by Lucas Flint
The knowledge that everyone was home today should have reassured me, but it didn’t. A part of me was paranoid that this was all an elaborate trick on the part of Sasha, that maybe she had already killed my family and had set it up so I wouldn’t know it until I opened the door and found their decapitated corpses in the hallway. It was an illogical worry to have, perhaps, but no one ever said that emotions were always perfectly logical.
When I reached the front door, I didn’t hesitate. I just opened the door and stepped into the hallway like I always did whenever I got off work, shouting, “Mom! Dad! I’m home!”
At first, the house was silent, which made me think that my worst fears had come true, that Takeshi had lied to me and had already murdered everyone, and that I had gotten here just in time to find their bodies.
But then I heard voices coming from the living room, and it didn’t sound like voices coming from the TV, either, but real voices from real people. Curious, I walked over to the living room entrance and peered through the doorway to see who was here.
Mom and Dad were sitting on the sofa, Dad holding a cup of steaming hot coffee, while Mom had her tea. Sitting cross-legged on the floor in a way that made him look cool was James, who was the center of attention, talking animatedly about something that happened at his college recently.
But the most unexpected person in the living room was none other than Greta Hammond, my girlfriend. She sat in the recliner, her own cup of tea in her hands, listening with interest to James’ story. Listening with perhaps a little too much interest, if you ask me; I mean, I know Greta is a sweet, polite girl, but the way she was looking at James now, you’d think she didn’t already have a boyfriend, namely, me.
“…And so I said to my professor, ‘Of course that’s not the real Rubberman, because the real Rubberman is rubber, not metal,’” James finished. “And I bet you already know what my professor had to say about that.”
“He asked you to leave his classroom, right?” said Greta, who sounded very amused by James’ story.
“He told me he’d fail me if I didn’t keep my mouth shut,” James said with a chuckle. “Luckily, I managed to convince him that—”
“Uh, hello?” I said, raising my voice slightly to be heard. “Hi?”
Everyone suddenly looked toward me, though it was Mom who lowered her tea and said, “Alex, I am so glad to see you! What are you doing out of the hospital so soon? I thought Rubberman said you wouldn’t be released for another few days.”
I shrugged and then winced at the pain that caused my shoulder. “Eh, what can I say? I recovered faster than the doctors thought I would, so they let me out early. I didn’t call you guys ahead of time, though, because I wanted my visit to be a surprise.”
“That’s an understatement,” said Dad. “But it’s good to see you home nonetheless, Alex. We were all extremely worried there when we heard about what happened to you during that battle with those vigilante fellows.”
“Extremely worried,” James agreed, nodding. “I almost thought about putting on my old Lightning Fist costume to go and help, but I figured you had it under control, because you’re such a professional sidekick now.”
I couldn’t tell if James was being sarcastic or if he was genuinely complimenting me. Knowing him, it could have easily been both at the same time.
But then I noticed that Greta had not said a word to me. She was looking at me with everyone else, but she looked a little anxious, as if she was dreading talking to me about something. Maybe the tea didn’t settle well with her or maybe that was just how she expressed her worry for me, but I doubted it.
“Well, I’m okay now, although Rubberman wants me to take a few days off work to let my shoulder recover completely,” I said. “Not a big deal.”
“That’s cool how your boss lets you take a few days off from war,” said James, turning to face me, though he didn’t get off from the floor. “Bet you feel like a real soldier now, huh?”
“James,” said Mom, frowning. “This isn’t a war.”
“But that’s what all the news outlets are calling it,” James said. “They’ve named it the First War, because it’s the first war between superheroes that’s ever happened in history. I think it’s pretty cool.”
Dad snorted. “Perhaps a turf war or maybe a gang war, but not a real war like the kind your grandfather fought in back in Nam, that’s for sure. It’s just the media trying to sensationalize things again. Not like both sides have very many ‘soldiers.’”
“They have enough to cause the mayor to declare a state of emergency, though,” said James. He looked up at me with his usual cheeky grin. “Come on, Alex. You’re right in the middle of it. What do you think it is?”
I really didn’t want to talk about the conflict between the Vigilante Legion and Heroes United, so I was grateful when Greta spoke up, saying, “Uh, Alex, can I speak with you in private for a moment?”
