Page 104 of Dr. Damaged Protector

“So, what's your story?” she asked.

“Don't laugh okay?” I asked.

“I have a bubbly personality,” she responded. “I cannot promise you that.”

Here goes:

The only time I had seen anything related to love was through programs I had watched on TV. My family wasn't really a ‘charity begins at home’ kind of place. My parents didn't yell, but it was obvious that they hated each other.

As the oldest, I couldn't understand why they kept making kids, if they couldn't stand themselves. I remember one time when Mother pointed at Gregory and Helen and said, “The only reason the both of you were born was because your father had a very good dick. I say had not has. Stupid son of a bitch.”

Greg was only four years old, and the following month she left. It wasn’t about the maid my father had hired to sleep with. I couldn't count how many times I had walked in on them. My siblings too.

So, I didn't fully understand what love entailed. My first relationship in high school was nothing to write home about. I can't even remember her name.

I had sex in college, but it became a form of stress relief. Everything I saw in the media about love was foreign to me. One time, a past lover cheated on me, but I didn't feel any pain. In fact, I didn't feel bad about it at all.

I didn't get jealous. My heart didn't really skip a beat when my girlfriend flirted with someone else, and I really didn't understand what love was said to be. My siblings seemed to have gotten into relationships properly, except Tabitha, but that is a story for another day.

“I think it's because you look like Dad,” Helena had said. “All his favoritism has robbed you of a heart capable of love. I'm sure if things continue the way they are, you will end up alone.”

If the mission of her words was to hurt me, she accomplished her goal. It didn't make sense. I saw a lot of people close to me fall in love without stress. Then there was me moving from Seline and Mary to Alicia.

At a point, I finally stopped. But I met someone at a bar two years ago. And although I didn't know her, my heart seemed to have no peace. Meeting you again restored that peace.

“When you came back into my life, I felt truly excited,” I continued. “My heart will always pound whenever I see you. If I made you upset or you pushed me away, it would hurt.”

“Then you left to Chicago, and I felt like I could die,” I confessed. “I remember yelling at almost everyone around me. I remember yelling at myself. I also remember yelling at pictures of you.”

“You have pictures of me?” she asked, surprised

“Ignore that,” I replied, brushing it off.

“Kind of hard not to, you creepy stalker,” she teased. “But carry on with your story.”

“These past few days or weeks have been amazing, thanks to you,” I continued, “I had my first date. I also watched my first movie with someone. I almost had a popsicle. But most importantly, I…”

The words stuck in my throat.

“It's okay; you can tell me.” She smiled. “You might get a reward if you say your piece.”

I took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Most importantly, I fell in love for the first time.”

“I can't explain it. It feels like when you aren't here, I lose my mind.” The words started flowing. “I thought you were a wonderful asset to the hospital, which you are. But I realized that you are much more than that.”

“I haven't even touched on what my family has been up to,” I continued. “All I've been thinking about is how to tell you how I feel. I'm sure I probably misheard you, but when I asked you what you thought of ‘this relationship’, I was referring to both of us. When you said no, I was devastated and ended up hurting you in return.”

“I know you have your doubts about me, considering what my family is like. And to be honest, I'm not even sure I know what I'm doing,” I added. “I don't even know if this is love. But what I do know is: I don't want you leaving my side. I would break.”

She remained quiet. I had creeped her out. I looked at her and found her blushing up to her ears.

“You know, you could have said all that rather than asking me to work with you for life?” she pouted.

“I wasn't expecting you to accept.” I admitted. “And besides, that was your idea.”

“Don't put the blame on me,” she sang, parodying the original song.

“Silly little goofball,” I snickered and frowned. “I shouldn't have said anything.”

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