The other less favorable idea was that everything was fine with my body, which would mean something might be wrong with my mind…
“This looks pretty normal to me,” Dr. Evans confirmed my worries. “Elevated heart rate dependent on activity level and stress level, but nothing that would indicate a medical problem.”
He gave me a long, measuring look.
“How are you really? Besides having what you call ‘heart problems’?”
It was a good question. One I didn't have an immediate answer to, so I shrugged and went back to observing the pens. I wasn't someone who was good at verbalizing how I felt. Never had been. “Okay, I guess. Busy.” It was the most accurate answer I could think of.
“I would like to see you for a checkup in six weeks,” he said. “Try to take things slow. Even if you are physically fine, stress can have a major impact on your psychological well-being.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Dr. Evans.”
Disappointed by the doctor’s verdict and the fact that now I did have to consider that I was going crazy, I slouched down the street and leaned against the wall at the next corner. No physical issues. I wasn't surprised, it just would have made life so much easier if there had been a rational explanation for the weird emotional waves I kept perceiving.
The door of the building which was supporting my weight opened right next to me and a young couple danced down the pavement in light steps, swaying from a mutual feeling of loving and being loved. It hit me like a hammer. The force of that strongest emotion of all. Had it been just a second ago I had doubted if all this was real? If I was going crazy? The couple right there in front of me and the ridiculously strong emotions they were emitting were living proof that there was something wrong with me.
My eyes followed them until they disappeared around the next corner and the second they were out of sight the feeling was gone, too. This was an interesting development. For the first time, it was as if I could pin the emotion onto a person—in this case, two—and it clicked into place. Maybe there was nothing wrong with me, but different.
This new perspective on the whole situation gave me a little hope. It put my rational side back into play when I could turn my strange state into a puzzle that had to be solved. It was definitely not normal to perceive other people’s emotions the way I seemed to be able to do, not even when someone was highly empathic. I had to test the boundaries. What was possible? Could I read anyone, anytime, anywhere? How many people could I read at once? I felt a lot better seeing this as an experiment rather than a potential breakdown.
As I headed down the street, back to my car, several people passed me, following their morning rituals. An elderly lady with a newspaper folded under her arm smiled at me as I stared at her, waiting to perceive something. There wasn’t much, a very neutral expectation was following her around, but it was definitely coming from her and not from the young man with the violent aura, with headphones in his ears and an angry face. He would have been scary without being hit by his upset climate. He seemed to be going over various scenarios of how to dispose of someone he held a grudge for. A young woman turned the corner at a quick pace, stress and worry radiating from her like from a heater. It made my stomach squirm, feeling all their emotions while trying to figure out how I felt about being able to perceive them all. It gave me a headache.
My car was sitting invitingly near the doctor’s office. I jumped in, fleeing from the fact that I seemed to have gained an extra sense overnight. Was that what it was? A sixth sense? For now, I postponed making a decision whether that was normal or not. There was something else bothering me, hijacking my capacity to be rational—the pattern, the girl. That one emotional profile I hadn’t found out there so far. Was it a reason to worry? Even if I did have a sixth sense, was it normal to be able to feel people I had never even met? I guessed there was no definition of normal. No textbook in the college library would help me out with this dilemma the way they had with other phenomena in the human body. This was a novelty.
Leaning my head against the headrest, I closed my eyes and the emotions penetrating my own feelings disappeared. I gasped. So this was how it worked? I simply closed my eyes? Looked away, and they were gone? I enjoyed the silence for a couple of moments before I reopened my eyes, preparing for the noise in my senses, and was hit full-force by the excitement of a kindergarten class passing by on the sidewalk. I almost had to laugh out loud at the childish and innocent happiness and anticipation. When had I last felt like this? Would I ever again? Watching them disappear around the corner and their cloud of cheerful emotions with them, I started the engine and drove into the city, hoping to find the one thing I was truly hoping to gain out of this situation of impossibility—to find the girl who matched the pattern from my vision. The missing piece of my puzzle.
“Heading out again?” my father caught me as I was sneaking down the stairs on a Saturday evening.
With a throbbing head, I turned and stopped to answer his question. Instantly, concern swept over me. It wasn’t my own concern which had been eating me up the past couple of days, it seemed to have its source in my father. “I guess I should use the weekend to relax,” I said and ignored the feeling. It was an easy answer. Everybody would get it. I was a college student, I was going out on Saturdays—finally. My father had been complaining about me being too introverted and not joining society enough for a boy my age, so at least it would please him.
His suspicious eyes scrutinized my expression. “Anywhere specific?”
“Just out, I guess,” I answered truthfully. I had no clue where else I should be looking. I had been to all the clubs and bars, to all the malls and markets. I had even been hanging out on the streets of Aurora, just staring at people as they passed by. At first, it had been girls my age, and when after a while nothing clicked, I had started staring randomly, any age, even guys. Who knew what life held in store for me.
“Enjoy your evening.”
With a nod, I continued out the front door. The second he was out of sight, the additional layer of concern vanished and I was back to my own versions of worrying.
