For a book series that many assume to be focused on tweens and teens, all I can say is, thank you Stephanie Meyer — thank you for Edward and Bella and the whole Twilight series. I picked up the books due mainly to my 12-year-old daughter, who’d read them all within the past year. I started them with the vague interest of someone interested in fantasy and stories about mythological creatures, and finished them with a fervor that transported me back 16 years.
Because as corny and SO UNLIKE ME as it sounds, it reminded me that my husband is my Edward.
There was a vague uneasiness I had by the end of the first book, but I didn’t put my finger on it until the painful developments of the second book, when I was able to unbury intensity I hadn’t felt in years. And that’s when it hit me — take away the idea of the vampire and the wolf boy, add on about 5-6 years to Bella’s age, and it was eerily like Ms. Meyer pulled a story right out of my past, from the depths of my memories and the feelings that had long been buried under day-to-day dealings of business, children, and making the mortgage payment in the happily ever after.
In high school, I remember being crazy about the so-and-so of the week/month/year, and having giddy feelings about them. I did fall in love once or twice, and fell in like many more times than that. Unlike Bella, I’d actually had quite my share of dating and guys.
I was 23 and I’d been out on my own for about 5 years when I met him, and I’d had more than my share of wildness and chemistry. When we met, both of us had a lot stacked up against any kind of long-term relationship:
- We’d both been badly disappointed in other relationships, and subsequently had built quite a shell around ourselves;
- Because of tales from my family, I’d sworn I’d never get involved with someone in the military, yet he was in the Navy (Murphy’s Law, right?) — him being in the Navy, he knew what his commitments were and didn’t think he had time for a real relationship;
- Both of us had relationship-challenged parents (that’s PC for DIVORCED — my parents many more times than his), and due to that, we were very negative about the prospect of getting married.
So when we met on that fated Wednesday night (who’d have known it would be so important to take a friend out for a drink for her birthday that one time?), we already had 2.5 strikes on each side as to why we should have no interest in someone long term… forget about finding each other!
However, chemistry won over in the end. The moment I saw him on the other side of the pub as we walked in the door, I told my friends he was mine. Really. How weird is that?
Now I admit, in the beginning, it really was all about that chemistry. It turned out we had physical compatibility that was just…. in Meyer’s words, dazzling. It seemed the more time we spent together, the more time we wanted to spend together. I was never much into PDA… yet we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other, regardless of where we were. I remember my best friend at the time actually walked out of a bar once when we were all there because she was so embarassed by our physical affection. That was totally unlike me. It was like we were addicted to each other… much like the way Edward and Bella are in the books. Historically, I’d considered guys to be various flavors of ice cream — different, but all mostly yummy. A few… what, weeks? months?… after meeting him, it was like he was in gorgeous, vibrant color, and all the other men of the world were in drab shades of gray.
We just forged ahead with abandon without looking to see if we were going anywhere… probably because neither one of us were looking for it to go anywhere to begin with.
And then, four months into our whirlwind of bliss, he almost died in competely bizarre, unavoidable car accident (where his then-roommate did die). It changed me; it tore away at my heart and made me a different person. When I first saw the photo of the remains of the car, I almost threw up… because the only thing senselessly left in tact of the entire car was the driver’s seat, where he had been sitting when they had to use the Jaws of Life to get him out.
That was when the sugar coating and the shell was simply brushed away — to expose us, raw – so the fabric of our beings could meld together.
It was intense. Moreso than I could ever describe.
We moved in together shortly afterwards, even though I’d sworn I wouldn’t live with someone (again… I’d done it before and it was catastrophic) until I got married, because somewhere down underneath it all, I knew I would marry him.
We still had this insane chemistry, but I could never describe the underlying intensity that we had with each other layered underneath it all after the accident, except that I could feel it when reading about Edward and Bella. I remember I sometimes hated it when we started falling asleep at night (or sometimes in the morning), because I always thought I’d miss him too much during our slumber. It still makes me uncomfortable to think about, because I was brought up to be completely in control about everything, as was he. Go figure.
A year and some months later, we eloped, on a mountain in Alaska (during the summer). We’d already been engaged, but it was on a lark — we were so overwhelmed by the intense beauty in Alaska that it just seemed perfect for us to get married there.
And then began a two-year period when he had to finish his duty to the USN by going on his ship, out to sea. I stayed in upstate New York; he was based on his ship in Virginia. There was no e-mail from the ships at the time (this was the mid-90s), so when he was out to sea, I sometimes had to wait several weeks before I started getting letters from him. And they were so achingly, painfully melancholy and somber… but beautiful. I counted the days until we saw each other again, which ranged from a week to a month to several months, and the reunion was always bliss. But the departures… well, Bella’s description of the hole being torn open in her chest really hit home. I’d forgotten about that. It was like every single time I dropped him off at the airport (or vice versa), our place seemed too quiet, lonely, and tearing that hole wide open again. I’d cry — no, make that sob — almost every single time.
Don’t get me wrong — I’m not a cryer. Ask any of my friends that. In fact, it’s a running joke with most of my friends that I’m just hard and cold — because I never cry. I think I cried almost all of my tears out during those two years, because they were the most painful and slow years of my life, while I was trying to get on with my life even though I was waiting for him to be done so we could get to the other side. Eventually, we did, and today it’s nothing but a vague, painful yet blissful memory .
I did have my version of Jacob, too, but that’s another story, for another day. And all I have to say about that is, passion, intensity, and depth win out in the end, and I do believe that you can love different people, in different ways. But yes, that passion and intensity is like a drug…
So once again, thank you, Stephanie Meyer. Because through reading the Twilight books, I was able to tear away the layers and feel it once again.
Because like I said, it took away the day-to-day irritations, misunderstandings, and stressors, and I remembered that my husband is my Edward.
