“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked.
“No, thank you, but I would like to begin. I was hoping to visit with Charlie more. Something was bothering him when I saw him earlier, and I want to see if I can help.”
Dr. Skinner nodded slowly. “The last several years have been rough for Charlie. I just hope one day he can let the past go so he can live life again.”
I swallowed hard. “What happened to him?”
“That’s his story to tell, which I’m sure he’ll share with you when he’s ready.” Dr. Skinner opened a drawer and removed a gray folder. “I’ve looked over your file, and I must say, you’ve led a very difficult life.”
My lips tightened. “It’s in the past. Can we talk about something else?”
He observed me carefully, then said, “I understand you are different from most witches in the sense that it is your emotions that give you the ability to use magic, correct?”
“I wouldn’t say all of my emotions. Mainly it’s just pride, hate, anger, and fear.”
“Why just those?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s just what my parents taught me.”
He leaned forward, elbows on top of his desk. “Have you ever felt love?”
Boaz. My insides twisted, and I tightened my fists. “I don’t think so, not real love anyway.”
“Have you ever felt happy?”
“I thought I was happy once, but it wasn’t true happiness like what I read about in Charlie’s letters.”
“How about peace?”
I thought for a moment. “I don’t think so. I’ve felt indifferent, but I don’t think that’s the same thing.”
“It’s not. Have you ever felt compassion?”
The vampire with the sorrow-filled eyes immediately came to mind, and I nodded. “That’s what originally kept me from wanting to be like my parents, and it’s what ultimately saved me when I went to far.”
“That’s good. We’ll build on that later. How about beauty? Have you ever felt beauty before?”
I shrugged. “I’ve seen beautiful things.”
“But have you felt it?”
“Is that possible?”
“For you, yes, but for most normal humans, they can only appreciate and love beauty.” He reached over to the vase and withdrew a long stemmed rose. “Look at this rose and tell me what you see.”
I eyed it carefully. It was a red rose in full bloom with a sweet smelling aroma. “It’s beautiful, but it looks like every other rose I’ve ever seen.”
“Look closer.”
I focused harder, this time noticing the many lines that ran in an intricate pattern across its velvet skin.
“Keep looking,” I heard his voice say in an eager tone.
I took a deep breath, inhaling its fragrance. The air swirled around the rose in a circular pattern, and I froze, unsure if I’d imagined the strange movement. I stared harder, going deeper beyond the layers, until I barely noticed the room fading away around me.
It was the delicate veins of the rose traveling to an unknown destination that held my attention. Then, as if they had been doing it the whole time, the lines were physically moving, following some predestined path. The visible ambrosial aroma twirled again in a rhythmic pattern, round and round, as if it were dancing to an unheard symphony.
I tilted my head ever so slightly, attempting to hear the enchanting music that seemed to be making the rose come to life. The sound was a faint whisper like the gentle humming of busy bee on a warm summer day. I remained still. The patterns continued to move until I could no longer distinguish one line from another.
The entire rose stirred in a constant fluid motion, yet I could still see each individual petal. The gentle humming soon separated into a thousand voices of a great chorus, but they were soft and reverent as if they sang in humble praise to something beyond my comprehension. The harmonious song combined with the swaying aroma, which had wrapped itself around me in a tender embrace, brought tears to my eyes.
“Eve?” a distant voice asked.
The room came into focus, and I wiped my eyes. “What was that?”
Dr. Skinner smiled and said, “That was beauty in its purest form. As you just witnessed, beauty is an action. It will continue to create the grandeur of this rose until its life span ends. But just like everything else in this world, beauty has an opposite—ugliness. It, too, is an action and creates its object to be loathsome and dark, with intentions to serve its own selfish desires. In a similar manner, these two opposites also affect humans.”