Iris had attempted again to breach her former patterns, yet whenever she did so she felt even more confused than before. She had no emotional guide for her reactions or instincts; she had no Natasha to loft herself upon or a Roy that might put what she felt into the terms that were necessary for her to understand them. Eva, too, was no help; Amelie she feared hurting. And so her emotions became pattern; she would feel happy when talking with Olivia, but then she would feel that reservation again.
For now she knew she did not wish to be around Amelie or Eva, and so she decided to ask Suki, who seemed to enjoy that Iris had come to her rather than the other way around. It was odd, for Suki had bragged that the other proteges liked her, though Iris suspected it was for different reasons than she believed.
But she had noted these seemingly mundane things were a point of pride for Suki, however much she was attempting to wield them over Iris. It was not in an abusive nor braggart sense, for it was a belligerence Iris recognized in herself; that by external expression could she attempt to sheathe her inner self. What Iris had solved through physical violence Suki was attempting to resolve through emotional exaggeration, that over time had likely calcified to where a smaller expression of herself appeared to her not as normalcy but weakness. She had confused the exertion of weakness with strength, just as Iris in her teenage years had confused the exertion of strength with a lack of weakness.
But in her mentorship of Suki there had seemed a bitterness Suki held against her, though Iris could not tell why. She could not understand that her internal difficulties appeared to Suki as external ease; a beautiful girlfriend and a strong Revenant, a good physique and attention from women. But for Iris she darkly wondered what existence Suki had led to where a pair of dead parents and a mentor seemed a fantasizable alternative.
As they were walking out Suki said: "You're actually going to take me out with you today, huh? Not just throw me off onto somebody else?"
"I wasn't throwing you off onto other people, I was giving you the opportunity to hang around other mentors for a few days."
"Where's all that shit you said about how it's a mentor's duty to look after their protege? You'd rather go off with your ex-girlfriend for a day and not even bring me along?"
"I don't know who told you that, but Amelie's a close friend of mine who I haven't gotten to talk to in weeks."
"Bullshit. You look at me like I'm a burden. Like I'm a dependency. Like I'm a parasite."
Iris frowned. She had no clue whatever the hell had caused Suki's belligerence, which seemed buoyed by a medium outside her own actions; even with kindness she had seemed unable to sink such. She felt herself a virus that had wound itself around the mind of someone like Suki. "You don't believe that."
"Yeah, I do."
"No, you don't. You take every action I do like it's some sort of commentary on you. I don't look at you like you're a burden or a parasite, but I am starting to look at you like someone who constantly looks to piss me off for no other reason than that your own sick enjoyment."
Suki pressed up into her face. "Go ahead and fucking hit me if you're so mad about it. I heard you get pissed at people for no reason anyway, so what the hell, right?"
Iris glanced down and noted Suki had transformed Metamorphosis's claws. She could not believe that Suki seemed to legitimately want her to strike her; that she seemed inviting of it despite the obvious injury it would cause to their relationship. The temptation to Iris's temper was such that she did want to strike her, and tried to rationalize such through Natasha's threat to punch her; but she could not and would not strike her protege. Mostly she was ashamed that her own emotional weakness was preventing her from helping Suki with her Revenant weakness, and she thought to hate these feelings away from herself. Anger and the hardening of oneself had been easier for Iris than the subjectivity of human emotion.
She shook her head and continued on, as did Suki, and soon their argument melded into the anonymous sounds of the afternoon. The expression of herself seemed more important to Suki than the actual results of such, as if her behavior alone was more important than the reality into which such things were poured. She sensed that the woman lacked a centeredness of self, and so had latched upon that which was most visibly assailable; the moods and views of others; and decided to bottleneck herself into those perceptions. What had formed such a creature Iris was unsure, yet she could not negate such a philosophy by anger, for it was precisely because Iris became angry with her that she enjoyed pissing Iris off, as much a confirmation of she believed others viewed her as it was for deepening such reservoirs of self.