I looked at Greta in surprise. “Uh, sure, Greta, but can I ask what you’re doing here in the first place? Not that I’m angry or anything, but I just didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“She wanted to see you,” said Dad, nodding at Greta. “She heard about how you got injured during the battle with the Legion, so she came here as soon as she could. But when it turned out you were at the hospital and weren’t accepting visitors, we invited her to stay and have lunch with us.”
“She’s a real sweet girl, Alex,” said Mom, smiling at Greta. “Raised very well. I can tell that she has great parents just by how polite and kind she is.”
“Parent,” Greta corrected. “I only have my dad. My mom died a long time ago.”
“Oh,” said Mom, who stopped smiling. “I’m sorry, Greta, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s fine, Mrs. Fry,” said Greta, giving Mom one of her usual sweet smiles. “I didn’t know my mom very well, but she was a good woman and a good mother. I still learned a lot from her and my dad always says I act just like her, so you’re not wrong when you say that I am the way I am because of my parents.”
As usual, Greta was her normal sweet, polite self, but at the same time, I could tell that the mentioning of her parents was part of the reason she was here at all. Most likely, it tied into what she wanted to talk with me about, and I had a feeling that it wasn’t exactly good news about her dad, either.
“Well, Greta, we can go up to my room and talk,” I said. “I was just about to head up there anyway.”
“Good idea,” said James. “Mom, Dad, and I will leave you two lovebirds alone. Just don’t get up to any shenanigans while you’re up there alone, okay?”
James winked at me when he said that. I thought about blasting him in the face with my lasers—it would surely make him shut up—but decided to just ignore his stupid comments. I turned and left the living room, with Greta (who had put down her teacup on the coffee table) by my side. We didn’t say much to each other, however, until we were inside my room and I had closed the door behind us.
Then I turned to face Greta, who stood in front of my bed with her arms folded over her chest. Even though I had no intention of actually, well, ‘doing’ anything with her, as James would put it, I couldn’t help but feel a little excited to be alone in my room with a girl. It was the first time I’d ever been alone with Greta; well, okay, not the first time, but certainly the first time in my room, anyway.
“So, Greta, what did you want to talk about?” I said as I deposited my backpack on the floor. “And why do we have to talk about it in private?”
Greta didn’t answer at first. She looked upset; not quite close to tears, but definitely unhappy. She just looked at her feet for a couple of seconds before looking up at me and saying, “It’s my father. You remember him, right?”
I nodded. Greta’s father was a world famous thief known as the Silent Shadow. I’d only met him a few times, mostly due to the fact that his ‘job’ took him out of town so regularly, but I remembered how big and imposing he was. He was the kind of m
an you never forgot, especially if you were dating his one and only daughter who he cared about a lot.
“What about him?” I said. “Is he doing okay?”
Greta again didn’t answer right away. She seemed to be close to crying, but was trying to hold in her tears and not cry.
“My dad …” Greta stopped speaking, as if to gather her composure, and then finally said, “He doesn’t want us dating anymore.”
CHAPTER SIX
If I had been holding my backpack, I probably would have dropped it onto the floor at that moment.
As it was, all I could do was stare at Greta in shock. “Did you say that your father doesn’t want you dating me anymore?”
Greta nodded. She looked very, very close to crying, but so far had somehow managed to keep her tears from flowing. “Y-Yes. My father says he doesn’t want me to date you anymore. He almost forbid me from seeing you at all, but he gave me permission to tell you this in person. He originally wanted me to just call you and let you know about this decision of his, but I managed to convince him to let me tell you in person like this.”
I shoved my backpack off my chair and sat down, rubbing my forehead. “This … this …”
“I’m sorry,” said Greta with a slight sniffle. “I tried to reason with him, but my dad is a strong man and he always has the final say.”
I looked up at Greta, feeling slightly dazed. “Why? Why does he not want you to date me anymore?”
Greta picked at the floor with the tip of her shoe. “He found out who you are. He told me to stop dating you because he didn’t want you finding out who he is and reporting him to the police.”
I froze. “Wait, he knows I’m Beams?”
