of sleeping. I half woke up and saw someone but by the time I woke all the way up he was gone."
"Wait a second. You thought maybe it was ME?"
"Well, no, not really. I just hoped it was, because it's too scary to think what it really was. I'm really sorry I woke you up. I'll see you later."
"I'm coming over."
"Really, Jeff. We're ok. We're going to call the police and--"
"I'll be there in 5 minutes."
[click]

While I had been talking to Jeff, my roommate had called the police. Within a few minutes, Jeff walked in the door, and shortly after the police arrived. Jeff sat on the couch with a comforting arm around my shoulders as the police explained there was very little they could do to track down our stolen items and we should not expect to get them back. The policeman told us that this was not an uncommon happening in college towns as there are lots of apartments which make easy targets and lots of students with expensive electronic equipment. The thief simply walks around a complex at night, testing doors until he finds one unlocked.

I began to run through the list of unrecoverable things on my laptop: my programming final project, all my photos from the past year, the CD that was in the CD drive. But it wasn't until I thought about what could have happened that I broke down in tears. The thought of a stranger in my bedroom while I slept, totally vulnerable and unprotected, was enough to give me nightmares for weeks. What if I had really woken up, not just half-opened my eyes. What would I have done? What would he have done? Was he armed?

Jeff stifled back yawns as he tried to assure me that everything would be ok. Although he appreciated the trauma of the situation, I could tell he thought I was being a tad bit more emotional than was necessary. But he stayed by me until the policeman left. I learned that day that Jeff was something special. Sure we had fun together and got along great and seemed to enjoy similar things, but he was also patient and kind and trustworthy. He was willing to help me through my troubles, even when he didn't understand what they were. He was sensitive of my needs, and put his own priorities behind mine.

From that day forward I was certain of two things:

1. Jeff would be there for me no matter what.
2. I would never again go to bed without checking the lock at least 6 times.
   

Thanksgiving

Jeff and I decided it was time that our apartments became friends. We planned a Sunday dinner cook off: the boys would make dinner and the girls would bring dessert. Determined to excel in the domestic realm that we, as woman, are supposed to have a natural advantage in, we brought not one, but two desserts: pumpkin roll and cream puffs. Jeff and crew served us pasta and "homemade" bread sticks which he later confessed were made with frozen dough. Though the food was delicious and the company was enjoyable, this would be one of the last Sunday dinners Jeff and I shared with friends.

The Thanksgiving break was fast approaching and I was looking forward to a short trip home. One of my friends was getting married and I was excited to attend her wedding. My brother and I had planned to make the 10-hour drive home together on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. The only thing that could lessen my excitement was that I wouldn't see Jeff for five whole days. The day before we were supposed to leave I had my suitcase on my bed and had just started pulling clothes out of my closet to put in it. My cell phone rang and I jumped up to answer it, assuming it was Jeff.

"Hello?" I answered breathlessly.
"Hi Carly." My brother's voice answered.
"Oh, hey. What's up?"
"Well, I have some bad news."
"What's that?"
"I don't think I can go home for Thanksgiving."
"WHAT?"
"Well, I really need to get some work done and it's a long drive and I just don't think I have time to go."

To my brother, this wasn't a big deal. He was 24, almost done with school, working full-time, and had a serious girlfriend. Making it home for every single holiday just wasn't a priority. But this was only my second year at school, and I wasn't used to being away from my family around the holidays. I could feel the tears threatening to escape from my eyes.

"But... but.. it's not that long of a drive. If we leave early we can be there before dark." I frantically sought for some reason to convince him still to go.

"You can go if you want, but I just don't think I can make it."

