Given that my story did not get chosen (it is obvious to me why not), I thought I'd post it here. It's really a New Year's Eve story, and not in the least uplifting and only moderately funny, but it is what it is (as we are fond of saying), so here goes:

Think of every cliché about love you know, and it would fit: Swept away, head over heels, knocked off my feet. At 19, I knew with certainty that no one had ever felt this way before. Now it was one day until New Year’s Eve, and Edward hadn’t called since our date just before Christmas. I was devastated.

We had met the previous July at a summer job with a magazine distributor. I sorted titles for return to the publisher along with another girl, Elaine, for whom I quickly became a confidant. Over several weeks, she told me all the details of her breakup with her high school sweetheart, who was handsome, brilliant, and a cad. One day, a young man I had never seen before walked into the shop and we made eye contact. My knees buckled. I thought I would die—just die, with all the hyperbole I could muster. Later that afternoon, Elaine asked me if I had seen her former fiancé. I blinked. That guy was her guy? No wonder she was so devastated! Wow.

Soon thereafter, Elaine was let go without explanation. In a matter of days, that guy—her guy—showed up for work as the new truck driver. Edward and I began to hang out together during breaks. He teased me incessantly, but I could only stammer in return, and so he teased me even more. Throughout all our encounters that summer, I was ill at ease. Edward was cool, he was tough, he was smart. He was an angel and he was the devil himself, and I, quite simply, was terrified.

At summer’s end, Edward handed me his college address on a whim and told me to write to him. When I got back to school, I put the address aside. I’d look at it from time to time, but didn’t pick up my pen. I waited weeks before writing, wanting to relish the memory of his request and to postpone the disappointment of his not responding. Eventually, though, I found the courage to write, and all the words that had eluded me during our summer flirtations flowed freely onto the page. Before long, letters were flying back and forth between New York and Chicago, sometimes two or three in a week. With the hope that he was beginning to reciprocate my feelings, I looked forward to Christmas vacation, when we’d return from our respective colleges to the town where we had grown up completely unaware of each other’s existence.

Our first date that December was a movie with coffee afterwards. Though I have no recollection of the movie, the late night stop for coffee remains a vivid memory. At the restaurant, we ran into Elaine and her new beau. Before I knew what was happening, the four of us were at the same table, making absurd small talk. Seated next to me was Elaine, who pushed her food around on her plate, looking at no one, and I—well, I was savoring a generous helping of discomfort with a side order of wishing to be anywhere but there. At one point Elaine left the table, presumably for a powder room visit, but I knew better. Edward was stiffly cordial, but sensing my uneasiness, he behaved especially solicitous towards me, touching my hand from time to time from across the table. I can’t remember anything at all about the new boyfriend; he was merely a catalyst for the scene unfolding before me, invisible but efficacious.

As we left the restaurant, I turned toward Edward with annoyance. “What were you thinking?” I hissed.

For the first time, Edward seemed human. “He asked us to join them, and I didn’t know how to say no,” he replied in a small voice.

That evening created a bond between me and Edward; in a sense, we had both betrayed Elaine, and so we stayed up half the night talking. Despite the oddity of the evening, we now had a relationship.

Or so I thought . . .

Christmas had come and gone, and I heard nothing from him in the bleak days following. The Christmas tree seemed dead and dry, and the tinsel had lost its glitter. By week’s end, I was a wreck. What had I done wrong? Why hadn’t he called? Why wasn’t I good enough? I was a blubbering mess.

Then the telephone rang, and I flew to answer it. Gulping hard, I attempted to regain both my composure and my voice. It was him! He noticed immediately that something was amiss.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Your voice sounds funny.”

“I have a cold,” I lied.

“That’s too bad,” he retorted. “How will you be able to go out with me on New Year’s Eve if you’re sick?”

“I’ll be better by then,” I responded without hesitation, allowing him to believe (or pretend to believe) the fib so that I wouldn’t lose my dignity.

“Well,” he asked, “are you sure?”

“Oh, yes!” I replied fervently, with the certainty of having truth on my side at last.

I got off the phone and danced happily around the house. The day seemed brighter and my step lighter. The Christmas tree came alive again, and the tinsel had regained its sparkle. Then I caught my reflection in a mirror. Rushing to the kitchen in horror, I pulled ice cubes out from the freezer, wrapped them in two kitchen towels, and applied the makeshift ice packs to my swollen face, praying hard for a miracle. I took slow, deep breaths to control my anxiety. Next, I checked my stash of make-up and fretted about what I was going to wear. I didn’t know how I was going to get through the next 24 hours, but I did know that I had a mission to accomplish by the end of it: I had to look perfectly elegant, and I had to convince Edward that I was the girl of his dreams.

By the next day, the ice packs—and my elevated mood—had worked their magic. Cured of the blues-“flu,” I spent hours in my room, styling my hair, carefully applying just the right amount of make-up, and trying on and rejecting a dozen different outfits. When the door bell rang, I held my breath until I heard my mother’s voice. “Marilyn,” she called, “Edward’s here.” As I came down the stairs, I heard him whisper “Oh, you look lovely!” I shyly looked away as he helped me with my coat. Walking out the door, I was struck all at once with the full realization of what was happening: I was going out with the love of my life on the most special night of the year!

[Note: the story is true but the names of the characters other than me have been changed to protect their privacy.]