The She-Hulk Diaries (43 page)

There was some great news: the liquid in Adam’s vacuum canister was the last sample of Dr. Doom’s Project Mimic solution. Max, back in charge of ReplaceMax, was able to use that tiny amount to grow bioidentical skin grafts for all the victims of the sabotaged products. People forget that skin is our largest organ, and the grafted skin taught all the other organs to repair themselves. A week after the grafts, the patients were completely healthy. Mavis came out of her coma and was discharged from the hospice.

Genoa is working pro bono to get charges reduced against Burt Symonds based on temporary insanity. His wife, Bonnie, visits him every day at the detention center.

I asked Max to grow a graft for someone who hadn’t been in the ReplaceMax program: Jordy. Because his cancer was so invasive, his recovery is taking a little longer, but he called to tell me that he’ll be well enough to attend a late-summer session at Manic Quantum Mechanics, and he’ll be going to high school in the fall.

Mavis calls me every day and tells me all the things she’s been doing. “Jenny, we have sticks and we’re playing sword fights! When will you be back?”

“I don’t know, sweetie, but when I come to New York, I’ll be sure to visit you. I’ll take you to the park and we’ll play.”

Someone whose name rhymes with Macaroni Bark left a message for me:

“Jen, you did a terrific job saving planet Earth from the evil machinations of Doom. Too bad about Hawkeye’s underground lair. It was a great place for our pop-up sushi restaurant.

“The next time Shulky’s in town, have her set up a lunch meeting with me. Would enjoy seeing that sexy sassy bitch and talking about ways she can work with our team again. I’d be happy to have a naked wresting match in oil with her to negotiate details.

“Also, please tell Claudette that I think Hasselhoff Stark is an
awesome
name for our kid.”

Rene and I have long phone conversations as I try to sort out my thoughts. I told him that I could have cleared everything up with Ellis years ago when I heard the songs.

He told me, “But then your entire life’s path would be different. Ellis, too, could have listened more closely and not confused Jen with Gin and USC with UCLA,
go Bruins!
If you had been with Ellis, you wouldn’t have been in the situation where you were infected with gamma radiation. If you were less shy, you wouldn’t have manifested as She-Hulk. The world needs all manifestations of you. It was meant to be.”

“I thought psychiatrists believed in self-determination, not fate.”

I could hear his hippie beads clinking against the phone. “We have some discretion. We Alvarados like to think there’s a greater force of good at work in all universes.”

“And passion.”

“Yes, we believe in passion. You’ll have to deal with Ellis sometime, Jen. You love him.”

“I nearly got him killed. I destroyed his friend’s reputation and life’s work. I made his father’s firm a tool of Doom’s world domination scheme. I accused him of trying to tamper with the trial. I callously ignored a dozen love songs over the years.”

“Callously? I thought you cried yourself to sleep with a picture of him on your pillow and wrote his name with little hearts over the i’s.”

“Are you getting snarky on me, Rene?”

“We have some discretion about that, too,” he said, and chuckled. “We’ll discuss these things in our next session. Keep writing in your journal and try to see recent incidents in the larger perspective of your life.”

“The pages in my journal are almost filled up. I guess I’ll have to buy another
KEEP HANGING IN THERE!
kitten notebook.” I sighed. “I keep hanging on.”

He didn’t answer right away, and I listened to the calming
click-click
of him fiddling with his beads. Finally he said, “Jen, has it occurred to you that you’re taking the wrong message from the kitten? You told me that Ruth said she admired fluffy kittens for a reason.”

I thought back to the beginning of the year. “She said that kittens have an internal gyroscope so that when they fall, they can twist into the right position to land on their feet.”

“Why is the kitten hanging on?” he said.

“Because it’s terrified of being hurt. It’s hoping that someone will come and rescue it.”

“Do you need rescuing, Jen?”

I thought about the wide eyes of the panicked kitten. “No, I always land on my feet.”

“Then stop being afraid,” he said. “Let go.”

I’ve been trying to make bread, which really shouldn’t be that much harder than winning cases on other planets, but it is. I’d thrown out yet another inedible loaf when I got a call from Dahlia.

“Watcha doing, poodle?”

