Saved Between the Sheets: An Anthology of Stories that Get to the Point

by R. M. Walker

  “Who’ll be inside?” I asked, pouring over the lines I’d stared at for nights on end, seeing them all in a new light.

  “The inside won’t be open to the public. I mean, you know it’s basically a bunch of maintenance tunnels and shady office spaces. But we do think it will be reasonably well guarded. Rip wasn’t subtle about her plans to take down the Arc so they could be expecting us. They’ll definitely want to make sure nothing goes awry. With the whole city there, they can’t afford for anything to get in their way.”

  “Anything, as in us.”

  “Exactly. The fireworks will go off, the bell tower will count down, and the mayor will cut the yellow ribbon so that everyone can walk through the Arc de la Patrie in celebration.”

  “I have a question,” I said, tapping my fingers on the map. “Can’t Dari just suggest that the men don’t walk through it? Or, like, start suggesting equality?”

  “No,” Dari sighed, plopping down across from me. “I’m working on it, but currently I’m still incapable of world domination. My powers weaken on groups.”

  “Besides, is that how you’d really want it, Elle?” Des asked. “Us having to suggest to men that they don’t assault us? That’s not the world we’re fighting for. That world is the same one as Coque’s.”

  I stared at the two women, their gazes fixed on the schematics of the Arc, and couldn’t help but smile. Probably most of the world’s biggest revolutions started out in small dirty rooms with people who just wanted to do the right thing. I watched the uninitiated leaders of a ragtag movement mutter to themselves, their resilience for the cause giving me hope.

  “The last thing we have to figure out is where the switch for the power is–” Des sighed. “And that’s where you come in, Elle. You can dig around for the blueprints at your office, see if there’s anything to tip off where the switch might be planted.”

  “Got it,” I said, sounding a lot more confident than I felt. “But how will we disable it?”

  “Already have that part covered.” Dari smiled. “There’s just someone you have to meet.”

  * * *

  “Hello, and welcome to Superheroes Anonymous. I see we have some new faces today. We’re glad you’re here!”

  I sat in the chair between Des and Dari, wondering what the hell I’d just gotten myself into. Looking around, it became clear that supernatural powers graced humans of all shapes and sizes. I’d never been in a room with so many people who – I assumed, at least – also shared in abilities which defied nature.

  “Hello, Rainbow Princess Catstorm,” the blonde leader nodded at Dari.

  “Yo.” Gaydar held up a peace sign. I looked at her in question and she wiggled her eyebrows at me as if this new alias was old news.

  “Would someone like to start us off about their week?” the leader transitioned us. “Did you save anyone? Did you accidentally destroy a whole city square in the process? We’re here to listen.”

  A squat man of about forty raised his hand timidly. His round, tanned face was outlined by patchy scruff and his face lit up with a sort of insecure jolliness, revealing a gap between his two front teeth. “Hi everyone, I’m Sir Ravenbeak–”

  “–Hi, Sir Ravenbeak–”

  “And I am a superhero! This week has been rough for me. You all know that my powers can be unpredictable and self-sabotaging. I almost had a breakthrough on Monday, when I had an opportunity to make someone’s life better. Let’s just say that in no uncertain terms, I made it worse.”

  “You will always struggle with being different, sometimes it’s one step forward and six steps back. Remember the mantras we encourage you all to practice outside of these sessions.”

  Sir Ravenbeak nodded. “I accept the things that make me special. I respect myself with or without my powers”

  All the voices joined together except mine: “My choices are more powerful than my abilities. I have the right to create opportunities where I am free to be my truest self.”

  “Very good.” The leader clapped her hands together. “What about you?” she asked, turning to stare me square in the eye. “Why are you here today?”

  “Hi,” I waved awkwardly, hyper-aware of my next words. “My name is El–”

  I got a quick elbow to the ribs courtesy of Rainbow Princess Catstorm.

  “–El, um, Clobbero,” I finished ungracefully.

  “And you are?”

