When he called me I was caught off guard, but kept a brave face as I answered the phone. He said that he just finished class and was going to grab something to eat. He wanted to talk to me and wondered if I wouldn't mind going with him. I said sure. I didn't know what he wanted but I knew what I wanted. I wanted to prove to him that he meant nothing to me.
Before he came to pick me up my roommate said "You know he's probably going to ask you to get back together with him." I was fired up when I responded, "Well, I'm definitely going to say no." I meant it. I wanted the satisfaction of rejecting him like he rejected me.
He came to my door, we left, he ate dinner (I wasn't hungry). The small talk and awkward conversations were extremely underwhelming. There were no pleas of yearning and wanting me back. But, I knew he wanted something. We made the drive back to my apartment and the minute that he put the car in park he started talking.
"I want to ask you out for Saturday night."
I said "I don't think so."
"What will it take for you to say yes?"
"Nothing. You don't understand how bad you hurt me, how much I cried, how you sat there expressionless telling me in the middle of something wonderful that you wanted it to end. You left other people to pick up the pieces while you distanced yourself only to appear randomly and mess with my emotions. I can't do it again."
The conversation was long, really really long. I stood my ground but in the middle of my stoic rejection I started to see that he was still in love with me. He told me how he dated other girls over the summer and as hard as he tried, nothing ever worked out. He said he thought about me when he was on other dates. He thought "This would be more fun if Kara was here." He thought about how easy things were between us. He told me in August at his friends wedding he realized that he wanted me back. He told his friend and admitted to him that he didn't think he could because he hurt me pretty bad. There was no way I would take him back. In September (the beginning of the school year) he tried. He came to clean the air and feel things out. When I stonewalled him he decided not to ask. He wrote me the text "It was great seeing you today." and later that evening when I asked "What? Do you want to get back together or something?" he scoffed and said No, even though he really did want to get back together. This dinner out was his third try.
I had to give it to him, he was persistent. But I wasn't completely sold. The talking went on and on. My hard protective shell was starting to break. It started to feel like we were back in the groove of how things used to be. I loved him, like crazy, but I didn't want to walk out on that limb again and have it break, again. It was too hard to pick up the pieces. But, with his persistence I saw that he was stepping out on a limb for me. Every fiber of my being wanted him back in my life, but I was scared, I figured I would give him this one chance. I agreed to his initial offer.
Our date was a double date with some of Aaron's friend from the U. I sat on my hands almost the entire night for fear that I would try to hold his. I was still trying to protect myself. Aaron was different than he was the first time we dated. The New Missionary-ness had worn off and he was more similar to the Aaron I remembered from high school. He was flirting on a level I had never seen before. Finding ways to touch my elbow or my knee here and there. He made up for the awkwardness I was giving off in my desperate attempt to protect myself from falling for him again.
But the feelings were all too familiar, all too comfortable. My will was breaking down. By the time we settled in to watch the movie (Newsies to be exact, booyah), my defenses were completely gone. His arm rested comfortably on the armrest between our seats. I slowly and cautiously moved my hand over until I felt his fingers wrap around mine. We were back. Back to where we were five months ago. After his friends left we talked and we kissed. The kisses weren't second long pecks anymore and I remember thinking, "I like the way he kisses."
The following days were filled with conversations of "How do I know you won't break up with me?" and "If we're getting back together then where is this headed." At the time we decided not to put a label on it, but by the end of the week we started using phrases like "generally speaking." "If we got married, generally speaking, then..." It only took two weeks for us to decide that we were definitely going to get married. We kept it to ourselves for a little bit and then decided to tell our parents and a few close friends. The responses were mixed, some congratulations and some "are you kidding me?!" I was still 19 and Aaron was 21. We had (at that time) only dated a combination of five weeks. Although on paper the whole situation seemed to be a big red flag, we knew it was definitely the right thing for us.
Over Thanksgiving break Aaron flew out so we could talk things through with my parents. He was so nervous on the flight that he threw up all over the airplane bathroom.
After that, things got a little tough. In my ever growing need to please people I tried desperately to make everyone happy about the situation and get everyone on board. Some people only saw Aaron as the man that broke my heart and walked away, they didn't see him as the piece that put my heart back together. And people only saw me as a little girl incapable of making such a big decision. I knew there was nothing that would make me back down from my decision, but I cried a lot and I stressed out a lot. The stress started to get to me and make me physically ill.