“Baking nummy homemade bread, except for the nummy part. More like mummy bread that should be put into a tomb and forgotten for a thousand years.”

“Are we back to talking about ancient pharaohs again, or are you going to audition for a reality show as a sister-wife? They have awful hairstyles. I’ve finished decorating your Medieval tunic, and Nelson and Amy have made your weaponry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jen, our relationship has been one of support and mutual admiration. You admire my fabulous style, and I support your right to be you, which means that I endured your unreasonable hatred of Rodney and your obsessive ranting about Tony Stark.”

“You liked to gossip about Tony, and hating Rodney is reasonable!”

“Adam doesn’t think so. He thinks Rodney is delightful, and Rodney is now the alpha dog in his pack. My point is, you’ve had your sabbatical, and now it’s time to return to civilization before you bleach your hair blond and start auditioning for detergent commercials as ‘Young Suburban Mom.’ The Forestiers are expecting you to show up and fight battles for their team.”

“A, since when do you care about my LARP team, and, B, I don’t feel like it.”

“One, if you come back, I’ll treat you to Filipino nacho fries. I hear on good authority that they are the most genius food in the galaxy. Two, I wasn’t asking you to come back; I was telling you. And three, you have moped after Ellis Tesla for years too long. If you don’t want me to call you Sulky, stop acting like a lovesick teenager. Come home.”

I stayed at Dahlia’s condo the night before the Mayfest weekend. I tried on the costume she’d made and said, “It’s too bad my sewing machine got destroyed in the explosion. I was going to learn to sew.”

“Please, Jen, kindly stop talking shit about homemaking skills. You’re a superhero and a top-level attorney. Focus on that.”

I stood in front of the mirror wearing my forest-green tunic, tights, leather and velvet slippers, breastplate, and cape.

D adjusted my gold-braid headband and said, “I’ve got something for you.” She went to a drawer and pulled out something wrapped in tissue. “Close your eyes and sit down.”

I did what I was told because she was in a bossy mood. She brushed my hair, lifted it, and pinned and arranged it for several minutes.

“Okay, look in the mirror,” she said.

She’d added long pieces to my hair, so that glossy waves flowed below my waist.

“Oh, D! It’s so pretty.”

“You’re so pretty.”

I took off my glasses. “Ladies didn’t wear glasses in the Middle Ages. Should I try my contacts again?”

“You’re not the only one who gives advice to clients, Jen. I always tell mine, ‘Find a signature look and stick with it.’ ”

Amy and Nelson gave me a lift to the Mayfest battle games outside Woodstock. They sat in the front of the car and kept holding hands and smiling at each other. I was glad things had worked out for them. If I hadn’t been trying to follow one Valentine’s Day Resolution—find a boyfriend—I wouldn’t have met Nelson and made a new friend. So things worked out for me, too.

A series of narrow lanes and turns led us to a sprawling farm property
with a red-and-blue satin banner reading, WELCOME, MAYFEST CELEBRANTS! We all signed in at the registration table, and then Nelson and Amy went off giggling to the B&B where they were staying.

I asked, “Is anyone else from my team here?”

The man in a gray roughcloth-and-leather yeoman’s costume said, “A new member of your folk is working on the castle battlements.” He pointed on the map. “You’re in the Marigold Coop, which is here.” He indicated squares on the map.

“I’m in a co-op? But I reserved a private space.”

He smiled. “Not co-op. Coop. The cottages are renovated chicken coops, but they’re very comfortable and pretty, so the maids say.”

I followed the map and found a small white structure with a porch. The walls inside were painted yellow, and the bed had a white coverlet. The only other furniture was a table with two wooden chairs. If I hulked out here, the whole place would come down.

I changed into my costume and walked through the verdant fields. I could hear birds singing and the rush of a creek nearby. Ahead was a stand of trees, and as I walked toward it, I saw a team in black-and-red costumes practicing a jousting scenario. A little farther along, I ran across teenagers dressed as minstrels who were swinging across a gully on a rope.

When one fell into the muddy water, his team laughed in a good-natured way, and I applauded his awesome emoting. Everyone looked magical and wonderful.

“Fair lady, where art thee headed?” asked a woman dressed as a farmer’s wife.

