Stealing Pulse

Chapter 5

I didn't really know where I was going. But I walked anyways. Sometimes it's okay to get lost if you tell yourself you know where you are going when you really don't. It ended up being a good thing that I walked this way. Because in this direction I met you. I had met you before this, but for some reason you looked different this time. You sat next to me on the bench and asked how I was. And you know what? I didn't feel like lying. 

I told you almost everything. I would have told you all of it, except two hours had gone by and we both had to go home. I went home,  but I couldn't stop thinking about it. I just kept replaying it over and over in my head. "Hey Alex, how are you?" He asked kindly. I looked at him a second and he seemed sincere. I was hesitant at first though. People were tricky, you couldn't always trust them. I used to trust everyone, but in the end it hurt too much. I breathed out, "I'm alright." I knew I looked tired when I said this. I also knew I was really calm too. He looked at me in quick glances, squinting because the sun. It was summer and we were in a park. "Why only alright?" He asked. 

I looked at him. Really looked at him. He was in a red shirt with blonde short hair and blue eyes and braces. I had braces on too. So I asked, "Long story or short story?" His lips pulled into a smile. "How does the long story go?" I was caught a little off guard. Like I said before, I had already known him and he had seemed like the kind of guy who didn't really care. However, he seemed sincere and I had this weird feeling that I should be honest with someone. "I'm sick." I stated. The way I said it made him look right at me. "Oh" his blue eyes were burning, "whats wrong?" I didn't like how that made me feel. Vulnerable. I almost wanted to cry. Whenever I get emotional it takes me awhile to calm down. I didn't say anything for a minute, but he waited for me to speak. 

I couldn't believe I told him. Now he was the only person in the whole world who knew part of the truth about me, besides my family. I wanted to see him again. To talk with him. He was extremely easy to talk to, which was surprising. The two hours had flown by in seconds. I had given so much of myself away with that conversation, and I didn't know anything about him. Usually I am the person who listens. But with him, I'm the one who talks.

Talking is an understatement though. I spilled out my guts I guess you could say. I've never really understood that saying. Guts have nothing to do with talking or feeling. Once, a long time ago, I met a doctor named Dr. Clark. He was very straight forward with me. I think I appreciated this. Most people thought he was rude, but I could tell it was just his personality.

Dr. Clark had grey hair with some black specks and big round glasses that made his washed out brown eyes look huge. I had asked him if he believed in heaven. He scrunched his bushy eyebrows and said no. I asked him another question. This question was very important. I asked him if he loved anyone.

He says to me "our brain entices us to fall in love. We believe we’re choosing a partner. But we may merely be the happy victims of nature’s lovely plan. People who love have high levels of the neurotransmitter dopamine. This chemical stimulates ‘desire and reward’ by triggering an intense rush of pleasure. It has the same effect on the brain as taking cocaine."

I expected this answer, however he didn't answer my question. "Dr. Clark, I understand what you are saying to me, but have you ever experienced that 'chemical reaction' before with someone?" Dr. Clark was a smart man, I could tell he was avoiding the question. But in his attempt at avoiding the question, he had already told me the answer.

Sometimes its better to read peoples reactions than to listen to what they say. I observe a lot. I hope you don't think this is creepy. I watch and note what people react to and what the movement in their face tell me. The twitch of an eyebrow, the biting of a lip—answer what they don't say. It helps me find out more about people.

But then again, we all have stories we'll never tell.