The Heart's Eye

The Read

It is day four. I sit on the back porch of her minka, laptop on my lap. The cherry trees in the garden are blooming. Bees are gyrating around fragile pink petals and birds are cheeping at the top of their tiny lungs. Had it not been for the involving videos I have been watching, I could have called this vacation.

The porch door slides open. She is back from work, dressed in an ironed business skirt and a blazer on top of a white shirt. She is Dr. Klein right now. She is wearing more makeup than the day before. This is probably because my training has progressed to reading emotions in adults.

She maintains an expressionless face, but despite that, and despite her concealing makeup, the pieces of the puzzle are starting to fall together. This is happening naturally, without conscious effort on my end. It is muscle memory, brought on by days of repetitive exercises.

There is a tray with a glass in her hand, a healthy fruit and vegetable smoothie by the looks of it. She is keeping me sober during the day while I am learning, offering alcohol only with dinner. I have gotten used to the healthy diet and have even started to lose my cravings for a nice, strong Scotch.

She leaves the tray next to me. That's when it happens, my first read. It caches me by surprise.

It is a weak read, but it is unmistakable. I read ambivalence. It is as if the sentiment is spelled out for me in words. Ambivalence is not an emotion. It is a state. But it is a state that the mind possesses, and the body expresses, and I am able to recognize it in Dr. Klein's body language.

I feel a sudden rush, the kind that a sportsman might feel when they have just executed a difficult new routine for the first time. It is exhilarating to get a glimpse into another person's feelings.

Dr. Klein nods without looking at me. "Good," she says before turning around and walking away hastily.

I try to decipher what I had just seen. What is she ambivalent about? Training me vs killing me? Keeping it professional vs sleeping with me? I willfully dismiss the latter thought. My attraction to her is likely skewing my judgment, making me see things that are not there. The former is very much a possibility. I do not believe for a second that she would train a nemesis with no strings attached.

It is at dinner when I am able to unravel her ambivalence more. We are outside, in the garden. I have helped her bring out a picnic blanket and she has brought the food on a large tray. In a different world, this would have felt like a date.

But her makeup is thicker than ever. Her face even more expressionless and doll-like. Even with that protection, I see it again, and now I can dig deeper. Her ambivalence consists of two distinct feelings: fear and hope.

The moment I read her, her fear spikes and overtakes her hope. She knows I see beyond her makeup now. It is clear that she is afraid of me. I am an enemy. I am also an unknown. Nothing prevents me from changing my mind and turning in on her. Nothing precludes the possibility that I might possess abilities that are further-reaching than those of her own. Her only protection from me is her quick ability to read me first, stay one step ahead of me, attack me and neutralize me before I do.

The read changes our usual dynamic. Conversation is superficial, forced, focused on the food. I watch her accelerated breathing, the added tension around the edges of her eyes, the inwardness of her averted gaze. I wish I could assure her to not be afraid, but I can't. I have no way of guaranteeing anything. I have accepted this unplanned partnership, but it is not a partnership based on trust. Just as she sees me as an enemy, so do I. She knows that.

I don't know what her hope represents. This is how reading emotions differs from reading thoughts.

She finishes her dinner first and waits silently for me.