  “And I am a superhero?”

  “Say it confidently, El Clobbero.”

  “I. Am a. Superhero,” I said, in arguably the same way as I’d said it before.

  “Thanks for joining us today. Tell us a little about yourself. No details please – we try to keep our alter egos anonymous.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as ten pairs of eyes looked at me. “Like all of you, I can do a thing that quote-unquote normal people can’t. But sometimes I feel guilty about not taking advantage of what I can do. I’m not helping people, per se, and now that I’m trying to help people... umm, I’m not sure how.”

  Des gave me a thumbs up.

  “Very relatable and eloquently said, El Clobbero,” the woman lied. “Now let’s all try a breathing exercise. Let the negative feelings go – the setbacks, the failures, the Yelp reviews– and just be. Exist in this moment that we call the-now.”

  I leaned over to Des. “Is this yoga class or group therapy?”

  She winked. “Don’t disrespect the power of positive thinking... El Clobbero.”

  * * *

  After the session wrapped up, the three of us waited outside, leaning up against the grubby brick wall as we waited for Des’ contact to show.

  “So have you, like, never had an O?” Des said abruptly. “You afraid that the good ones will cause earthquakes or something?”

  My brow furrowed, wondering if this was a continuation of my therapy session. “That I’d involuntarily crush my partner in the midst of my ecstasy,” I mumbled. “But yeah, that too.” I tilted my head, considering whether or not I wanted the next words to exit my mouth, but it’d been on my mind so I decided to put it out there. “Des, I have this fantasy about being tied up. I don’t feel great about it, and I’m wondering... I guess I just feel bad about it. Like it’s hypocritical to be this inhumanly strong woman who fights for equality, and also be someone who gets off to the idea of being powerless.”

  Des laughed. It was a kind laugh, gentle in a way that I wouldn’t have expected with her rough, matter-of-fact exterior. Something about the sound reassured me.

  “I’m going to tell you two very important things I’ve learned, Elle,” she said, as Dari nodded along, listening intently. “The first: being a feminist is not hard. It’s not some secret society with a gatekeeper. You just have to believe that your worth and choices matter because you are a woman second to being a human. People can fight about the nuances of the cause if they want, but from where I stand, what you say with your voice and how you choose to use your body are yours to decide. Which brings me to lesson two: sometimes the most powerful thing any of us can do is surrender. Your body is one expression of that. So stop feeling guilty for that shit.”

  I was trying take this all in when Des suddenly kicked off the wall. “Hey Ralphie,” she said, interrupting Sir Ravenbeak as he muttered the matras to himself while exiting the meeting. “We wanted to catch up with you. This is our latest recruit, FemiFist.”

  “I’m Elle,” I said, sticking out my hand. “I save cats.”

  “And now humanity,” Dari chimed in.

  “Hey, I’m Ralph,” he said, his hand clammy with nervous energy.

  “The WishGranter,” Des said knowingly. “Don’t worry, we’re all buds so no one needs to worry about secret identity.”

  “The WishGranter, huh? You’re like the fairy godmother I never had. Am I allowed to wish for a more interesting love life?” I joked.

  The Wishgranter grunted, holding the sound as he blew out from his teeth and doubled over. I cut my eyes to Des, who looked totally
unconcerned despite the fact that her friend looked like he was about to take a particularly difficult shit in the streets.

  “Are you alright?” I peered over at him.

  “Oh, he’s fine,” Des reassured me. “Just granting your wish. You really should’ve been more careful.”

  The WishGranter gasped. “Sorry, I can’t help it. It’s a compulsion! I hear it, and I feel pressured to grant it, and I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I don’t know what I’ve just done!”

  I realized then that Ralphie was the one whose powers were unpredictable. With so many tales of woe and insecurity in a single super-powered hour, I’d forgotten.

  “Once, a woman he was in love with wanted to grow her hair out, and let’s just say that the wrong hair hasn’t stopped since.” Dari raised her brows at me knowingly.