I could hear the finality in his tone, so I hung up and quickly dialed my parents' number. "Mom? Matt says he's not coming home for Thanksgiving so I am going to drive alone." My mom kindly reminded me of my tendency to fall asleep behind the wheel and suggested it probably wasn't such a good idea. She tried to book me a flight, but being so last minute the only flights available were outrageously expensive. In defeat, I mumbled my goodbyes into the phone and set it down on my desk. I wondered what it would be like to cook and eat my own Thanksgiving meal. I had never cooked a turkey before. Was it hard? As the reality set in, I laid my head on my pillow and cried. With blurred vision I composed a text message to Jeff letting him know I wasn't going home after all. Within seconds my phone rang.

"Hello? [sniff]"
"You're not going home?"
"No, Matt said he couldn't go and my mom won't let me drive alone and there are no flights left anymore so I'm stuck here and... and... [sniff]"
"Are you ok?"
"I will be, I just need a few minutes to mope about it."
"Well, where are you going for Thanksgiving?"
"Nowhere, I guess. I'll just have to make my own Thanksgiving."
"Wrong. You're coming with me."
"Really? But, well, I don't know. I mean, it's your whole family and I don't want to intrude and--"
"You won't be intruding. My family loves guests. And they all want to meet you anyway."
"Well, ok, if you're sure. Maybe you had better ask your mom first."
"Just trust me. Now, do you want to go see a movie tonight?"
"Um, sure. I guess I don't have to finish packing anymore so I don't have anything on my agenda."
"Great. I'll be by in a half hour."

. . .

Thanksgiving morning Jeff picked me up at 10 am. As we drove to his aunt's house, Jeff gave me the quick run down of everyone who would be there: grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and cousins once removed, not to mention his parents and sister. The longer the list got, the more nervous and tense I became during the 35 minute drive. By the time we pulled into the crowded driveway, I was ready to back right out and drive home. It was an awkward stage to be meeting so many of Jeff's extended family. We hadn't even officially determined that we were exclusively dating. But I pushed my fears aside and put on the best it's-just-another-Thanksgiving-and-there's-nothing-to-worry-about face I could as I followed Jeff up the stairs and into the house. The first person to greet us was Jeff's grandpa who was standing just inside the door. After introductions were had, he told me that today I might as well be family because there are no strangers at the Thanksgiving table. Then I met 3 of Jeff's aunts, and they each in turn pointed to and rattled off the names of everyone in the room who belong to them. My head was spinning with names and faces, and I knew there wasn't a chance I would remember any of them.

After a few minutes of socializing it was time to eat. We took out seats at the longest Thanksgiving table I had ever sat at. It spanned the entire length of the family and dining room, plus a few smaller tables for the kids off to the side. There were handmade place cards at each setting and I swallowed a lump when I saw that there was even one with my name on it. I had to admit, if I couldn't be with my own family for Thanksgiving, this was as close a second as I was probably ever going to find.

We ate... and ate and ate until my eyeballs were about to pop. It seemed the food would never stop coming. Some of the foods were new to me, but most were things that tables across America were also serving that day: Turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, sweet potatoes, green beans, corn, salad, fruit, rolls, jello, stuffed mushrooms, and deviled eggs. After eating, we spread out around the house, some watching movies, others playing games, others just talking. After we'd all had a chance for the food to settle, we broke out the pies. And oh my. I had never seen so many pies. There was pumpkin (of course) and banana cream and coconut cream and chocolate and lemon meringue and pecan and cheesecake and apple and strawberry and others that I can't remember now. It seemed that everyone in the room could have had an entire pie to themselves. And so we ate again until our eyeballs popped, this time trying a little bit of each variety of pie. By the time we had finished, it was all I could do to mutter my thanks as we made our way to the door. Jeff's grandpa made it a point to say goodbye to me personally. He caught my arm just before I got to the door and pulled me into a hug. "Don't be a stranger, ok?" he told me before letting me go. I nodded and smiled, too full and sleepy to say anything.

Jeff opened my door and I slid into the passenger seat so he could drive me home. The rest of the evening we sat in my apartment, alternating between talking and laughing and watching holiday specials on TV. It was comfortable and cozy. I wondered what it would be like to spend every holiday like this. It was a nice thought.