Expectations

This afternoon, I bailed out my son. No, not from jail. He's 12! He was six chapters behind on the book Hatchet, about a boy who is stranded alone in the wilderness after the pilot flying his plane has a heart attack. The boy crash lands the plane and is left to fend for himself. So while practicing my speed-reading tactics and reading aloud to Jake, I realized something. This was the first book I've read in YEARS that is not a romance. In other words, no guarantee of a happy ending. *GASP*

But what, I wondered, if Brian dies at the end or never gets rescued? What will I do? Would either of those scenarios ruin the book for me? Well, duh. YES! It would totally ruin the book if Brian goes through bears and wolves and porcupines and skunks and starvation and making fire—all for nothing. Picture Castaway without the rescue (ohh, weird, just as I typed the word "rescue" Brian Williams said that word on the news, but I digress...)

Romance has ruined me! I now have expectations. BIG expectations. I need my HEA, which stands for happily ever after for those of you who don't speak romance. I not only need it, I EXPECT IT! When it occurred to me that this book might end badly—because, let's face it, the books they make us read in school aren't usually about making us happy—I wanted to quit reading or do something I NEVER do when reading a romance: flip ahead to the ending to make SURE Brian is rescued before I invest any more time. Well, I have to keep reading because Jake on his own wouldn't have finished that book by the end of the school year let alone before Christmas vacation...

Good news: my skimming indicates a rescue. Phew. Thank goodness. Now I can sleep tonight. Am I alone in this state of great expectation? Please tell me it's not just me...