I’m in a summer non-fiction boot camp with other non-fiction writers. Last night, on a Zoom call, a prompt was suggested by the “camp” leader:

Write about a time you should have said something and didn’t.

I liked that prompt, but we also had the option to work on our current works-in-process instead, which is what I chose to do. (I have far too many instances in my life when I should have said something and didn’t.)

My work-in-process is a memoir I’m calling Unrequited. Let me see if I can give you a one-sentence “elevator pitch” to describe it. (My fellow authors know what a challenge that can be!) But, here goes.

This is a story about four loves, unrequited in one way or another, and how they were like seasons in my life– Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter — all resulted in growth, but in different ways.

Wow–that was hard trying to fit a whole memoir into one sentence. (I realize that was technically 2 sentences, but I cheated with an emdash.) It’s likely bits and pieces of additional detail will trickle out as I write these daily blog posts.

For tonight, I want to share an excerpt of what I wrote last night. I “edited” the writing prompt we were given to fit my memoir:

Write about a time you hesitated to say something, but finally did.

For context, this boy was the “Spring” of my life, my first blossom of love. The setting is my sophomore year of high school. Until I get permission from major characters to use their real names, many names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Unrequited – Spring

One day, as I walked from first period to second period and scanned the halls for Brian, I saw instead a poster on one of the walls. It announced a Sadie Hawkins Dance coming up in two weeks. Below the announcement, it said, “Girls’ Turn to Ask Boys to the Dance!”

“Really?” I thought. Girls are supposed to ask the boys? How cool was that? Then, Fear barged in and shoved Excitement out of the way like an overgrown bully: You’re going to ask Brian to the dance? Someone has probably asked him already. If he was really interested in you, he would have called by now. No way you’re going to have the nerve to ask a boy out, even if it is Brian.

I took a deep breath as I walked into second period. Fear was probably right. No way I’d have the nerve to ask Brian out.

# # #

Excitement and Fear bickered in my brain as one week passed. I found myself wishing Sadie Hawkins would come and go so I wouldn’t have to deal with the conflict any longer.

I’d finally admitted my crush to my best friend, Mary. She knew I liked David. In fact, I’d admitted to her that I actually heard wedding bells when I first met him, though I’d laughed as I said it, to let her know that I, too, thought it was silly.

In our freshman year, Mary had told me about having a crush on a boy named James. We’d giggled countless hours about our interpretations of things he said and did, trying to guess if he might like her, too. One day after school, we scanned the hallway to make sure nobody was around. We brought a bag full of decorations and notes to decorate the outside of his locker for his birthday, though we didn’t want James or anybody else to know who did it. We felt so sneaky, and we laughed so hard we could hardly finish decorating. But at last, our covert task was completed.

The next day, when we gathered for lunch with our other band freak friends on the lawn outside the band room. James was completely puzzled about who might have decorated his locker. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t able to figure out that Mary and I were the guilty culprits from our snorts and snickers as we desperately tried not to break out into full guffaws.

So, it was only natural I’d share my secret crush with Mary, because that’s what best friends do. She was surprised that I’d have a crush on someone who looked as wild-boy as Brian, someone who was a jock and not a band freak. She probably thought I had a lot of nerve, just as I thought, too, though apparently, I didn’t really have a lot of nerve if I was so freaked out at the thought of asking him to Sadie Hawkins.

One afternoon, while sitting at her kitchen table after school, I asked, “Do you think I should ask him?” I sipped my Coke. “I mean, we talked a lot to each other at float committee.” I looked up at the ceiling and rolled my eyes. “On the other hand, he’s never called me or anything.”

“What about David?” she asked.

My eyes must have popped wide open. “David? I mean, I like David, but he’s like an older brother to me. I like Brian. You know, LIKE. It’s different.”

“Then go ahead and ask Brian,” she said, then put a potato chip in her mouth. She made it sound so simple, but she wasn’t the one having to ask.

“But what if he says ‘no.’ Or what if someone else already asked him?” Just the thought made me queasy.

“Would you rather wonder forever?” She ate another chip.

“What do you mean wonder forever?”

“If you don’t ask him, you’ll never know. And then, knowing you, you’ll wonder forever. When you’re 65 years old, you’ll still be wondering what might have happened if you’d only asked Brian to the dance.”

I tried to imagine being 65 and wondering such a thing, though frankly, I couldn’t imagine ever being 65. As I considered the preposterous thought, I noticed the time on the clock above the oven. 4:30. “I better go. I’m supposed to cook dinner tonight.”

“Well, are you going to do it?” Mary asked.

I took a deep breath and shrugged my shoulders. “I might.”

“You don’t have long,” she replied. “Isn’t the dance this Friday?”

______________________________________

I won’t leave you with a cliffhanger. I did finally ask Brian to the dance. What happens next? Now THAT’S the cliffhanger.