i, robot

Chapter Eight

An hour passed. I had finished my breakfast and was looking over some notes. I heard a slight knock on my bedroom door. With a turn of the knob, in came Ward. He looked worried which concerned me, not only because I wanted to know why but how? I turned my desk chair around completely as he took a seat at the edge of my bed. He looked at the tray that was completely cleaned of all food. "How was it?" He asked, staring at the ground. He had a small smile lining his lips and his skin turned a light pink. Was he blushing? I analyzed him for a few moments, unintentionally ignoring his question. I looked over his whole physique. Was it okay to be that perfect? "I guess not." I looked up to see his smirk gone and a disappointed look on his face.  Flustered, I turned my attention to his question. "No it was amazing. Everything was perfect. Can't you tell by the empty plate?" I offered a smile which seemed to cheer him up. I got up from my seat and began collecting the dishes and tray to bring to the kitchen. I felt his eyes on me, scoping my body from head to toe. I caught a glimpse of him staring as if he were in amazement. "Everything okay?" I questioned as I pushed my chair under my table and grabbed the tray. With a clear of his throat, he answered "yeah everything's fine", the rosy pink tint rising to his cheeks as it did before. I smiled and walked out the room.

On my way downstairs, I felt a sense of excitement, as if I were a kid at the candy store. What was going on? I never feel this way and especially when nothing happened. I set the tray down on the counter, rinsing each dish and placing it in the dishwasher. When I finished, I  wiped the tray down and returned it to its appropriate cupboard. During my time in the kitchen, I kept thinking of Ward blushing. How could he blush? What was he feeling in order to blush? How is he feeling anything? The answers I have received to my question were not enough to make them go away. I needed to know. Can a robot, an Android, really feel? Was it programmed? Or is it real? My overthinking consumed me as I wiped down the counter that I'm sure was already clean. To my surprise, I felt something touch my side. Jolted from my thoughts, I jumped and turned to see Ward with his hands up posing like I were a cop that just busted him. Breathing heavily, I smiled and placed my hand on my chest as if my touch would calm my accelerated  heartbeat.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you heard me come down the stairs. Are you okay?" He had that worried look on his face again. Why was he so concerned about me all of a sudden? I shook my head, chuckling at his concern. "I'm fine. I was in a trance and I guess I didn't register your footsteps. It's all good though." I turned back around, rinsing the rag I was using to wipe the counter and hanging it up. He stayed in the same spot, resting his hands down on the counter and looking at the floor. His somber demeanor made me uncomfortable. I wasn't used to him like this. I studied him. His face was sad. His hands gripped the counter as if he were holding on for dear life. His eyes were full of concern and fear, caught in what seemed to be a daydream. Can he daydream? My overactive thoughts returning. I pushed them away. It wasn't the time to overthink his humanity. Something was wrong.

Grabbing an iced tea from the fridge, I headed to the couch and turned on some jazz music, hoping it would lighten the mood. I sipped my tea and listened as Ward moved from the kitchen to the spot next to me on the couch. I turned to him, folding my legs under me like a kindergartener during circle time. "What's wrong?" I spoke, no longer able to bear the silent somber he was in. He looked at me, finally coming out of the trance he was in. His eyes transitioned to a deep blue, reminding me of the ocean at night. They were dark and held so much sadness. I looked down at my hands, unable to maintain such an intense stare. He continued looking at me, bringing his hand up to my face, forcing my eyes back to his. I felt like I was drowning in his glare. What was going on?

He finally broke the stare, dropping his hand and returning it to his lap. A part of me felt a sense of despair, longing for his touch. Finally he spoke. "About last night..." My heart dropped. I had a feeling it was about that. I knew I should have listened to my gut. I should have never bought him. But if I didn't, who knows what would have happened. "That guy was hurting you. You seemed so hopeless when I got to you. I never thought I'd see you that way. You always seem so.. so strong. It scared me. A lot." I stared at his profile, his face dropping to his hands. He took a deep breath and sat back up. His honesty was so raw. So real. I didn't know how to reply. "I felt something. The whole night, I was able to find you somewhere in the club. Then when I couldn't, I freaked out. I went outside and I didn't see you there. Then I started walking and I.. I.." I leaned into him, placing my hand on his knee. He placed his over mine, giving it a slight squeeze. "I heard you. I heard your cry and it scared the crap out of me. I started running toward the noise and when I saw you, a part of me broke. I was so angry. I hurt that man yesterday but I don't feel any remorse. I was so worried about you. I didn't know what to do." I tried to process everything he had just said. He feels. He has emotions. He has a temper. But how? Pushing that aside, I did the only thing I thought would help. I leaned over and gave him the biggest hug I could, hoping I could somehow repair whatever broken spirit that seemed to be inside him. I felt him hug me back, squeezing on to me for dear life. Then to my surprise and amazement, I felt tears fall from his eyes onto my shoulder. I held him tighter, pulling him as close to me as I could. He returned every bit of it. I whispered calming words into his ears and tried to get him to relax. I thanked him for everything he did, reassuring him that he did the right thing and that none of this was his fault. Slowly but surely, I felt him relax. His tears stopped. We held eachother a little longer before settling on the couch in eachother arms. He held me at his side, my head resting on his shoulder, and his on my head. Emotionally drained, each of us drifted to sleep with the sound of smooth jazz playing in the background.