At our monthly Bella staff meeting, our amazing editor handed us a list of all the 2025 issue themes. I’ve been known to veer off-topic a few times, so, it being a new year and all, I decided to behave and stick to the theme. When I saw “Unwritten Stories” listed as an idea, I thought oh, I’ve got a few of those, can I take that one?
Sometimes people ask me if I’m going to write a book. It sounds like a great idea, but life keeps getting in the way. Life is really fun right now; why would I want to sit still long enough to write a book? But I truly do love to write, so I sit still long enough to write something random every day. Maybe someday I’ll find a way to string those pages together and call it a book. For now, they are just scenes. Or are they scenarios?
Although almost all my book club books have been about murder lately, my unwritten book would be about love. (Mostly because I don’t know much about murder.) I’d write about young, innocent, awkward, star-crossed lovers who keep being foolish and mess up everything between them. They choose different paths. They think love grows on trees. Do they end up together? Do they end up happy or miserable? Heck, I don’t know — I’d have to write the book to find out.
Maybe it could be a young adult novel called “Three Simple Words,” but of course it would be very complicated and way more than three words. Maybe this could be a flashback scene:
I’m old, but once upon a time I was young — a teenager with no confidence, always second-guessing myself. And I fell for a boy. I didn’t know much about love. I read about it in books and saw it in movies, but I didn’t know how it felt. My feelings were strong for this boy, so I knew it was more than just a crush. When we’d say goodbye, I’d ache until I saw him again. I wasn’t sure if he was the right boy for me; our lives seemed to be going down different paths. But when our paths crossed, lightning struck.
After a while, I was pretty sure I was in love with him. But I wasn’t sure he felt the same about me. I wanted to say “I love you,” but I was afraid. What if it was too much, too soon? What if those three simple words scared him away? (What if he replied, “It’ll pass,” like the hot priest in “Fleabag”? Did you know that humans are the only animals that fear rejection more than death?)
So I didn’t say it. For a very long time. I psyched myself up to say it a few times, but then talked myself out of it. Why is it so hard to look someone in the eye and say three simple words?
One day, he was leaving, and we were saying goodbye. We hugged, said goodbye, turned to go … but kept repeating that sequence. (It was always so hard to say goodbye to him. I never knew when I’d see him again.) After a few times, he impatiently said he really had to go, or he’d be late. I looked down and stammered slowly, “Well … I’ll … let … you …” and before I could say go, he quickly responded, “I love you too, but I have to go.” I was in shock, but I faked normalcy like it was no big deal. The ice was broken!
I walked away feeling like I was walking on clouds. Like I was ten feet tall. Like I had mountains in the palm of my hand. The sun was brighter, the sky was bluer, my heart swelled so much I think it doubled in size. How lucky we are as humans to feel that teenage feeling!
Now that I’m old, I’m not as stingy with those three words. I say them to my kids every time we talk. I say them to my cats, my siblings, my friends. Heck, sometimes I say those words to my Dove chocolate. I throw those three words out like moon pies at Mardi Gras. But who can forget the first time you felt that euphoric terror? That magical moment?
Ugggg, gross. It’s way too Twilight-y and Notebook-ish. In the trash it goes. I’ll just stick to travel stories.
