With perfect timing, another waiter appeared to distribute their starters. He placed Karen’s plate in front of her before placing James’ soup in front of his empty seat with an exaggerated flourish.
“Would Madam like anything else?” he inquired, and from the hint of a smile that tugged the edge of his lips, Karen knew he thought she had been abandoned. Perhaps he was right.
“Another glass of wine, please. And make it a large one.”
Drinking alone at a dinner for two, she thought. Definitely a new contender for inclusion in her book of bad dates. She took a large swig and drained her glass, mentally composing another chapter.
When James eventually came back to the restaurant, hurrying over to rejoin her, the bottle of wine was almost empty. She saw James’ eyes flick toward it and then to her as he settled back into his seat, but upon seeing the expression on her face, he wisely chose to pursue a different line of conversation.
“I’m really sorry I had to rush off like that, but I really am feeling a lot better now. Have I missed the starters?”
“I’m afraid you have, Mr. James Black,” Karen laughed. “Mine was lovely, and yours smelled good too, but I told the waiters to take it away. After all, with your delicate stomach, we wouldn’t want you getting food poisoning from food that’s been left lying out, would we?”
“That’s probably a good idea. Thanks for being so thoughtful.”
She smiled sweetly but was nonetheless disappointed with the reaction. She knew it was petty, but she’d been hoping to elicit some kind of response; anything that showed he was actually invested in the here and now rather than half in the room.
Damn it—why did he have to be so reasonable? Was it all just an act or was he really just the decent big klutz that he appeared to be? Perhaps she should give him just one more chance.
“I really am sorry, truly. And I do want to hear more about you—you have my undivided attention. What else do you like about the city?” He pulled his chair closer to the table and sat forward, making a big show of paying attention.
“There is one thing,” Karen replied, “but it’s a little embarrassing.” She leaned closer and beckoned James to do the same, until their heads were almost touching. “I love superheroes,” she declared, before sitting back and awaiting his reaction.
Like everything James seemed to do, his response was measured and low-key, with just the hint of a raised eyebrow. “Superheroes? Really? For any reason in particular?”
His dismissive tone put Karen on the defensive, and she crossed her arms in frustration. “You think I’m being silly, don’t you?”
“No, of course not. I just wondered what it is about them that you like.”
She took another sip of wine while she considered her answer, wondering why she’d thought it was a good idea to share this. “It would be amazing to have powers, that’s for sure. But what I like about them is that they care, you know? They put their lives on the line to help people, most of whom they’ve probably never met. Most people I’ve met since I moved here don’t even give you the time of day, so someone who devotes themselves to helping others is pretty amazing.”
“When you put it like that, I suppose I can see your point,” said James with a smile. “It does create a high standard for us ordinary Joes to live up to, though.”
“Join the club. Have you seen what the girls wear? I think part of their strategy is to distract the bad guys by showing as much flesh as possible.”
James burst out laughing, and Karen began to relax. The conversation was beginning to flow nicely, and he seemed to be becoming more comfortable. Either that or he was enjoying the thought of superheroines in skintight spandex.
“I almost met one once,” she confessed. “I was walking to work when the White Knight flew by, right in front of me. He was so close I could almost touch his cape. He’s the one that really fascinates me. He was the original, but how much do we really know about him?”
James smiled, apparently amused by her enthusiasm. “I must admit I do think it’s kind of nice, doing good deeds without any expectation of reward. Have you seen some of the newer heroes? They’re sponsored by so many companies that they’re practically walking billboards.”
Karen took another sip of her wine, considering his words. “Maybe you’re right, but I think if I were going to put myself in danger every day then I’d want at least a little recognition. The White Knight barely stays around long enough for a goodbye hug before he has to…”
When she saw James discard his napkin and get up from his chair, her first thought was that he was teasing her, mimicking her description of a speedy exit. Then she saw the apologetic look on his face and realization dawned.
“Oh, come on, you can’t be serious! What are you leaving for this time? If you go now, you’ll probably miss the main course as well.” She fixed him with her best penetrating stare, the wine emboldening her and allowing her to give full vent to her frustration.
James hopped from foot to foot, exuding awkwardness. “I know, I know, I’m really sorry. I just feel a little queasy and need some fresh air. I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
“It’s probably just hunger pains!” she shouted to his retreating form as he ran toward the exit, not even bothering to conceal her irritation. So much for a normal guy. James Black was turning out to be memorable for all the wrong reasons.
Just then, she heard a polite cough behind her. Upon turning around, she was confronted with their waiter holding two main courses.
“Well, that’s just great,” Karen muttered to herself, doing her best to smile politely as the waiter placed her chicken in front of her and placed James’ steak in front of the empty seat.
“I am here with someone,” she protested. “He’s just had to pop outside for a moment.”
The waiter gave an exaggerated nod, as if to assure her that he had never doubted it for a second, and had certainly never suspected she was a crazy lady who enjoyed dining with imaginary boyfriends.
“He’s got a sore stomach you see, and he’s just—”
“Perhaps if he tried the food, Madam, that might assist with his stomach problem?”
