Judging

When I was three, I was able to judge someone’s character just by touching them. When I would touch someone for the first time, I would see the worst thing they have done and the best thing they had done followed by either the word good or bad depending on the person.

              I told my mother, but she dismissed it as, me just saying things because I was a child. I never brought it up to her again after that. She wouldn’t have liked knowing that I knew the worst thing she had done anyways.

              So, I grew up with this secret alone.

              As time went on, I kept to myself more. I would wear gloves most of the time to keep from accidently touching someone. Of course, wearing gloves even in the summer did not make me any friends, but I didn’t mind. I lost myself in books and by the time I turned 18 I was the most well-read person anyone in my town had known.

              After high school my parents sent me to college. I didn’t want to go. It would be a whole new set of people to think I was strange. My parents won and I was sent to the other part of the state for college. I decided to become a therapist.

              I got my own practice young. My grandparents on my mother’s side of the family were rich and when they found out I was looking for places to work they thought why not buy me an office instead. I hired my only friend I ever had, Laney, to be my receptionist.

              At my practice I used my gift to help those who came in. Often the worst thing people done was the reason they came in. It would range from mom or dad issues to martial issues. Each case I would fix with ease until I came to my most difficult case.

              It was rainy day, with no signs of stopping. I had worn my black rain boots with the matching rain jacket and the matching umbrella. My red hair had decided to frizzy due to the weather, so it was pulled back in a ponytail. I tried wearing contacts, but they caused my eyes to itch so instead I was wearing my black rimmed glasses.

Laney was already in the office when I got there. On her desk sat a to go cup of coffee labeled with my name on it. “You’re 9 a.m. appointment is here.” She said looking up from her computer.

“Let me get settled and then send him in.” I told her rushing to my office.

After a few minutes he walked in. He stood a good foot taller than me and had dark black hair the color of black licorice which was greying at the top. His eyes were the color of the sky on that rainy day. He looked to be in his early fifties. I knew this man in front of me, but I was unsure where from.

“Come sit down.” I grabbed my clipboard as I motioned for him to sit on the chair. “Why are you here Mr. Moore?”

“It’s required for my job. I’m an officer and the therapist usually used has retired.” The man said.

“Oh, Sarah sent you.” Sarah was my teacher back in college. When she was not teaching, she worked with the police. Strangely Sarah had retired three years ago.

“Yes.”

“Sarah sent me the questions I needed to ask officers that come in.” I touched the officer’s arm.

For the first time since I was three, I could not see the worst and best thing he did. I did not see the words good or bad. I saw nothing, but him.

“Are you okay?” Officer Moore asked. “You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine, lets go through these questions.”

              I talked to Officer Moore for about an hour.  He then scheduled an appointment for next week, so he could finish his finally hour he needed for work.

              Laney then sent in another patient. I touched her arm and saw her first cheating on her husband and then I saw her save the life of a child who was drowning. The visons were followed by the word good.

              All night and every night for a week I thought about officer Moore. I was unable to sleep. I wanted to know what made him immune to my gift. He had to have done something good and something bad in his life.

              The day before officer Moore’s appointment I saw him at the local grocery store. He was wearing his uniform and was buying some groceries. I waved to him, but he did not see me. When I was putting my groceries in the car, I saw him talking to someone I recognized.  

              “Dad!” I called to my father. “What are you doing here?”

              “Jenney.” My father said startled. “I was getting some groceries.”

              “How do you know officer Moore?” I asked my father after giving him a hug.  

              “He is an old friend of mine.”

              “Well I better get going.” Officer Moore said. “I will see you tomorrow.”

              “How do you really know Officer Moore?” I asked my father. It was strange that my father knew the only person who I was unable to read.

              “I told you he is an old friend.”

              “Well I have to get going dad, I have frozen food.”

              “Do not forget you are coming home for dinner tonight.” My father gave me a hug. “Your mom and I miss you.”

              As I ate dinner with my parents, I thought about Officer Moore and the fact that he knew my father. I decided to go through the family photos my parents had at their home.

              “Why do you want to see these old family photos?” My mother asked handing me another photo album. “You have seen these photos many times.”

              “I have no specific reason, I just wanted to look.” I handed my mom the photo album I just finished looking at. “Thank you for this mom.”

              “I am going to finish getting the food put up and the dishes put up.” My mother kissed the top of my head.

              I found the picture I was looking for after an hour of looking. The picture was of Officer Moore twenty years younger and dressed in a police uniform. His hair was completely black in the picture and his eyes had a light in them. Beside Officer Moore in the picture was my father.

              “Where was this picture taken?” I took the picture to my mom.

              “That is your father’s best friend from high school. He passed away a few years ago.”

              “I just saw him talking to dad this afternoon.”

              “Honey that isn’t possible. I went with your father to the funeral.”

              Then it hit me. If I had met Officer Moore when I was younger, I would have seen his worst and best thing he did. I only can see it the first time I touch someone. I tried to think about what I saw back then. I had remembered every time I touched someone and the outcome, but I could not remember what I saw when I touched Officer Moore.  

              “Is Officer Moore in for his appointment?” I asked Laney as I walked into the office the next morning.

              Laney pushed her blonde hair out of her face. “He said he did not need this appointment after all, so he cancelled.”

              I put my bag down and walked over to the front desk where Laney was sitting. “Can I ask you something?”

              “Of course.”

              “Does this look like Officer Moore, just younger?” I handed her the picture I found.

              “That is him. Where did you find this picture?”

              “My father was friends with him, but according to my mom he Officer Moore died a few years ago.” I then went on and told Laney about how I had seen Officer Moore talking to my dad at the store.

              “Did you look up Officer Moore up online?” Laney typed on the computer in front of her. “Here he is.”

              On the computer screen was the obituary of Officer Moore. It was dated exactly two years ago.   The picture with the obituary was that of the man I had seen talking to my dad.

              Looking at his obituary I remembered what I had seen when I touched Officer Moore when I was four. It had been the worst vison I had ever seen. I saw Officer Moore brutally kill his whole family.