  “Oh my god,” I whispered. “I didn’t think I’d, like, actually wished it.”

  “Ralphie and his therapist have been working on getting him to a place where he only grants the wishes that are potential wins for him,” Des explained. “It’s been rough, but you’re getting there, Ralphie! Maybe your wish won’t even have weird side effects, Elle.”

  Something about the way Ralph’s face was turning blue didn’t make me feel too reassured.

  “Otherwise, it’s pretty much guaranteed that things are about to get messy,” Dari said out of the side of her mouth. I slid my eyes to her with a look that said her commentary wasn’t helping. The message didn’t get through. “Maybe your next orgasm will, in fact, be killer,” she said, chuckling at her own joke.

  “Anyway, when Ralphie isn’t in therapy or cleaning up his messes, he’s kind of a tech nerd,” Des said, looking down at her friend proudly. “You’re going to sneak him into the building and he’ll disable the machine.”

  “I thought this was, like, a Girl’s Night Out thing. I mean, no offense Ralph.”

  “Yeah, well,” Des huffed, “we gotta get some girls in STEM first.”

  Ralph slapped Des on the back vigorously as he finally recovered. “Don’t worry, FemiFist. I’m an ally.”

  Chapter Five

  “And can I also get a low-fat lavender latte but only with one and a half pumps of the lavender, and an extra shot of espresso. Oh, and hold the foam.”

  “What size?” the barista said, staring at the girl three ahead of me without blinking.

  “Let me guess,” I heard the guy behind me say. “A grande in a venti cup?”

  His voice sounded familiar. I whipped my head around with a smile readied for my compatriot in this ungodly line–

  Holy hell. The ‘Max that got away.

  I stared at him for a moment, taking in those blue eyes and the dark lashes that framed them against a tanned face. It was definitely him. He smiled back and my stomach leapt. His brow furrowed when I didn’t look away, and then I hurriedly moved my gaze back to the counter where the girl asked for a larger cup.

  “What a coincidence,” I said to myself sarcastically, realizing this must be the work of The WishGranter. My face heated. What did I do? What did I say? I was suddenly very aware of my arms and how long and useless they were.

  “Not a coincidence,” he said, and I turned back to around. “Just good observation skills.” I realized he was talking about the woman who’d just held up the line with her year-long order. “Look, she has fake nails with those glittery things that aren’t diamonds–”

  “Rhinestones,” I said.

  He nodded. “And she has perfectly curled hair despite the sweatpants she thinks we think she didn’t give a second thought to putting on this morning. Her name is definitely Ashley, but spelled with two ‘e’s or something.”

  “Wow, those are some large, stereotypical generalizations.” I raised my eyebrows as I looked him up and down, wondering how serious he was right now. He seemed to really believe himself. “Maybe even sexist. I haven’t decided yet.”

  He felt taller than before, on account of me not wearing asinine heels. His lips quirked up in that half smile that made my gut twist into an oblivion of want.

  “It’s Ashley,” I heard the woman at the counter say, “but with an ‘e’ at the end. No, not instead of the ‘y.’ E-y-e. God, everyone gets it wrong.”

  “Close enough,” Max shrugged. I could tell he was really proud of himself and trying to play it off. The whole line shuffled forward a few steps and I reluctantly moved away from him as he stepped closer to me. “I’m an equal opportunity observationalist if that’s what you’re concerned about. Look at that guy over there in the corner.”

  I followed his gaze to a guy with curly hair poking out of his beanie, who was nodding his head along to the music like a bobblehead. “He was the one who introduced all his friends to Bob Marley as a kid. He went through a phase of wanting dreadlocks like Bob Marley, and another phase of feeling guilty about wanting dreadlocks because of cultural appropriation. He was also the kid who introduced his friends to porn.”

  “You couldn’t possibly know that.” I rolled my eyes.

  I watched as the guy withdrew his laptop from a rasta bag and scrambled to close out of something. He looked around self-consciously.

