Duchenne

This personal essay was submitted as part of Catalyst’s 2020 Writing Contest. To view more submissions from the Writing Contest, please visit utcatalyst.org/writing-contest.

Photo Credit: Kelly Sikkema

Courtesy of Unsplash

In the 19th century, French anatomist Guillaume Duchenne used electrical stimulation of the muscles to study the anatomy of the living body, especially emotional expressions of the face. There are many different smiles that can be elicited by many different muscles. However, there is one that is special, unique, and worthy of the attention and time you’re going to spend reading this elaborate story about smiles and love.

This smile is termed the “Duchenne smile” as an ode to this physician who thought that only the sweet emotions of the soul could force a genuine smile. Duchenne claimed that this pure smile of enjoyment had the power to unmask a false friend.

You see, there are two muscles that must work together to produce a bona fide smile: the zygomaticus major muscle that bends the mouth upwards and the orbicularis oculi by the side of the eyes that is not as easily excitable. The former can activate a smile, nothing more and nothing less. Excitement of the latter, however, is necessary to ignite the cordial, captivating, and contagious smile that tells the tale of a hearty, soulful experience. The brain’s left temporal region, known for its association with positive affect, sends a lucrative message through the seventh cranial nerve that is large enough to be seen by the naked eye, where it carries it to the revered orbicularis oculi, and a smile worthy of admiration is projected onto the face. It is thought that a smile that does not use the orbicularis oculi muscle is not one of true enjoyment. And thus, we come to the natural conclusion that one smile denotes truth and kindness, whereas the other is just a projection of ambiguity.

I had no trouble eliciting this smile and was naturally, albeit naively, drawn to others who could also exude the same positive energy. It is worth noting that until recently, it was thought that a Duchenne smile could not be faked, but studies now show that this has been proven false. Ignoring this fact (because I have not yet come to terms with its far-reaching consequences), the Duchenne smile is believed to offer a clear window (like the eye) into a person’s core character. And that is all I will dwell on before I tell the story of a smile, a smile belonging to someone else that made me inquire into the psychology of the smile.

It was a boy (of course). I had heard so much about him before I met him. But I didn’t have high expectations. There had been many disappointments in the boy department. My best friends in the new school introduced me to him, and many others talked about this guy who was evidently a resident heartbreaker. Whereas this made me genuinely curious to meet the man, I reluctantly admit, he did not stir in me a misdirected passion that was usual among young girls longing for purpose. Not because I was enlightened enough to be rid of its chains, but because I had already learned that wishful thinking was but an overly romanticized phrase. 

These were the circumstances under which I met him. He had eluded my sight by coincidence which had added to the unconscionable excitement that culminated in a loud, uncontained gasp at his first sighting. The girls pointed him out and, contrary to my established containment of expectations, I was overruled by giddiness. I smiled wide. A Duchenne Smile. A smile of pure enjoyment. Picture: Donkey smiling at Shrek. Picture: parents being told by a newly wedded couple that they’re expecting.

I smiled big. He didn’t see me yet. But I saw him. Holding the line against an unruly, hurried class of students rushing to get home, he was worthy of every bit of the nuanced and secretive praise bestowed on him. Frankly, it was at this moment that I questioned why nobody had mentioned how good-looking he was or, here’s the real kicker, what a great smile he had. Now, nobody knew my passion for a well-endowed smile, but his smile was noteworthy to mention to just anybody on the street. Looking back on it, the beauty attributed to those who are not aware of its presence or consequence probably culminated in that original contagious smile.

My heart fluttered ever so slightly and then went quiet, just like me, as I walked past him. Fearful of the consequences of meeting his eye and unable to stop staring, we caught each other’s eyes for a second, after which my eyes quickly dashed to the opposite direction. I dared to glance back at him, in hopes that he hadn’t noticed the indiscreet glance, but life would be different if I hadn’t dared in that second. For when I caught his eye again, he was looking at me, smirking with a knowing glint shining in his eye. I laughed out loud, unable to contain my surprise at being caught in the act, and he laughed too. We passed each other for the first time, like night and day, unaware of forthcoming everlasting entanglement with each other. 

We started dating soon. There was no plan, so I can’t say that it didn’t go according to plan. It was a whirlwind, and I enjoyed it. The little laughs that bring so much joy every time you play your conversations over and over in your head, the increased heart rate when you’re near each other, the hairs on your body standing erect at every touch and the smile you don’t realize is on your face every time you talk. Duchenne, of course. You know how it goes. But presently, I realize that loving and letting myself be loved was hard work. I had to be vulnerable, kind, and brave. I had to realize that neither I nor him, nor anyone else was perfect; we make mistakes and bad decisions, and we hurt others. But at the end of the day, people go back to their person because they like them despite all of the obstacles that stand in their way. Not because of it—that’s a lie. Give anyone a choice to not have to deal with the upsetting consequences of having a bad day, making a wrong decision, failing at something, and they would choose a perfect person. So no, people do not love because of your flaws, they love despite it.

But I was neither of those things and shied away from it. I knew I was going to fall in love, and it was much easier not to fall in love and then have your heart broken. So, we grew apart and soon broke up. 

