Meeting people and surprising them is a thrill in itself

For the past few months there has been a learner’s permit sitting at my desk, staring at me – and it’s not mine. It belongs to some sixteen year old girl with a Spanish last name. I had found it when I was running months ago. It lay on the ground helpless and lost. Curiously engaged, I picked it up, looked at it and read the address. I pocketed it and continued my run, making a mental note to drive to her house one day and return it to her. Meeting people for the first time – and first and only time – is always exciting and fun for me because and solely because I don’t know what to expect. This rush of uncertainty at the thought of the experience of meeting someone and seeing their reaction to seeing me pumps me up, strangely. I don’t know if I’m perverted or not, but surprising people, even people I’ve never met (weird, right?) excites me.

Two months pass and I haven’t returned the permit due to school and stuff.

I got a call today by Ate Sherry. She says she’s coming home soon, in around thirty minutes or so. Seeing the permit on my desk in my room, I ask her if she knows how to get to the address of the sixteen year old girl. I’m excited to hear that she does in fact know and that she’s willing to pick me up as soon as she gets home to bring me to the girl’s house.

My hands are clammy and my body begins to engross itself on an adrenaline rush. About fifteen minutes pass by as I sit at my computer. Then, my mouth opens and out comes do-do-do’s in the rhythmic motions of a song with intense drums. I get out of my pajama pants and change into jeans, keeping my same top on – a blue shirt over a white, skinny long sleeve. As I hit the climax of the song in my head, I leave my room to get my jacket and put on my shoes.

Ate Sherry’s here, yes!

I leave the house, locking the door behind me, and run to the car. Oh I’m exhilarated.

Ate Sherry tells me that she knows the place because she and Jeremy run there all the time. All the while I’m hearing the intense drum song in my head, making for myself a soundtrack for my mission of returning the permit and finally meeting the person whose picture I’ve seen on my desk for months.

We’ve reach the place and Ate Sherry pulls the car over. My heart is pounding like hardcore dance music. It’s turned into a techno beat. I get out of the car and jump over the black ice that has made their driveway perilously accessible. It’s not until I reach their front door that I realize the driver’s permit is warm and a little wet from my sweaty palm that was hovering over it. Letting go of the permit, I ring their door bell, which is loud and clear, even from the outside.

I see moving shadows behind the opaque glass and count. There are two of them: one is taller than the other.

The wooden door opens slightly, but the storm door is kept closed. They peer and look at me. I see a mother and daughter – the daughter is the girl on the permit. She’s cut her hair but the eyes are the same, I could tell. They’re both very protective of themselves. I could see it in the way they take their time opening the door to me. Every little move of theirs is checked first with caution. That’s understandable. The mother pushes the daughter away and says something to me from behind the storm door.

“We’re not interested.”

In my head I laugh. But when I see them starting to close the door, I say, “Um . . . uhhh, no, no, wait.” I find my eyes have widened as I begin to rummage hastily through my pocket and take out the permit. I shove it quickly against the storm door right before they close the wooden door entirely.

The mother’s face comes closer to the glass until her nose flattens against it. The daughter from behind widens her eyes and yells in surprise, “Mom, that’s my permit!”

I smile and nod, acknowledging.

“Oh, honey this is yours!” Finally she opens the door, however hardly though, and takes it from my hands. After glancing down at it, her daughter behind her shoulder, the mother looks back up to me.

“Thanks so much.” She forms a smile of appreciation on her face.

“It’s my pleasure.” That’s an understatement.

“How did you—”

Oh that’s right; an explanation is in order! “Um, I was running near Silo park and I found it on the floor,” I say plainly.

They both glance back down, looking at the permit. The mother closes the door without looking up at me. I hear her daughter screaming in delight as I leave the driveway.

As I enter the passenger seat, I tell Ate Sherry everything that has just happened.

The drum song has turned into a slow beat -- that of a sleeping heart.

Ahh, but what a rush it was! It ended a bit abruptly, but still.