  I narrowed my eyes, turning back to Max and trying to gage this skill. If he was so good at connecting the dots about people, why wasn’t he remembering the night we met?

  “Okay, so do it for me,” I said slyly, peering up at him as his dark hair curled down in his face. “Tell me all the super vapid parts of me that are easy to spot from a mile away.”

  The line moved forward and I waited patiently as the well-dressed man in front of me scooped change back into his wallet.

  Max bit his lip as he peered down at me intently. “Well, I wouldn’t say you’re vapid. You probably order–”

  “Small cold brew, please,” I interrupted, sliding out my card out for the barista.

  “–That,” he finished. “You’re simple but classic. You’ve got highlights in your hair that look natural and skin with a hint of bronze, so I imagine you enjoy sitting in the sun. Your sensible walking shoes imply that you’re on the go a lot. And you’ve got something there in your eye–”

  “What?” I asked, wiping at what I was sure was runaway mascara.

  “A sparkle,” he said without blinking. “Same thing,” he nodded at the barista.

  I cocked my head, taking this guy in. “Wow.”

  “Elle!” The man at the bar shouted, handing off the two cold brews to me as if they’d been a single order.

  “Elle.” Max nodded. “See? Simple.”

  “And classic,” I reminded him. “Okay, my turn.” I passed the second drink and he traded it for a straw he already had in hand. “You’re a man who notices things like highlights in women’s hair, so you’re either gay or a writer. You obviously don’t mind talking to strangers, but so far you’ve only talked to me, so I think it’s a safe bet that you’re a flirt. And since you’ve managed to follow me all the way over to this table, I’m guessing you’d like to sit down?”

  Max’s smile was answer enough. “Have we met before?” he asked. “You seem familiar for some reason.”

  “I don’t know, have we?” I smirked.

  “James,” he said, offering me his hand.

  * * *

  Three hours passed like five minutes without us scratching the surface of polite small talk. James told me all about growing up with a single mom, and I told him all about growing up with a half-insane step-mom.

  “So what do you do now?” I asked, setting my head in my hand. The sky had grown dark out as the sun sank behind the skyrises, and I just barely avoided the gaze of the irritated baristas who thought three rounds of caffeine wasn’t enough to merit three hours of spot-taking.

  “One that’s finally keeping my feet on the ground. As for the exact job title, it’s a tell-ya-but-have-to-kill-ya situation.”

  “Ah,” I said, stomach beginning to knot. In the high of our reconnection, I’d forgotten to be apprehensive of my wish’s catch. �
��You’re not married are you?” I asked suddenly, too worried to even feel embarrassed about this swift change in topic.

  James gave such a startled laugh that I couldn’t help but believe his answer. “No. Definitely not. Wait, are you?” He leaned in, suddenly concerned.

  “No. No, no, no,” I reassured him, wondering why it was so important to emphasize just how single I was.

  “Now that that’s out of the way,” he chuckled, glancing down at his smartwatch a moment. “Sorry, I’m getting notifications, I should turn this off…” He did so and then looked back up. “Have you heard of this ‘free the Ripple’ thing that’s trending?”

  “Oh, yeah. I think I’ve heard something about that.”

  He released a long, thoughtful sigh. “What do you think about all this superhero controversy?”

  “I don’t know,” I scrunched up my face. “I don’t like the idea of them being registered like the mayor is proposing. I imagine some supers just want to live their lives like normal people.”

  “It seems like an unfair weight to put on them to come out into the open,” James agreed, eyebrows raised and gaze far away. “Being made into a political agenda just because of who they are.” He shook his head. “That’s what would happen. And it’s total bullshit.”

  “Anyone can choose progress and kindness,” I said. “There are more important qualities than–”

  “Flying?”

  “–super strength,” I finished. “I don’t know why I picked that one,” I said suddenly. “Was just the first one to pop in my head.”

  “Well, it’s the most cliché one so that makes sense.”

  “Um, except for flying!” I retorted.