Before the Beginning.

Thinking of a surprise gift for Bryce is next to impossible. Everything he wants falls into one of three categories: 

A. Too expensive to buy as a gift without consulting him first.

B. Too technical for me to research/purchase on my own.

C. Both A and B.

For this Valentine's Day, I decided to go the "it's the thought that counts" route, and write him something. Following is the story of how we met, became friends, and decided to be more than friends. This is meant to be a romantic gift-- a public declaration of how my feelings have evolved for the man I have been with for 16 years, married to for 11 1/2 years, and with whom I have three children. It is also a handy reference device, so Bryce can never again makes comments such as: "it was all such a blur.... I vaguely remember that.... Did that really happen?" The narrative is partially transcribed from my journals, and partially just my recollections, and all true. While I hope every reader enjoys this very long story, I really only care that one person loves it.... 

Bryce has said in the past that he knew he was going to marry me the first time he saw me in ninth-grade drama class at Cedar Park Junior High. I am not sure I believe that, but I know that it took me a LOT longer than that to decide that Bryce was "the one." In fact, despite his tremendous effort, I did not even see Bryce as "the one for now" until over three years after we met. In our Sophomore year at Sunset High School, he was my geeky, clever, strangely appealing lab partner in biology, who dissected road kill for extra credit. I am not kidding. I vividly remember one time, arriving in class, setting down my books, and looking up to see Bryce walk out of Mrs.Simpson's office, clad in his typical black jeans, t-shirt, giant grin, and full-arm-length rubber gloves covered in raccoon blood. Fifteen-year-old me could not mentally cope with how intrigued I was by this unique guy, but from that moment on, I knew he was something special.

We spent the rest of the tenth grade dating other people, and got to know each other better during our first musical, "Hello, Dolly!" We were extras in the most literal sense of the word-- there were so many of us, the director did not know what to do with us all. I think he just put us all in the cast so he would have extra help building the set. Bryce taught me how to use an electric drill to help build a ramp, and I met his mother for the first time (she was the costume designer). If I made a list of guys I wanted to go out with during sophomore and the first half of junior year, Bryce always made the list (not that I ever made lists like that or anything). I could not seem to get over the fact that we were so different on the surface, and let's face it, in high school, surface differences are often more important than deep similarities. I was shallow and very immature, and although I thought Bryce was a rare find, I could barely admit that to myself, let alone to the rest of the world.

Everything changed for us during the production of "Oliver!" in the winter of our junior year. He was playing Bill Sykes (the bad guy), and I was, yet again, an extra. We were both single, and we were spending a lot of time together. I remember laying on my bed for hours, talking to Bryce about everything from our relationships, to schoolwork, to our phobias. He encouraged me to think in a way that I did not know I was allowed to think. He made me feel smart, and funny, and pretty (but if anyone asked me, I did not "like" him, and we were just friends, The End). Our phone calls were so lengthy, my parents finally relented and got call-waiting. I could tell, of course, that he felt differently, and at first I was just flattered. We even went to our winter formal dance together. After a few months in this strange purgatory of an almost-more-than-friendship, I started feeling uncomfortable. At the time I thought I was uneasy because my feelings were not the same; in hindsight I now know that I was not mature enough to tolerate Bryce's intense feelings. The well-known theory that girls mature more quickly than boys was not true for us. I was a scared, naive girl who thought I was looking for a boyfriend, but really needed a good, patient friend. Bryce was that friend, until....

After our final "Oliver!" performance, Bryce found me in the hallway, still in full bad-guy costume and make-up, grabbed my shoulders and kissed me. This event could have been like something out of a romantic comedy, where I realize in that moment that he is the one for me and throw my arms around him, while all of our friends applaud that we are together at long-last. Instead, I pushed him away and said "Why did you do that?" Then I walked away, because I already regretted the entire interaction, and did not know what else to do. Thinking about it now, I kind of want to throw up. A couple of friends, who clearly had over-estimated my emotional sophistication, admitted to counseling Bryce about me and our relationship, and encouraging him to kiss me in this grand, public, romantic way. But I was mad. Mad at the friends who had told Bryce to force the issue so suddenly, mad at myself for handling it so poorly, and mad at Bryce for doing it. Mostly, though, I was mad because I thought I had lost one of my best friends.