I started to get a really bad sore throat and as the days progressed, it flared out of control. It got to the point where I would rather drool out of my mouth than swallow because it felt like I was swallowing broken glass. I went to class on December 8th, 2005 in an attempt to push through. By the end of the class I was in excruciating pain. I cried all the way to the Health Center. The doctor looked in my throat and said "Hmm, I've never seen this before." I said "What do you mean?" he said "You have canker sores all over your tonsils." Stress can do crazy things apparently. He gave me some pain medication and a throat mixture to swish around and he sent me home.
Aaron and I were supposed to go see a play in Salt Lake with some friends. I told him I couldn't go, but I didn't completely want to cancel our plans. He said that he would invite them to his house to watch a movie and that he would pick me up at 7:00pm. The last thing he said was really odd, "Be sure to look nice."
I took my pain medication and crashed for the rest of the day. I woke up at 6:00pm and showered. I called for my roommates to help me because I was too weak to finish getting ready. I love those girls. They swept in, did my hair, polished me off, and I was ready to go before I knew it. 7:00pm came and went. Aaron was never late. Ever. It must be a fluke. 7:05pm, 7:10pm, something must be wrong.
At 7:15pm my roommate walked in with a rose and a card that had a #1 on it. My brother was waiting outside to drive me to my destination.
The clue on that card led me to the movie theater where we watched The Ring with my family on our first date. Erika handed me another rose and another card.
It took me to Taco Bell, where we went to eat after the movie. Ryan gave me a rose and another card.
Which took me to the Cannon Center, where we first saw each other after Aaron's mission. Carter gave me another card.
Which led me to my sister's old house, where we broke up. Chelsea and Leandra gave me another card.
I went to the Provo Temple, which (even though it would be the D.C. temple) is where we would get married. Bridger handed me the final card.
Which led me to this set up. Roses, candles, and my ring sitting patiently in its box. I started semi-hyperventalating when I saw it. I couldn't see Aaron so I went looking for him. He walked in wearing a suit and tie, got down on one knee and I started to cry. He said some beautiful things and then asked "Kara, will you marry me." I of course, said yes.
He grabbed my right hand and went to put the ring on my finger. He stopped and looked up "You're already wearing a ring." To which I responded, "You have the wrong hand." He then proceeded to place the ring on my left hand. Everything about that night was perfect. He remembered every special location in our story (in chronological order, by the way) that led us to that point, at each place he had people that I loved dearly. But in the end it was just me and him standing there ready to begin a story of just us together forever. No sore throat or amount of stress could stop me on a night like that.
Five months after our engagement, a little over four years after that fateful day at the Oakton Stake dance, I married that boy who helped write our story. I'm grateful for every moment that led us to that day, every butterfly, every conversation, every tear, every fight, and even every canker sore because it led me to know that Aaron was everything I ever wanted and he was worth fighting for. Sometimes, it really did feel like a fight. But, we're together forever, walking hand in hand through life and writing, yet, another story.
And that, my friends, is The Story of Us.
He sent it to his parents in an email (they were still living in Hong Kong). His parents were super nice but warned Aaron that he shouldn't marry the first girl he dated after his mission.
Aaron contacted me via email to see how I was doing. To not seem to eager, I waited two days to respond. He responded to my email 3 weeks later. I thought, screw him. (I found out later that the 3 week wait was intentional because I waited, the stinker)
As much as I'd like to say that the stars aligned and we knew we were destined, that didn't actually happen. I was only 15 so dating was off the table, and I was kind of "with" someone at the time. An I-like-you-you-like-me-so-we're-together-but-not-dating kind of thing. 
Aaron called me and asked if we could go out while I was in Provo. I said sure. I was really excited that he was going to pick me up in his camaro. When he showed up he had this tiny blue Chevy Cavalier, I was bummed.
Aaron wrote me a letter while he was in the MTC, but I don't think I ever wrote him back. My freshmen year of college, my roommate Jillian and I went through this phase of writing to missionaries and day-dreaming about how we were going to marry them. She and I always had crazy ideas
