I Believe True Love Would Always Win

Some people never meet their "one" true love in their entire lifetime, but I was lucky enough to meet my true love when I was 13 years old.

I know, most people will say that I couldn't possibly know at such an early age, but it was a different world back then. Very much different than today.

I didn't have an easy childhood, what with growing up with the stereotypical step mother. At 13 years of age I was old enough to 'need' to leave home and became a teenage runaway.

I managed to work a 36 hour week, pumping petrol, and still put myself through school. Collected a wage of $2.00 an hour, $72.00 a week, of which I paid 35 cents in tax.

But I digress as this was to be the story of my true love.

I noticed this Adonis, named Wesley, on my first day of high school. He was a year older than me but I was well aware he'd noticed me too. Many months where spent saying a shy hello, as we would pass each other moving between classes or at recess and lunch.

Finally Wesley plucked up the courage to ask me out on a date. We had the back seat of his brothers' car at the local drive in movies, situated on the top of the hill, while in the front seat was his brother and his girlfriend.

From that night onwards there was no looking back for us. We spent the next eighteen months with each other, at every available opportunity. Before I became a runaway, he would sneak in at night and spend the night in my bedroom, leaving early so he was never discovered. Or I would sneak out and spent the night with him in his 'bedroom', which was actually a caravan in his parents backyard. Luckily these nights were never discovered by either sets of parents.

It was a whole different story once I ran away from home, as a kind elderly gentleman leant me a caravan, free of charge, as long as I fixed it up while living in it. I had the caravan put in the local caravan park and Wesley was free to come and go as he pleased. We no longer had to sneak around. It was a heady feeling having this freedom at such a young age.

I was not quite 14 years of age, when Wesley approached my father and asked for my hand in marriage. He was quick to point out that we weren't planning to get married until we'd both finished school, but we wanted to be committed to each other, hence wanting to get engaged. Dad gave his approval with the added comment, "it'll be you silly buggers that will have to break it off it it doesn't work out". Wesley then presented me with a gorgeous silver ring in the shape of a rose. I wore that ring with pride.

Life couldn't get much better. We were extremely happy. Life wasn't easy but we had each other. We didn't need anything other than that.

Until my father caused me to be fired from my job at the local service station. He informed my boss that he'd received complaints from customers, that I was swearing at them while working. None of this was true but the boss fired me anyway.

My father did this because he and his wife had decided to leave town and as I was still only 15 years old at the time, he wanted to force me to come back home and consequently leave town with them. He gave me an ultimatum. I had one week to find suitable employment or I had to leave town with him.

Well I'm not called stubborn for nothing. I talked myself into a job at the local fish and chip shop. Now it was only for a couple hours on a Sunday, but that was never disclosed to my father. He had to honour his word and he and his wife left town without me.

Unfortunately this dropped my income down to $5.00 per week. No way could I afford to pay caravan park fees on that measly wage. Again I got lucky and a couple in their 20's offered me their back yard, to park the caravan and agreed to charge me $4.00 per week for power, use of the bathroom and one meal a day. I was blessed and Wesley and I could carry on building our future together. What more could a girl want?

Before we knew it, Wesley was coming to the end of Year 10 and as we lived in a small town, the school didn't cater for Year 11 or 12. Wesley's parents organised for him to leave town and board with friends, in a town over 3 hours away. We were devastated but determined to make it work.

We wrote to each other every single day and it was those letters that got us through the next two years. He would also come home every school holidays, so we'd have two glorious weeks together, three times a year and six weeks at Christmas. I can still remember how difficult those years were. I was so young and alone, while missing Wesley terribly.

By the time those two years were up, I had finished Year 10 and was still working at the fish and chip shop, but only for approximately eight hours a week. It's not like I had the option of a further education.