Bryce and I at our Junior Prom, May 20, 1995. Aren't we fashionable?

In a surprisingly mature and probably stupid move, Bryce called me shortly after The Incident, apologized, and said he still wanted to be friends (remember what I said about needing a patient friend?...). He even took me to our Junior Prom. Our friendship was more reserved and strained, and I knew we needed to talk about it. I was scared, though, because I did not want to lose him, but I was not ready to call him my "boyfriend." So I did the opposite if what I normally do when faced with conflict-- I avoided the issue. I also started avoiding Bryce. Maybe, if I put some distance between us, I could figure out how I really felt about him and us, and make a clear decision. This finally pushed Bryce to his breaking point. We had a phone conversation at the beginning of summer break that went something like this:

Bryce: "So, I take it you do not want to go out with me?"

Ruth: "No."

Bryce: "I don't think we can be friends anymore. I don't want to be around you for a while."

Ruth: "Okay. Bye."

The summer before our Senior year must not have ever happened, because I do not remember it at all. I have no journals from that time and only a few pictures (apparently I went bridge jumping at least once, so that's cool). The romantic in me wants to say that life did not exist without Bryce in it, but I think I am just getting old, and cannot possibly recall everything. Maybe you readers can fill-in some blanks for me? In the meantime, I will jump ahead a few weeks. 

Bryce and I had three classes together plus the same extracurriculars during senior year. The first week or so was awkward, and though we quickly learned to peacefully co-exist, I found the whole "friendly acquaintances" thing exhausting. I knew before we had even turned in our first homework assignment that I had made a mistake, that I should have kissed him back, I should have let him sweep me off my feet. But I was too late; Bryce was already going out with some new girl. I had the misfortune of seeing them kiss in the hallway one day, a sight that caused me to immediately contract a violent illness. I went home and researched GED exams so I would never have to go back to school. After a weekend to recover, though, I dragged myself back to school and distracted myself as best I could.

We did "To Kill a Mockingbird" for our fall play, and Bryce played the lead, while I had a small role. I will never forget the first time I saw Bryce in costume as Atticus Finch. He was so tall and handsome and kind; he looked like a man. I swear, I wanted to run to him and apologize for everything, beg for his forgiveness, and offer to love him forever when he stepped on the stage in that suit. Then I wanted to beg him to kiss me again, and I promise I would not have run away. I knew at that moment that I had to try to mend our relationship, and convince him to give me another chance.

My brilliant plan of attack consisted of talking to all of our mutual friends about my feelings, and following Bryce around so he could not help but think about me as much as possible. I am pretty sure every person at school knew that I wanted Bryce, and we had resumed our almost-nightly phone calls, but I convinced myself that he was still oblivious to my intentions; that he had moved on. My plan appeared to be working, however, when Bryce broke up with what's-her-name. I must have matured somewhat over that prior mysterious summer, because for the first time ever, my excitement outweighed my fear when I thought about going out with a boy.

On December 9, 1995, I was singing with my choir at the Multnomah Athletic Club, and Bryce was at a speech & debate competition in Forest Grove (how is that for a detailed memory?). A good friend of ours, who was perhaps more excited about us getting together than we ourselves were, helped orchestrate a verbal "get together" agreement between Bryce and I. Because this all took place pre-cell phones, making this arrangement while Bryce and I were approximately 29.2 miles away from each other involved many miles of driving. I could barely concentrate on singing, knowing what we were planning that night. Driving back-and-forth (and back-and-forth) between Portland and Forest Grove was a small price to pay for the assistance of a very complimentary go-between (I wonder if he will read this?). To this day, I do not understand why Bryce decided to give me another chance, and I cannot help but think the kind words of my friends helped me out.