Karen felt herself spiraling down the rabbit hole and closed her eyes. “There is one thing that you can do for me.”
“Of course, Madam, how may I assist you?”
“Bring another bottle of wine.”
The second bottle was almost half-empty when James returned, hurrying through the restaurant as he fumbled with his shirt buttons. He pulled out the chair and sat down, spreading his arms wide.
“I’m so sorry I was away so long. I wasn’t feeling well, and I suppose I lost track of time.”
“Oh, you lost track of time, did you?” Karen exclaimed. “I never noticed.” She looked down at the table and gave an exaggerated gasp of realization. “Oh my goodness, I’ve finished my main course and drank my body weight in wine! That must mean that you’ve been away for bloody ages!”
James blushed beetroot as her gaze bore into him, and his embarrassment only deepened as he registered the steak set before him, the hot plate no longer sizzling, and the mushrooms cold and lifeless.
“I am sorry. I know it hasn’t been the night we planned but we can still—”
“Still what?” Karen laughed. “Still order dessert so you can leave me by myself again? You do know that half the waiters in this place probably think I’m crazy!”
A number of heads turned to look their way, and James moved closer, attempting to placate her. It failed to have the desired effect.
“Is that smoke I smell on you? It is, you reek of it! An upset stomach you said. Did you leave me here just so you could sneak off for a sly cigarette like some fifteen-year-old boy?”
Karen could feel her anger building. Tonight was supposed to be different. James was supposed to be different. But all that she’d found was yet more lies. She was so tired with men and their constant inability to be honest with her.
“I was
n’t smoking. There was someone else outside who was. I think he must have been waiting for someone.”
It was just a small thing, a slight flicker of the eyes, but Karen knew that he was lying. Had he been going for a smoke? To meet another woman? In truth, she was almost too tired to care about the exact reasons. What hurt was that he wasn’t being honest.
Lost in her thoughts, she’d hardly noticed the sound of James clearing his throat, trying to get her attention. If he’d looked sheepish before, then he looked even more so now, positively squirming in his seat. She knew what he was going to say before he even voiced the words.
“No, don’t even think about it—you’re not going.”
“You don’t understand. I’m so sorry, but I do need to go.” He placed his hands on the table and began to rise from the seat, oblivious to Karen’s protests. Frustrated and enraged, she reached out and grabbed his shirt, pulling him back into his seat with all her strength. Caught off guard, he landed back in his chair with a thud, looking at her with an expression of comical surprise.
Karen was equally blindsided, but for an entirely different reason. Where she had grabbed James’ shirt, the buttons had come loose, exposing the material underneath. Clearly visible was part of an all too familiar logo—that of the White Knight.
She sat there, staring, her muddled thoughts trying to make sense of this unexpected turn of events.
James spotted her gaze and looked down at his unkempt shirt. With a muttered exclamation, he hurriedly did up the buttons before turning his attention to Karen.
“Okay, you’ve got me,” he admitted. “I’m a White Knight fanboy, what can I say?”
He was a fanboy, of course. He probably lived in his parents’ basement surrounded by comics. And yet… it hadn’t looked like a t-shirt or a cheap imitation—it had looked real. And the excuses… the constant disappearances… Could it be? What outcome would she prefer?
“James, if that even is your real name. I’ve been lied to and let down so many times. If you say you’re just a fan, then I’ll believe you but please, have the decency to be honest with me.”
He stared at her for a long time and for a moment it seemed as if there was no one in the restaurant apart from them, nothing else ongoing apart from their own private drama. Their eyes remained locked until eventually, with a weary smile, he looked at the table, resting his head on his hands. Karen remained silent, not wanting to push him into a decision.
When he raised his head, there was something different about him—a newfound determination, a sense of confidence that hadn’t been there before. “You’re right, Karen, I should be honest with you. You deserve to know the real me.”
With these words, he took hold of his glasses and moved them down his nose, until he was looking over the top of them toward her. No, Karen realized, that wasn’t quite right. James Black wasn’t looking at her—the White Knight was. Freed from the glasses, his eyes seemed to take on new life—brighter and more penetrating, as if they could see into her soul.
He slid the frames back up his nose and looked at her, waiting for a response. In truth, she didn’t know what to say. She had been drinking way too much, and perhaps her imagination was playing tricks on her. In the cold light of day, she might realize that all she had really seen was an old t-shirt and a Paddington Bear hard stare.
“If you’re… him… then is there anything you can show me to prove it? Anything that you can do?”
He was silent for a second, seemingly considering his next move. “My steak is cold,” he eventually declared. “I prefer it hot.”
He lowered his glasses down his nose and stared at his steak, seemingly examining it closely. Karen watched with interest. What did he think he was going to do? Warm it through the power of positive thinking?
But then before her eyes, the hot plate began to sizzle, and she smelled the intoxicating aroma of cooked steak. James continued to stare at the dish until the steak was sizzling and popping, with the depleted mushrooms growing ever smaller.