Kids—I call you a kid because you are one if you need this advice—don’t run away from love. Running away from love is running away from happiness, but, more importantly, it is running away from a challenge. Only the brave and the kind love. The rest miss out. And what is the point of our brief stint on Earth as a human if we’re missing out? So, go be brave. Go love.

Now back to the story after that brief and probably pointless interlude.

Since we broke up before either of us got in too deep, it was an easy transition back to single life. In fact, I hardly felt the sting of loss. I missed seeing him, but that was it. He was funny, kind, and smart, so it was very natural that I missed his presence and effect on me, or so I told myself. Life continued as it always has done. Soon, spring drifted away, and summer arrived.  

It was a clear hot day. I was parading around with my girlfriends out on the patio of the school. Everyone was wearing white uniforms. We were headed nowhere, like a herd of seagulls, bored without a good thunderstorm, wandering aimlessly. During our wandering, one of my friends turned around to ask me if I knew that he had started dating Daisy. I repeated the question for I was paralyzed and didn’t process it the first time. 

I didn’t move, couldn’t move. You would have thought I was struck by a bolt of lightning if you saw me then. She pointed to him and her, behind me. It was exactly like in the movies. 

There was a lag in the universe. 

Everything slowed down. 

I saw him and her. 

Everything else faded but him and her. 

The sun glared as a natural limelight on them. 

She was looking up at him. 

He was smiling at her. 

My Duchenne smile. 

I’m sure it was that which made my heart beat faster, like it had many moons ago when he had first smiled at me. If the heart is where you feel love, my heart desperately wanted to tell me it was hurt because it beat as fast as it could to make me feel pain. The sun was shining on them, but it was I who felt the hot, cruel heat as it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My face flushed red from the roaring of my insides. My throat felt dry like the desert I stood in. I had looked directly at the sun many times before to see if I could get my eyes to tear up. But I didn’t need to look at the sun that day.

It was just a second.

I looked at them only for a second.

I felt pain only for a second.

I wanted to cry only for a second.

And then everything turned to real time, the sun returned to its normal glare, people started talking and walking again, but he continued to smile at her and not me. I turned back to my friend, as my heart whispered, “I wasn’t enough,” my mouth completed the thought “well why not her?” I smiled away the tears using just my zygomaticus major, we hooked hands together and walked on away.

Life continued, like it always does. You can whine and waddle, but after a while, you just move on. What else is there to do? But it is interesting to me that somewhere along the way we became friends. And frankly, I realized that it was all I wanted. I don’t know why he wanted to be friends. Even now, after being best friends with him for several years now, I don’t have an answer. He found a way into my heart even though I had denied it to him before. He knew how to make me laugh (butchering French accents and cheesy jokes, by the way). He knew how to cheer me up after soul-crushing exams. And, most of all, he let me be myself, no pretenses or airs. He was my secret haven, an escape from the pressures of a model daughter, friend and student. We spend so much of our time together; I would go seeking him when he didn’t show up at the end of classes. We would hang out after school and get in trouble with teachers for loitering around. We went on long walks alone talking about nothing and laughing at everything. I did not realize then that I was loving him and letting him love me. I wonder if I had realized it, whether I would have pushed him away once again. Life had found its new rhythm again.

It doesn’t rain in the desert much. If we were lucky, it rained twice in one year. The rain very much represented longing and hope for us. The chances of it raining during school hours was even lower, as you can imagine. Playing in the rain with friends was sadly an unobtainable luxury for kids who lived in dry, arid climates. However, at the end of this tumultuous year, on a cold Monday, with darkened skies and heavy air, the forecast predicted rain. I remember the palpable excitement as it ran through the soul of the school that day. The hours went by and the sky retained its cloudy, apprehensive demeanor but refused to yield to the demands of longing children. Lunch came around and everyone clamored outside, using this last opportunity to wait for the rain. We stood huddled in groups, looking at the teasing sky and challenging it to open its floodgates and let it devour us. But it did not relent. I guess it had a mind of its own.

The bell rang, mimicking the loud outcry of dashing rain we had hoped to hear. As we were making the trip back inside, with sunken spirits and crushed hopes, a faint sound of pattering was heard. It had lost its futile battle and finally let its defenses down. It started drizzling. Not a soul remained inside. The rain wasn’t heavy, but the sounds of a couple thousand students inside the walled gates of the school alluded to a giant pouring. I jumped in with my friends. Someone started the music. The sky must have liked it because it joined in on the party. It rained like cats and dogs. I saw Ray standing but a few feet away with his hands in his pocket, a happy smile. Our eyes met, we took a couple of steps toward each other, he smiled, pulled me in and forced me to dance. 

Time slowed down again.

It was just him and me this time. 

My heart was beating fast again. 

Just like on that hot summer day. 

But this time it was because it couldn’t take the dancing and screaming anymore. 

We weren’t wearing white today.

It was a cold day and the rain drenched us. 

I was gulping down water by the gallon. 

Today he was smiling at me. 

Today we were best friends, and it turned out I was good enough for the job. In that good old Duchenne smile that had smitten me the first time I laid eyes on him, I saw in him a true friend, just like Duchenne pledged. 

We smiled at each other, silently promised to break hearts later and continued dancing.