A story of young love and difficult choices

by Stacie Bettinger

I didn’t mean to fall in love with the other brother.

I was young, and he was even younger. I was “dating” Sean in the immature, young love, naive type of way. We weren’t actually dating, but we talked as if we were. Or so I thought.

Sean was two years older than me, and it seemed he could get any girl of his choice to fall in love with him. I thought I was different. I was a sophomore in high school. Of course I was no different. I fell in love, or into what I believed was love.

It was not a healthy attempt at a first relationship.

I was very lonely, vulnerable and self-conscious. I was at the point in my life where I thought no boy would ever look at me more than a passing glance, let alone talk to me for anything other than to get the time. When he talked to me, butterflies didn’t just flutter in my stomach, they violently bashed against the sides of my body.

“Hey, what are you up to?”

Butterflies would rip apart my stomach.

“When am I going to get to see you again?”

A simple question for any other person, yet I could barely think, because I would get so excited. He wanted to see me! Life simply could not get better. Or so I thought.

Brotherly love

I didn’t mean to fall in love with his brother.

I grew very close to Sean’s younger brother, Jaron, when he came to high school. Jaron was two years younger than me and we talked all day, every day. If we weren’t together, we were texting or talking on the phone. Jaron was my best friend, my confidante.

I noticed one thing never changed about him, though. Around his wrist sat a thin, black bracelet with one thing stitched into it. It simply read “W.W.J.D.”

What would Stacie do?

I easily recognized the bracelet. I used to wear one similar that was multi-colored. One day after school, I searched my entire house until I found my bracelet so that I could show it to Jaron.

The bracelets brought us together even more. We shared our beliefs and faith with one another. I started to live my life again as I believed Jesus would.

It had been a long time since I had lived my life that way. Jaron helped me find my way again. Not a day passed that I didn’t wear my bracelet. Stains, tears and rips gathered on the bracelet as they did on my heart day after day.

Sean and I grew apart as Jaron and I grew closer. I was torn. I promised Sean I would always love him. I knew in my heart I would always love Jaron more.

“I love you,” Sean would say.

I would get butterflies still, but nothing more.

“I love you,” Jaron would say.

I believed him.

About a year passed and not a day went by that Jaron and I didn’t talk. Our bracelets hugged our wrists as emblems of our love and solidarity. For the first time, I truly felt loved.

Making a choice

My senior year proved to be a dark time as school got harder and I stayed up almost every night convincing a few of my close friends not to kill themselves. Mentally, physically and emotionally I was torn. I started to tear myself away from Jaron. Sean might as well have never been there.

Jaron tried to stick through the rough times with me, but I pushed him further away. I was scared he would see the true me. He would see the depression that dwelled deep within me and the ghosts that crouched in the deepest corners of my mind. He would run away.

We couldn’t really be together anyways because his parents thought he was too young to date. I wanted to respect them. I could not possibly be worthy of his love anyway, I thought.

Not too long after our interactions dropped off, I noticed his bracelet was wearing down and breaking. I bought him a new one, and intended to give it to him for one last act of love and to ask for forgiveness. Instead, I gave it to him and walked away.

I stopped wearing my bracelet not too long after replacing his. He couldn’t possibly love me anymore, I thought. I pushed away the best thing that ever happened to me. I didn’t deserve to wear the bracelet he so strongly believed in and in which I had lost faith.

I regret the way I acted towards Jaron. I was young. I was ignorant. I still hold my bracelet from time to time, remembering the love I felt. The bracelet represented more than just my love for a boy; It held my love for a Savior.

I wonder if I will ever be able to wear the bracelet again.

Will I ever ask myself again, “What would Jesus do?”