He replaced his glasses and leaned forward toward her. “Heat vision,” he whispered. “Never leave home without it.” He looked down at the sizzling hotplate, a small cloud of steam rising into the air above it, and smiled. “I think I got a bit carried away there. It’s a good thing I like well-done steak.”
Karen felt her head beginning to spin as she tried to comprehend what was happening here. She had thought James might have a secret but never in her wildest flights of fantasy could she have imagined this. A small part of her wondered whether she was dreaming—if the wine she had consumed in James’ absence had left her face-down on the table, snoring gently as waiters pointed and laughed at her half-prone form.
“So now you understand why I have to go,” James interjected, interrupting her thoughts. “I don’t want to leave you, but I have to help people that are in trouble.”
“Of course you do,” laughed Karen, her laugh sounding a touch too hysterical for her liking. “That’s what superheroes do, right? So go and save someone!”
He gave her a grateful smile and stood up. “Thanks. And I promise, when I come back we can have a proper talk about this.”
She hardly noticed him leave, so caught up was she in the myriad images playing within her head. When a waiter arrived at her side, obviously anticipating a request for more wine, she declined. She wanted a clear head for what was going to happen next.
When James finally returned, Karen was onto her second cup of coffee, and the remaining customers in the restaurant were now outnumbered by empty tables. As he resumed his seat, Karen couldn’t miss the flash of pain briefly visible on his face.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concerned. Could superheroes even get hurt? Was that a thing?
“I’ll be fine,” he replied with a forced smile. “Occupational hazard.”
“I didn’t realize you could get hurt. With what you can do… I guess I thought nothing could faze you.”
“That would be nice,” he smiled. “But I’m flesh and blood like you. I’m no man of steel.”
They sat in silence for a minute, acutely conscious of the distance that had grown between them. Karen was the first to break.
“I’m sorry, but this is just too crazy. You’re a superhero! You could go anywhere—do anything. Why are you here with me? It’s pretty obvious you have other things that you could be doing.”
James took a look around and after satisfying himself that no one was paying attention to their conversation, moved closer, gesturing for her to do the same.
“Because I’m selfish,” he admitted. “Because I spend my whole life saving others and trying to make their lives better. I just wanted a night where I could be me.” He picked up his water and gently shook the glass, watching as the liquid sloshed from side to side.
“The only problem is I’m not quite sure who that is anymore. I spend so long playing the part of the White Knight that sometimes I think that’s all there is. That it’s actually James Black who is the lie.”
Karen’s head was throbbing, and she was now firmly regretting the amount of wine she’d consumed. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Are you saying you don’t enjoy being a superhero? Most people would give anything to do what you can do.”
James took some time to answer, a wistful expression on his face as he considered his answer. “I love it,” he eventually volunteered. “But in doing this, I can’t pick and choose—I can’t favor one person over another—I have to help everyone. I—”
He stopped mid-sentence and put his hand to his temples. “Oh, come on” he muttered. “I’ll be right back,” he told her, before tracing his familiar route out of the restaurant.
She watched him go and wondered what the reason could possibly be this time. A bank robbery around the corner? A kid whose lunch money had been stolen? An old lady who needed help crossing the street? She laughed out loud at the mental image, and the waiters broke off from their conversation to turn in her direction, obviously wishi
ng she would just call it a night and head home.
“I’m having a lovely time,” she called over sweetly. “You have a wonderful restaurant.”
A few minutes later, James returned, and if he noticed the waiters’ sullen gazes as he returned to their table, then he showed no sign. “I know what you’re going to ask,” he told Karen. “It was a cat stuck up a tree.”
“My hero,” she laughed, and when James joined in, the restaurant staff began to talk among themselves, their hand gestures growing ever more animated.
“Okay, here’s the thing,” asked Karen. “I get that you want more in your life than being a superhero, and it’s pretty darn clear that you’re in desperate need of a night off. But what I don’t understand is why here and why me? I’ve seen some of the women you work with and… well, they’re certainly not shy about exposing their attributes.”
She’d spent the time alone debating whether to ask the question and satisfy her curiosity. The risk was that he’d burnt through all the superpowered hotties and was now slumming it, or even worse, had just picked her by sheer chance. Whatever the reason, she’d rather know.
“You’ve heard the saying that you should never date a co-worker, right? Besides, just between you and me, some of these women are pretty darn scary.”
His expression grew more serious, and he reached out and took her hand. For someone who had been in so many fights it was surprisingly soft, his grip almost gentle.
“As for why I wanted to meet you, there’s no big secret or hidden agenda. You seemed nice and genuine, as well as really pretty, of course.”
She was taken off guard by the unexpected compliment, the night’s strange events having almost made her forget that this was meant to be a date.
“It’s certainly been an interesting night,” she replied, unsure how to respond. “I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself?”
“You know I have, it’s been—” He trailed off and looked into the distance a look of concentration on his face. When he turned toward her, she interrupted before he even had the chance to speak. “Just go,” she told him, ushering him toward the door “I’m not going anywhere.”
Somebody, Save Me! Page 17