(Wherein Our Story Begins to Resemble a Jane Austen Novel)
So there we were, back to “normal.” Christmas break was fun. More hanging out. New Year’s Eve in Boston with a big crew of people. Harrod and Funck performing in Park Street Church was one of the highlights for me!
If you’re a regular reader of this blog, then you know how Valentine’s Day went that next year. You can read about it here. It was one of the greatest days ever! But what that story didn’t include was the fact that the friend that drove down with David that weekend gave me a gift for Valentine’s Day. In front of David. Awkward to say the least, for everyone concerned. (another moment where he thought about slamming his head into a door, I found out later) But still, no dating strings attached anywhere…we’re all good friends…yadda yadda yadda.
March arrived, and with it came Spring Break. Being the exciting party-girl type that I was, I went home, and brought a friend with me. She was a two-time resident of my floors in college, and we were pretty close even though she was a year behind me.
Well, that week was pretty much more of the same. Hanging out with friends, and a lot of time spent with David since he basically lived with us. Anywhere we went, we rode together, because what’s the point of taking two cars when you have the same destination?
By the time we went back to school at the end of the week, my friend could NOT stop talking about David. How funny he was. How smart he was. What a nice Godly man. On and on and on, until I considered leaving her by the side of route 84 in New York state.
At this point I started feeling something in my chest that was unfamiliar in reference to David up until now. Could it be…jealousy? Possessiveness? I didn’t like her talking about him like that, that was certain.
Hmm. What does that mean?
Indulge me for a moment. Do we all know the story of Jane Austen’s Emma? She grew up next door to a wonderful gentleman, Mr. Knightley. For years Emma thought of him as a brother. Through a storyline far too complicated to relate here, her best friend ends up falling for Knightley. When her friend, Harriet, tells Emma this, Emma’s reaction is surprising to even herself:
Emma’s eyes were instantly withdrawn; and she sat silently meditating, in a fixed attitude, for a few minutes. A few minutes were sufficient for making her acquainted with her own heart. A mind like hers, once opening to suspicion, made rapid progress. She touched — she admitted — she acknowledged the whole truth. Why was it so much worse that Harriet should be in love with Mr. Knightley, than with Frank Churchill? Why was the evil so dreadfully increased by Harriet’s having some hope of a return? It darted through her, with the speed of an arrow, that Mr. Knightley must marry no one but herself!
So there it was. I wasn’t altogether sure, and I gave myself some time to work through it, but I couldn’t deny the change in my own heart.
I finished out the semester and went home, having completed my junior year and not knowing what to expect at home. There was still an unfinished business (in my mind, anyway) with the guy who gave me the Valentine’s gift. And would I still feel the same way about David when I was home for the summer and saw him all the time?
To be continued… (and I hope, concluded! next time!)