The Last Superhero (18 page)

“
This
is it, isn't it? The one? The last big scare?”

The line goes silent for a
couple of agonizing seconds before Simon breaks through. “She'll
be fine.”

“
What
was she waiting for? Why did she ask for time when she knew she
shouldn't wait?”

Dad's the one to answer this
time. “She wanted to make sure you'd be okay.”

Steven's lowered himself in
front of me, his hands holding my jaw, his thumbs brushing my cheeks.

Okay? Am I okay? I'm not
okay. Will I ever be fucking okay?

“
I'll
call you later, baby. Try and get some rest so you can see her
tonight. Mari Paz and I are landing there soon and we'll talk.”

Is he using a mobile inside
a plane during flight?

“’
Kay,
Dad.”

He hangs up.

“
She
says you can bring Steven if you feel like it,” says Simon.

“
Okay.”

“
I'll
text you.”

“
Okay.”

“
See
you later.”

“
Okay.”

Okay.

Keep saying it.

Okay. Okay.

Keep thinking it.

Okay. Okay. Okay.

“
Mom's
in the hospital. Simon will text me when we can see her.”

Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay.

Because his hands are still
on your face and when you put the phone down he gathers you in his
arms and means it when he says, “Everything's going to be
okay.”

Okay. The tears, the sting.

Okay. The hand that takes me
to his bedroom, not asking any questions.

So I lie face down on his
bed for I don't know how long, sobbing the anger away, and his hand
doesn't stop caressing my back. I can feel the ripples of air his
fingers are creating over my shirt and they are soothing enough.

I can't cry anymore, at
least not today.

I hate this. I hate the way
she treats this whole thing.

This isn't the first time
she’s hidden stuff like this from me and it angers me that
she's involved Simon too.

She does love him like a
son. Back then, his parents had given up on him. But not Mom. And
certainly not me.

And he came through and look
at him now.

If there's something Mom and
I have in common is that love for the underdog, for the
misunderstood, for the tragic hero.

I can feel Steven kissing my
ear before the mattress shifts. He's rolled onto his back yet keeps
one arm resting over me.

Twist my neck, see his
profile.

Find it so sweet and serene.

Not showing that behind
those eyes lie so many broken dreams.

I turn on my side and his
arm ends up under me, keeping me close, drape one leg over his and
don't want to let go. Draw circles on his chest, the fabric of his
T-shirt catching in my fingertips, rest my head on the crook of his
neck, and will my mind to slow down.

I say, “Can you take
me somewhere?”

He says, “Where do you
want to go?”

I say, “Anywhere.”

He says, “Will you let
go?”

And I nod. And he stirs. And
his hand combs stray locks of my hair before his fingertips rest on
my temple.

The blinding light takes
time to adjust to and we're standing at a riverbank, a place I've
been before.

Look up at Steven and he's
suddenly so tall.

Look down at myself and I'm
all but too small.

“
Giana!
Where are you?”

My father's voice. It's
coming from the trees behind me.

“
There
you are! You've given us a fright, young lady.”

I wheel to the source of the
voice and he's standing on the edge of the tree line. Dark auburn
hair and heavy beard.

Search for Steven, he's not
there anymore.

“
Come
on! Your mother is roasting the marshmallows and if we don't make it
back quick, we'll have lumps of coal instead of s'mores.”

I can't help the grin that
etches itself in my face as I hurry to take my father's hand.

His hand, so big and strong
and calloused because of his hobby making pretty things out of chunks
of wood.

His back so broad and square
waves at me like a flag and I follow that sign of safety, of peace,
of everything one associates with home.

I'm wearing my favorite
boots, my favorite jeans with embroidered butterflies, and a sweater
with my favorite cartoon characters on the front.

The forest swallows us until
we reach the campsite and Mom's piercing marshmallows with overly
long wooden sticks and one falls on the dirt and she grabs it.

“
Don't
even think about it.” Dad gives her a playful growl and she
answers with a smile and a kiss as we take our places around the
fire.

Pass the marshmallows, pass
the chocolate, pass the crackers.

And nothing else matters.

Take in the sight of them
together and let it sink deep inside.

Bury it in that part of your
heart that makes lists of impossible things.

Rule out the truth, if only
for a bit.

And nothing else matters.