“I am to Lyncolnewoode to meet with my good fellows.”

“Oh, they hath a most valiant knight, who now prepares the castle against the king’s forces, which will arrive tomorrow. You will find him yonder, past the largest oak. God keep us in these perilous times.”

“I thank you, kind mistress. Fare thee well.”

I slowed down as I walked through the shrubberies, wishing that I had some carpentry skills so I could help. For my next Valentine’s Day
Resolutions, I would add practical skills, and by the year’s end I would be able to fix a sink, make a pot roast, and build a coffee table.

A tall man with broad shoulders was reinforcing a balcony column with a wooden brace. His dark hair was long and curled at his nape. He wore a silver tunic on which was a gray hawk against a black background, and his tights and shirt were green—the green of the forest, the green of She-Hulk, the green of those who risked their lives to defend the powerless.

He looked really hunky and brawny, really capable even from behind. Speaking of which, what a fantastic behind!

“Sir Knight!” I called.

He turned around and we both froze as our eyes met.

“Lady Greene,” he said, and we each took a step closer.

“Yes, I am she,” I said, though I could barely speak, or believe that I was meeting him here. I did a small curtsy.

His dark beard made his smile rakish and seductive, and his longer hair made him look wild and woodsy. “Do not be so formal, good lady, for you know how I feel. Verily, I have proclaimed my love for you so many times.” He took another step toward me. “I have proclaimed my love in every way you have come to me—when you are Gin or Jen, or Jenny, or She-Hulk.”

He reached and took my hand in his. He kissed it. “You must have a sorceress’s blood, my lady, because you always bewitched and bewildered me. I did not comprehend how my love could be so diffuse. It was as if I was trapped in a hall of mirrors. Each aspect of you captured my heart, and I was misled into thinking that I loved many women, when it was always you.”

“Good dear Sir Knight, I thought ’twas you who had magics, for I loved you first as cataclysmic Ellis Tesla, then as amiable, affectionate Big E, and as angsty, smoldering Ellis. Do you still have feelings for me?”

“Indeed, my lady, and I have always carried your favor,” he said, reaching into his tunic and pulling out a scrap of lace-edged pink silk.

My stolen panties!

I blushed over my entire body. “Oh! Ellis, do we have to keep talking like this?”

“Let’s not talk. Let your body tell me how you feel.” He returned the panties to his pocket and took me in his strong arms, and he smelled the way I remembered. Then his mouth came to mine, and his lips were as eager as I remembered. And our lips parted, and his mouth tasted the way I remembered.

And the rest of the world fell away.

Ellis had rented a house nearby, which was good because Shulky—I mean
I
could cause a ruckus when I was in my superhuman form. I am proud to say that I banged that big man harder than a porch door.

Dahlia had plotted everything with Nelson and Amy. D was an excellent plotter, and she and Adam showed up after Saturday’s skirmishes, when there was a bonfire and entertainments. On Sunday, while in the heat of battle with the king’s forces, Ellis and I clambered up the ladder to the castle parapets. We cried havoc and fought side by side.

We decided to stay another day. After all, he was his own boss and I didn’t have a job.

We were walking out in the night, looking at the starry sky, and he said, “What do you want me to call you?”

“Call me whatever you like.”

“You’re still Gin in my heart.”

“Then call me that.”

“Good, because it rhymes well and I plan to write more songs,” he said. “Amber hated the band. I need to tell you some things.”

“That’s probably a good idea. First, of all the women in the world, why Amber Tumbridge?”

“Did you hear about the incident with the pumpkins and the tank in Oslo? Well, my father had to use diplomatic connections to keep us out of jail. One of the conditions was that we would break up the band, agree to
effectively disappear, and become productive members of society. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, and no other woman made me feel the way you did, and I decided to accept that I’d lost my one chance. So when Amber pounced on me, I considered myself lucky enough. She was pretty, smart, and really nice at first. She kept mentioning how happy my father would be if his company stayed in the family. Her voice was so beautiful that I thought I could listen to it forever. All I heard was the sound of it, not her selfishness, coldness.”

“Her voice is beautiful,” I said. “Amber Hammerhead.”