I was no longer living in the caravan as Dad had finally accepted that I was not going to come back home, with my tail between my legs, and allowed me to live in the house he still owned in town. I felt so grown up with a house all to myself and thankful I didn't have to pay rent, as I was earning a total of $10.00 a week. Just me and my cat with enough funds to eat one meal a day each.

Some days the cupboard was extremely bare and my daily meal consisted of vegemite soup (vegemite and water).

Still better to be fully independent and starving, than the alternate of giving up my freedom and leaving Wesley. Never going to happen, I naively believed.

Wesley finished school and returned to town permanently, and we couldn't have been happier about it. He had managed to get a mechanic's apprenticeship at the local council. This meant working full time, but twice a year heading to the nearest major city, for 2 weeks to attend TAFE studies. We could handle that.

It was in this very city that my family had moved when they left town.

All was well until the house I was living in, burnt to the ground and suddenly I was once again homeless. I was really starting to feel like fate was working against me.

But then again, maybe not, maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Wesley and I decided we would officially move in together. By this stage I was almost 17 years of age and Wesley was 18.

We found a caravan to rent and moved it to the caravan park, to start our permanent life together. We were in love, together, with our dreams coming true.

But it was not to be. Wesley's father didn't want us living together and insisted he move back home. Wesley refused at first, but his father threatened to disown him, so he was left with no choice. Home he went.

I couldn't afford the caravan or the park fees, so we had to give the van back to the owner. This left me homeless once again, except this time I couldn't find a solution.

Still I refused to leave town and turn up at my fathers in defeat. Not happening.

The only other option I had was to live in Wesley's car. An orange Datsun 180B. Not really conducive to living in, but I made it work for six months. I spent all day in the car reading books, while the car was parked outside Wesley's work, and I spent all night in the car sleeping, when it was parked out the back of Wesley's parents house. Wesley would drive me up to the football / cricket club pavilion each afternoon, after work so I could take a shower.

I was unable to sneak into Wesley's bedroom (still the caravan in his parents backyard) because we were being very closely watched by his parents.

Wesley finished work one day and informed me he had to leave town for two weeks, for his bi-annual TAFE studies and he told me he didn't want me to go with him, as he was worried I wouldn't come back. I told him, that's too bad as he was driving away in my current 'home', so he had no choice but to take me with him. I won, as there really was no option, unless he left his car behind.

So we travelled together and his employer had booked him a motel room. Oh, I had forgotten what it was like to sleep in a bed, on a real mattress, in fact to be able to stretch out fully, I was in pure heaven. Two weeks of sleeping in this huge room. You couldn't wipe the smile off my face. I truly was in heaven.

They were the two best weeks I'd experienced in quite some time. Two weeks in a bed, sharing it with the man I loved more than myself, I was so very happy.

But like anything, nothing lasts forever and suddenly it was the night before we have to move out of this glorious room, and go back to our status quo. Only I discovered I couldn't do it.

I could not go back to living in a tiny Datsun 180B for another six months, until Wesley was due to return to TAFE. I just could not do it anymore!

I waited until we were ready to walk out the door to head back home, and I sat Wesley down and told him. It tore my heart from my chest, as I sobbed in his arms for what I thought, would be the very last time and asked him to drop me off at my fathers', as he was driving out of town.

Wesley didn't fight me on my decision, he didn't try to talk me out of it. He knew to do so, he was asking me to become homeless once again and I could see the pain in his eyes. I could see his heart breaking but he did as I asked. It almost killed both of us and I've never ever made such a hard and painful decision in my life, as I made that day. Watching the love of my life driving away, leaving me behind, was almost more than I could bear. It broke something inside me that I don't believe has ever been fixed!

So did my father welcome me home, well that's a whole other story? Was that the end of Wesley and I? Again another story. In one way I wish I could say it was the end of us and that would have stopped the future heartbreak and his death at a very young age, but again this is not the time for that story.

I always thought true love would always win, but I now know I had a different lesson to learn on that subject.

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Originally posted on Medium