The Library?

4/12/26

I’d like to say we lived happily ever after, and I guess we sort of did, but I was only ten years old and obviously, that’s not all there was to it. My parents are not perfect (who’s is?), but they are amazing people, and when they set their minds to something, it was going to be accomplished. (I had to get this from somewhere.)
Within ten years, they accomplished what is considered to be the American Dream. They bought their first house. My dad became a supervisor at the company where he worked. My mom got her cosmetology license, and eventually became a salon owner, but I get ahead of myself. 

Immersed in English the way I was in school, I learned the language quickly, and by the time I hit Junior High, I was eligible for advanced classes. I loved to learn, a gift that has stayed with me throughout my life. But I couldn’t stand high school. Probably because so many things were such a mystery to me. 

I blame our naivete, and culture differences, and I now realize that placing a child into clubs, sports and other fun things are the responsibilities of a parent, but we just didn’t know about any of this. So, I trudged through my high school years with these things that I just couldn’t fathom (how the heck does a girl become a cheerleader anyway?) or gain any version of popularity for that matter. My dad insisted that school was for learning, not frivolous things whenever I brought it up. 

I lived the life of a complete geek, relating to movies like Sixteen Candles, Pretty in Pink, and other high school dramas…. I buried my head in my studies. And books. Romance books. 

If there was a beautiful girl in a period dress with her bosom’s heaving and a handsome rogue leaning over her, showing his desire, I HAD to read it. The book got extra points if the girl had dark hair, or her name was some version of my name. I was instantly the heroine of the story, living in another place and time. 

Oh, the adventures I got to experience through those bodice rippers. The castles, the clothes, the way they spoke, the feistiness of the women, the wonderful fantastical settings. And of course, there were the men. They were always handsome. Often some kind of broody. But always smitten and completely devoted by the end of the story. 

In retrospect, I have always had a type, and I blame Tarzan.

I know, right? But yes, Tarzan. Back in Romania, there were only a few shows that streamed to our small town. We had Dallas, because that was popular worldwide at that time. We had The Flintstones and a very short five minute cartoon called Heidi once a week. I’m sure there were a few other shows, but the only one that mattered was Tarzan. The old black and white version.

He was Lord of the Jungle, he connected to and talked with the animals, he fought the bad ones and bad guys, he always rescued and loved Jane, and well… he was half naked swinging around on vines up in the trees. He yells his battle cry that echoes through the canopy of the jungle so you know he’s coming. What’s not to love?

Tall, dark haired, rugged hero type that is completely in love with and devoted to the one woman in his life. The structure was planted into my head, and I was hooked. I still love Tarzan, and must watch every movie that’s produced.

Fast forward to high school and my reading obsessions, and the picture is beginning to make sense. At that time, I had no inkling that someday I’d be engrossed in my own stories as they flowed through me onto the page. I just wanted to escape my geeky reality and be one of the beautiful women in my books. 

And when I discovered the massive Romance section at my local library, I was in trouble. I became voracious, checking out book after book, reading into the quiet late hours and having dalliances with book boyfriends.

It’s not that I didn’t have friends. It’s that we didn’t do much together, and with any time I could jump into a story, escape I did. Even during school hours! I might have been petrified to break school rules, but I learned how to forge my mom’s signature (God bless the days of paper excuse forms), and well, I was ‘sick’ a lot during my senior year. I cut school to go hide in the back corners of the library, reading to my heart’s contentment.

I passed my classes with only one where I received a grade I’m not proud of, and did graduate on time. I finished an ROP program during my last year, and even got a job as I began college courses. But if you ask me what I was learning, it was how to have a romantic adventure. Ysabella Grace