My father was probably the most well-read person in the world and he was highly empathic, but he himself sometimes had issues showing his emotions and concerns. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t, but it was as if he was holding back in order to give people privacy. Sometimes I felt transparent when I was with him. Now more than ever. Since that emotional vision, my heart had suddenly become alive the way he had always described it would. I couldn’t depend on my rational side as much as I used to and the new part was too unexplored to rely on it. I didn’t even know what exactly it was, so I had better hold on to what I knew. I approached the situation systematically, searching every inch of Aurora for her.
It had been a while since I had first felt her—-the mysterious girl. Weeks were flying by and I hadn’t gotten any closer to finding her. That beautiful pattern that had taken me by surprise and turned my world upside down had yet to be matched to a face. As I was driving downtown, a flash of fear overcame me. What if I never found her? My foot hit the brake mechanically and I stared at the street. Maureen was standing there on the sidewalk.
“Adam?” she called as if she wasn’t sure it was me.
I nodded at her through the windshield. A car behind me honked violently, apparently unhappy with my decision of stopping in the middle of the street.
Maureen danced to the passenger door and hopped in without invitation.
“So good to see you,” she sang in her sweetest voice, as if nothing had ever happened between us.
I hadn’t run into her since the breakup, although I had to admit I’d been insanely cautious not to cross her path. Summer break helped with that. Not spending much time on campus diminished the likelihood of running into her. After our breakup I had gotten a couple of texts from her, saying how sorry she was and that we belonged together. There was no real reason for her to be sorry. She hadn’t done anything. It was me who had changed. It’
s not you, it’s me, I thought darkly. How fitting.
“What’s up?” I asked while I rolled the car away from the growing line behind me.
She fluttered her eyelids and smiled widely. Her face, pretty as it was, looked surreal. It looked fake. “I’ve been thinking of you.”
Great.
“How have you been?” Polite friendliness was the best way to go.
“Missing you like crazy,” she winked at me.
The flash of fear returned for a brief second before it was flushed away by a wave of desire. It was the strangest combination. And despite the fact that I was feeling what I was feeling, I was one hundred percent certain, it wasn’t what I was feeling. It didn’t make sense. There was not the slightest bit of desire for that girl in my heart or in my physique. And yet, there it was. I focused on the traffic in front of me and instantly felt the relief of the fading emotions.
“What’s wrong?” Maureen slid her hand onto my knee and squeezed.
With a sigh, I pulled to the side and parked the car near a small coffee shop. “What do you want, Maureen?”
I pulled roughly her hand off my leg and placed it back in her lap.
“Look, Maureen,” I tried one last time. “I am truly sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I know you probably expected something different when we started dating, but I simply can’t continue.”
“Why?” she asked, a little hurt. For the first time since our breakup, she actually let me see her disappointment.
“We are just not right for each other.” There was no better way to phrase it. Someone else was meant for me. Whether they would want me was a different story, but at least I knew what I was aspiring to.
“You really think that, don’t you?” There was no playful, girlish tone in her voice now.
“I do.”
A couple of cars passed us with a swoosh as I waited for a reaction.
“See you around, Adam.” Maureen tossed her black mane over her shoulder, flashed me a cheerleader-smile and hopped out of the car without another word.
As I was still wondering what had just happened, I watched her strut across the parking lot in high heels like a ghost in pretty lace and satin.
3
Graveyard
The day would have been difficult enough without trying to ditch Maureen for the tenth time. After our encounter on the street, she had called me numerous times and had stalked me at the campus library. What about not right for each other didn’t she understand? Hadn’t I made it clear I wasn’t interested anymore? Toby would probably be breaking every last bone in my body if he knew what had happened. He would never in his wildest dreams turn a girl like Maureen down. Thank God he was busy with Karren, who had finally taken notice of him and they were dating. I was happy for him—and her. They did seem like a good couple, at least from what my extra sensors perceived when they were around. As for my own search for the girl, I hadn’t gotten any closer.
Sometimes I wished my grandmother was still alive. With her sudden death last year, I’d lost the one person I had been closest to in my family. Visiting her grave helped me a little bit. It was as if I could actually talk to her. She would have known what to do. Probably, she would have told me never to give up and never to give in. Never give in to Maureen, that should be easy. After having that flash of emotions about that other person whose face I simply couldn’t find, I was less than not interested in any other girl. But, not giving up? How could I hope to find her, if I didn’t even know where to look? Was she in Aurora at all? Would I have to travel around the globe?
“Help me, Granny,” I whispered and leaned against the tree trunk behind me. I was drained. Tired. Couldn’t focus on anything but that perfect pattern. That personality I so desperately needed in my life so I would feel complete.
The gate squeaked and quick footsteps traveled the gravel noisily. I followed the sound until it came to a halt on the other side of the old willow. Nobody ever visited that grave. The old statue was withered and the name on the gravestone unreadable.