Not for now, and maybe not
even later.

While I'm sitting here in
what could've been, in what should've been.

While I find that trust I so
much seek.

And nothing else matters.

Especially when I come back
and that hazel gaze studies my face through the darkness of the night
that has fallen upon us and says my phone made a sound and I stretch
my stiffened body and utter a grunt and he chuckles at it and can't
help but gather me in his arms once more.

And we get up and ready
ourselves to head out the door.

18

Pushing open a hospital door
is like crossing an arch into humanity itself.

A fucking reminder of our
frailty.

And of cleanliness, yeah,
with the whole disinfectant smell and white walls and shiny floors.

And people with sullen
faces, unless it's someone holding a pack of huge balloons like the
dude who steps into the elevator before us.

It's a boy. Congrats. Have
any cigars in there? I could really use one now.

The
elevator goes
ding
.

Blergh.

Ding
.
Not
yet.
Ding.
Bye-bye balloons.
Ding.

And there he is.

The brown eyes and the
beard, now gray, await.

“
Dad.”
The kiss on my cheek that reverberates inside me and the hug that
tightens itself around me while I keep my arms crossed over my chest.

Bracing myself because all
this makes me want to die a little.

“
You
must be Steven.” He stretches out a hand that Steven takes.

“
Dr.
Armstrong.” He's making up his features since he looked so much
younger in the fantasy.

“
Where
is she? And where's Mari Paz?”

“
Mari's
at the hotel and will come around later. Your mother's in an
intensive care unit and they only let one person in at a time. I'll
get Simon so you can see her.”

“
He's
with her?”

Dad peers into my eyes.
“He's a member of this hospital's board.”

The snob.

See Dad walk away, turn to
Steven and he's got this look in his eyes.

“
It's
all right.”

“
Yeah.”
Sigh. “All right.”

Thought that fantasy would
have a longer effect.

Or maybe's just me, you
know, 'cause I'm so fucking good at spoiling everything.

Dad comes back with Simon
and I'm led into the room and have to take deep breaths not to go
berserk on that woman who sees me and her eyes are glistening with
tears, asking for forgiveness.

When did I turn so bitter,
so severe that my own mother fears my reaction?

Not that I don't want to go
all why-you-doing-this-to-me-bitch on her ass because I've spent the
past ten years of my life nursing something akin to a semi-normal
life that will make no sense if she's gone.

Leave the door, pull up a
chair, take her hand.

Listen to her labored
breathing.

Say something, for fuck's
sake. Swallow that knot in your throat and blurt something out.

She inhales. She exhales.

“
I'm
sorry.” She's the first to talk.

“
No
need to be,” is my answer to that.

“
Of
course I have to.” She pats my hand.

“
Why?”
is the question I ask.

Inhales. “I was
worried about you.” If only I could read her mind. “Now I
see you're all right.” Exhales.

Okay. All right.

Everybody keeps saying that.

“
Am
I?”

Do not take into
consideration that I've got a specter that lives inside nightmares
and hates my guts attached to the man who has conquered my puny
little heart.

Way to mix the yin with the
yang.

Inhales. “You are. You
will.” Takes a pause. “Don't go thinking I didn't
recognize him.”

Oh shit.

Going stiff is involuntary
and she closes her fist around my wrist.

“
Not
to worry. I'm not telling.” Turns her face away like we're in
some cheesy soap opera. Inhales. “He may not know it, but he's
saving my life a second time.” Exhales.

Avert the eyes, whatever you
do, avert the eyes.

And stop counting her
breaths.

“
He
did save me from getting mugged.”

“
Then
we both owe him.” She tugs my hand for me to look at her. “And
you can repay him so much better than I.” Wiggling eyebrows,
wicked smile, then a cough breaks that.

“
Mom!”

Inhale. “Come on.”
Exhale. “He's handsome and intelligent, and that smile...”

“
Jeez.”

“
Bet
he's...”

“
No.
Mom. No. I refuse to go down that path.”

Inhale. “The things he
must be able to do with his powers.” This exhale is of the
dramatic kind.

Want to puke. AGH. Where's
that trash can?

“
Stop
it. Parents and sex should never go together.”

“
Prude.”

“
You
keep your nose where it's at.”

Inhale. “Has he given
you any fantasies yet?” Exhale.