I sat in my Dad's Chevy Corsica that night, waiting to hear if Bryce would agree to come to my house the following weekend, feeling more nervous about this decision than I had about my most recent voice competition, or even my college acceptances. I had spent so much time imagining becoming Bryce's girlfriend next weekend, I truly could not comprehend the course of my life if his answer was no. When I saw my loyal, shivering gopher coming back to the car with a smile, the combination of relief and disbelief I felt is what I imagine lottery winners feel. Our first "date" was on for the next weekend, and all I had to do was survive the seven days of waiting.

On December 16, 1995, my parents not only left the house for the evening, they took all of my unoccupied siblings with them, leaving Bryce and I alone. They must have figured that Bryce and I had been friends for so long that as far as they were concerned, if something was going to happen, it would have already, so we must be safe. We decided to use our time alone to... wait for it... play Battleship (this decision is foreshadowing for many of our future activity choices). Bryce was playing the game in a very odd way; he kept hitting one of my ships, then calling a spot far away from where he just hit. I was a little confused at his odd strategy, but I was so excited that he was with me, and we were alone, and he kept smiling at me, and he smelled really good.... Let's just say that I was not paying much attention to what we were doing. I got pretty close to winning, but Bryce seemed oddly impatient, and repeatedly asked me to look at my board. I focused on my board for a moment, realized what he had done, and knew that I was going to get what I wanted that night. Instead of trying to sink my ships, Bryce had caused me to make a heart out of my game pieces (because I did not notice what he was doing, he also had me fill the heart in). He must have thought I was dense, but I did not care at that moment, because he had proven to me, in the sweetest, most understated romantic way, that he wanted to be with me, despite how I had treated him in the past.Later that evening, he asked me, in a very formal way that only he ever spoke, to be his girlfriend. We have never been apart since that night.

Over the many hours it has taken me to write this, I just kept thinking that I cannot believe this is our story. It all seems so far away, almost like I am writing the story that a different couple told me. But I know this is our adventure, because I can recall all of the emotions so easily. Kind of like when you eat a food you really, really, love-- if you think about it later, long after having digested it, you can almost taste it in your mouth again. I feel the remorse after I ran away when Bryce kissed me after "Oliver!"; I feel the sadness and desperation when he was going out with someone else and I wanted him back so badly; I feel the relief and joy when he made that heart for me. So many times in the past couple of weeks, I have wanted to abandon my computer so I could hug Bryce, and thank him for being so patient and wonderful and perfect.

   In Las Vegas, for our 11th wedding anniversary last summer.

Bryce is mature and thoughtful when I am emotional and impetuous. He is lighthearted and funny when I am maudlin. He is a good listener, and is tolerant and compassionate about my myriad neuroses. He is so funny, clever, intelligent, kind and generous. Bryce can befriend anyone, but is never insincere, and confident without being arrogant. He builds me up so I feel strong (I think that might be a song lyric), but always pushes me to improve myself. Bryce actually likes to spend time with me, and I love being with him more than anything. I miss him when he is away, and my heart does a little pitter-pat when I see him for the first time after he has been away, even if it was only for work. He is my very best friend, someone with whom I have a shared history, someone who understands me and accepts me. He was the most incredible boy I knew when I was 16, and has grown into a more amazing man than I ever could have imagined. I pinch myself daily, wondering how I got so lucky that he continues to choose to be with me every day. I am only truly at my best when he is with me. 

 

Comments

[Kate Leen]

Oh, Ruth, I have tears running down my cheeks! Having been there for many of those times, it is so special to read your point of view here. I am blessed to have known you when you were both two crazy kids, and to see the wonderful people you have both grown into, separately and together. A loving partnership like yours is a gift to the whole world! Happy Valentine's Day!

[Amy]

So sweet.