Curiosity made me peek at the new arrival from the safety of the branches. At first, all I could see was the stone angel, folding his hands as if grieving over the loss of the love of his life. Then my eyes flickered to the figure watching the angel.
It was a girl, her age was hard to tell from her slender shape. A waterfall of sand-colored hair cascaded down her back, dancing as she shifted her weight back and forth. I leaned against the strong trunk of the willow and stared at the shades of ash-blonde for a while, fascinated by the stranger who was obviously equally fascinated by the stone angel. I forced myself to look more closely, trying to figure out why she kept staring at the statue.
There was something about her that was familiar. If only I could see her face…
The moment I was thinking it, she angled her head to the side just enough so I could make out her profile. It struck me like lightning.
It wasn’t as if I had ever seen her before, but I knew her. I didn’t know her face, but I knew her soul. And the sadness I found there, in the brief second I could make out her features before she turned back to the stone angel, made me want to leave my safe space behind the leaves and reach out to her, pull her into my arms and tell her that it was all going to be fine.
“How can something so beautiful be so sad?” It had slipped out before I could help it.
The girl jumped, obviously as startled as I was about my sudden approach. As she slowly turned, a million questions popped into my head, each of them a different version of how this could possibly be real.
Who are you? I asked in my mind. I was mesmerized, probably staring with my mouth hanging open.
Her eyes were surprised, searching to find my face in the shadow of my hood.
Again, I was glad my features were hidden there. I didn’t want to, I couldn’t, startle this innocent creature with my dumbfounded face. She was the missing piece in my puzzle, the living proof I hadn’t been dreaming these past couple of weeks. If she was real, and I wasn’t dreaming now, and she wasn’t just a beautiful hallucination…
With a deep breath, I gave myself a push and dropped my arms.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” I managed an ordinary tone, pushed away from the tree trunk, and slowly walked toward her. Was I brave enough to face her yet? I was still debating that. But then, I had found her—or she had found me. What was the point in hiding? I wanted to look at her, not the short grass under my sneakers.
“It’s okay, I just didn’t expect to meet anybody.” I stopped, struck again, this time by the melodic voice. It shook a little, as if she was uncomfortable. I didn’t reply right away.
“I didn’t hear you coming,” she added, as if to escape the silence between us. There it was again, that melody. A gentle, low tone, a whisper of mystery behind which my vision was hiding.
“I have been standing here for a while.” I forced the words out of me, wanting to reply to the beautiful stranger. “You only had eyes for the angel.” With another push, I made my head flip up and dared to face her.
There it was again. Behind that face, I saw the vision, the vulnerability, the heavy heart— “But I can understand. The beauty of his appearance is heartbreaking.” I kept speaking, hiding my moment of recognition behind a casual gesture and offered my hand.
“My name is Adam Gallager.”
As I stepped closer, she grabbed my hand and shook it. The moment her skin touched mine, I felt complete. I felt different. I was thinking with my heart and feeling with my brain, the way my father had said I would one day.
“And you are?” I had to know her name. Turning back wasn’t an option. She was here, and everything the vision had told me. Only now there was a face matching the pattern of what I had been frantically searching for the past weeks.
“Claire…” She shook her head in a subconscious gesture, following a thought I couldn’t read. “Claire Gabriel.”
Claire. The Pure. The name fit perfectly.
&
nbsp; “It’s an honor to meet you, Claire Gabriel.” I bowed slightly, dumbstruck by the impossibility of having found the last piece of the puzzle, then looked up to study her face.
A pair of grayish-blue eyes was staring back at me. They were examining my own eyes with an intensity I hadn’t known a human being was capable of. There were signs of strain on her forehead and she seemed to have problems focusing. Or was it the heat of late summer in Illinois?
“How come you are standing in the middle of the graveyard on a beautiful day like this?” I tried to keep a casual tone, but I needed to know why here, why today.
“Long story.” She glanced at her feet for a second, hiding her eyes from me.
What are you thinking? I wanted to beg her to tell me, to spare me no details. I had been knowing so much about her for a while, and now I needed to know everything else. Everything that made her who she was, every little happiness, every trace of pain or suffering.
“I have time to listen.” Again my voice was casual. Just a stranger with too much time on his hands, ready to hear what she had to share.
She seemed to consider spilling her life to me but then paddled back and snapped at me, “What are you doing here, anyway?”
I was surprised at her harsh tone. It made clear she had little control over her emotions. Had I known that before? Maybe I could have deduced it from the pattern I had seen in my vision, how much suffering there had been, how much loneliness, how hard it would be for her to trust anyone. Especially a stranger who surprises her in a graveyard, out of nowhere.
“I mean—You said, you had been there for a while before I came here. I didn’t see you.”
That had sounded much calmer. The wind was playing with her hair, tossing the blonde waterfall over her shoulders. Claire was obviously debating whether or not to trust me, by the way she was scrutinizing my face. It seemed to be straining her. She had started sweating and after a long—not remotely long enough for me—moment, her gaze broke away and she hid it under her hand, wiping her forehead.
Spark Page 3
