Page 1 of Choosing a Forever
Prologue
Talmage
15 years old…
Today’s the day I’ve been dreading. I have to do it. It’s the right thing to do. I mean, we both have a whole future in front of us. We can’t exclusively date theentirethree years of high school. We aren’t supposed to exclusively date at this age, anyway—it’s against the church’s rules.
I have a mission to go on, and she’ll probably go on one, too. Maybe by the time we both come home, we’ll be ready for each other. We can have the future we’ve talked about and have a big family. I’ll teach art, and she’ll be a writer.
Maybe she won’t go on a mission, though. Maybe she’ll end up getting married right out of high school or before I can come home. If that’s the case, then I know we aren’t meant to be.
Holy heck, this is going to be hard. She’s going to be so sad.I’msad. Devastated, even if I can’t show it.
Dread weighs on my chest like a lead balloon as I sit next to her on the bus like I always do. She gives me a wide smile, her green eyes shining in the afternoon sun, and her auburn hair glowing like an ember. I’ve always loved hereyes. They remind me of emeralds or the scales of a dragon in one of the fantasy novels I read.
“Hey, Tal! How was your chem test?”
My heart pounds in my ears as I try to process what she’s asking. I don’t want to talk about chemistry when I’m about to break her heart.
Her brows furrow, and she places her hand on my forearm as her nose scrunches the way it always does when she’s confused. The touch sends a spark of electricity through my veins, and my face immediately turns red.
I clear my throat. “We shouldn’t do this anymore.” I want to take the words back as soon as I say them.
“Do… what?” she asks quietly. I think she already knows, but of course, she wants me to confirm it.
“This. Us. What we’re doing. We both need to focus on school. I never should have kissed you or taken it this far because it’s against the rules. I have to prepare to go on my mission, and we should date other people. Maybe when we’re older and we—”
“Stop. Please, don’t.” Her voice wobbles, and her eyes fill with tears, but she blinks them away. “Don’t give me hope of something in the future because you know I’d wait. If you’re ending it, just end it. Don’t give me hope.”
My heart feels like it’s being torn to shreds with a potato peeler as she dabs at the corners of her eyes with her fingertips to catch the few stray tears slipping out.
“Firefly, I’m sorry.” I try to grab her hand, but she pulls away and grips her backpack with both arms, using it like a shield to defend herself.
“Please don’t call me that anymore.”
Ouch.
But I understand.
She’ll need time and space to process this. The problem is, we have to see each other every day at rehearsals. If we make it into Chamber Choir next year, we’ll see each other even more.
It’ll be okay. This is the right thing to do.
But why does it feel so awful?
I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels like they’re standing on the sidelines watching everyone else’s lives move past them.
But dang does it feel like I am.
I have a career I love, a dog I adore, and hobbies I enjoy, but I can’t help feeling like something is missing.
The people around me are getting married and having babies and buying houses while I go to work, take Siren for walks, and sit in a congregation of stuffy people on Sundays.
I used to love going to church. I used to love the community and the sense of belonging. The rules were there as guidelines to follow, not restrictions to keep me from living or keep me in line. I loved it so much, I spent two years knocking door to door and trying to get other people to join, too.
But now it feels like a cage that’s too small, suffocating. The rules feel like walls painted with a realistic looking mural so I don’t have to wonder what’s on the other side. The people I thought were watching out for me,guiding me, now feel like overbearing entities, waiting for me to slip. Gossips waiting until it’s my turn to be on the chopping block.
So I haven’t slipped. At least not to the outside world.