She tried to center herself on investigation for now. By now she did not need his location, for time would soon peel it open to her regardless, so it was his motivation she currently sought. As a masculine woman she had sought a sublimation of emotion both as her gender and the individual expression she had of such; there was a certain sense of pride she latched upon investigation, to which her own emotional state was an unfortunate intrusion. She sought to flush out this diminishing force that her emotions had on the rest of herself, yet could not do so, buoyed as they were by the deeper sensuality of attraction and romance.
She visited the husband again and asked if he had his wife's work phone, which he did, and she went off with Suki to a private room for this. She had realized this morning that Kairos could revert phones; while she would only have one side of the conversation, the voice at the other end had once played through the phone itself, and so was lodged into that firmament of past and what no longer was.
Iris reverted the phone. She began to sift through prior conversations, and soon found one that she sensed was deeply personal within a few lines, irrelevant to her investigation, yet she was drawn to play it regardless. It spoke:
"But I stood alone in myself, and I felt no desire to rudder myself ashore another. He had always said I was intensely critical of him; that it seemed as if I were attempting to box him out by defining too narrowly what I wanted out of a relationship. He told me once that he felt apologetic for being with me, for he felt that I was looking for the perfect man, and instead I ended up with him.
But it was five years, a few of those without passion, and we decided to exit. I think it was my having an abortion without telling him that he took harshly, really, once he found out, but I... I excused the abortion as that it would be cruel to bring a child into existence. But in reality, I wonder if I was frightened of the feelings I would have for the baby. No, I'm not one to believe in the personhood of a fetus, but there was an idea that I feared harming with my reality. There was an emotion it spun in me that frightened me; an intensity I've noted in other encounters, which I then try to avoid.
…
That was a pupil of mine, yes. I always found his work overly emotional. He later wrote a book about me, or claimed that one of his characters was based on me. He mailed me the manuscript. I still haven't read it. I might call it a lack of enthusiasm if I thought I could maintain even that state for long, yet this nothingness has stuck within my life for quite a while....
…
…then there was Mary and David, yes. We were friends in college. We avoided the braking of bonds that typically occur in adult life, but once I became head of the philosophy department... it became too embarrassing to be seen around them, although the embarrassment was mostly my own. I think they sensed this, as they made their excuses for me so that neither of us would need to look at why this had occured. Yes, they certainly can't claim head of philosophy, but they weren't bad people: only unsuccessful. But our separation was eased by both our unwillingness to discuss it. I had heard later that David commit suicide, and Mary had re-married, but I haven't summoned in myself that desire to extend towards her again.
…
Why? I don't know. I suppose it would be awkward. I would feel as if I were dropping my role. And... perhaps it would open me to the possibility that this state of myself is not mandatory. I've become accustomed to viewing my life as almost a comic version of Waiting for Godot. Each day is similar but for the microflux of particular events, which no behavior seems to intrude upon nor is able to change. Which is why I rebuked you in our last session, when you told me that we're the sum of our choices.
…
Yes, but what I took issue with is that you wouldn't admit how limited those choices often are. Our own desires can become meaningless under the weight of those limitations, such unfair randomness.
…
I don't know. I began these sessions at first with the goal that I would find out a little more about myself, and yet I suppose I already have. Introspection has always been my personal temptation. But isn't my tendency to introspect itself a retreat? If I became some unfeeling philosophizing automaton, then I would no longer need to ponder how I've built my life. If I can pretend my life is cold and cerebral, then I would no longer be harmed by it. But what frightens me most about what I pretend to be is that I wonder if I would be capable of intense passion if I could just one day allow myself to feel."
Iris told Suki that she needed to check on something. She temporarily left. She drove out to a nearby pier, parked, and began walking. As she walked down the pier, she noted no one else, and no spectators to her bubbling emotion. She attempted to cry, but could not. She felt her eyes dampen, as a web of associative memory unearthed itself in her expression. She felt awful. Once, twice more she attempted. "…g-god..." She fell to the ground as she began sobbing.