Greta nodded. “Yes.”
“How did he find that out? Did you tell him?”
My tone became unexpectedly sharp when I said that, surprising even me. I didn’t mean to sound mean, but I was so angry that I couldn’t help it.
Greta actually flinched at my tone, even though I didn’t raise a hand against her or act threatening in any other way. “No, no, of course not. Your secrets are always safe with me, Alex, you know that. I’d rather die than break your trust by telling everyone your secrets.”
“Then how did he find out my identity? Who told him?”
“I don’t know. He just said that he received proof from someone he knows that you are Beams a couple of days ago. He confronted me about it, asked if I knew the whole time, and I … Beams, I confessed it all. You know how I can’t lie to my dad’s face, at least when he’s directly confronting me about something.”
As angry as I was, I also felt sorry for Greta. Tears were starting to stream down her cheeks and she put in only the most perfunctory efforts to wipe them away. I could tell that she hadn’t meant anything bad by confirming my identity to her father, which made it hard to stay angry with her.
I rose from my chair and walked over to her. Greta looked afraid, as if I was going to hit her or something, but instead I hugged her. She made a surprised but pleased little sound before wrapping her arms around my back. I felt her tears on the side of her face and her trembling form under my arms.
“It’s fine,” I said in a soothing voice. “There’s no need to cry. I’m not angry with you.”
I really wasn’t, at least anymore. Getting angry at her wouldn’t be helpful, even though, in some way, I still wanted to feel angry anyway. Greta just buried her face in my neck and mumbled, “Thanks, Alex.”
We stood like that for a little while longer, holding each other in our arms, but once Greta calmed down enough, I let go of her and stepped back. Greta’s arms came off my back, but there was a slight resistance, like she didn’t want to stop hugging me. I understood, because I didn’t want to stop hugging her, either, even though I knew that I needed to.
Greta was no longer crying; however, her face was still wet with tears. She stood there with her arms folded in front of her, trembling slightly, but I didn’t think she was in danger of crying again.
“Well,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “Maybe you should go now, unless you’ve got something else to tell me.”
Greta blinked in surprise. “Wait, you aren’t going to ask me anything else?”
“What else is there to ask?” I asked. “You told me everything I need to know. Not like there’s anything I can do to convince your dad to let us keep dating.”
Greta didn’t argue that point, perhaps because she knew from experience how stubborn her dad could be. “Yeah, I guess so. Still, I thought we were going to have a longer conversation about this. This just seems so abrupt.”
I shrugged. “Like I said, it’s fine. This might even be for the best.”
“The best? What—?’
“I don’t like this anymore than you do, but that doesn’t mean nothing good can’t come out of this. Best to look on the bright side of things, eh?”
Greta looked a little lost, but she apparently didn’t feel the need to argue, because she nodded and said, “I guess so. I just don’t see the bright side of this.”
“Sometimes, you don’t see the bright side of trouble until later on,” I said. “That’s something my dad told me once.”
“Your dad is wise,” said Greta. She hesitated. “Are you going to tell the police about me and my dad? Because if you are—”
I shook my head. “No. I promised to keep your secret safe and I will do it. Maybe we’re not dating anymore, but we can still protect each other, right?”
That, of course, wasn’t the only reason I had no intention of taking this to the police. I was too busy thinking about my own crime that I had promised to commit to think about turning anyone else in, especially Greta and her dad. I did feel a little guilty about it, but at the same time, I told myself that it wasn’t that big of a deal, especially in comparison to everything else going on in Golden City.
Greta smiled a little when I said that. “Thanks, Alex. I guess I’ll leave now. I told my dad I wouldn’t be gone long and I don’t want him to come here himself to drag me back home.”
The thought of Greta’s giant of a dad meeting my own normal-sized dad was both amusing and terrifying, so I stepped aside and said, “All right. Guess I’ll see you … whenever.”
Greta nodded. She walked toward the door, but before she left, she turned and kissed me full on the lips. She put her arms around me again and I did the same, the two of us sharing the deepest kiss I’d ever shared with a girl before.
It seemed to last an eternity, but then it was over an instant, Greta let go of me, and she was gone, closing the door behind her. I just stood there, still feeling her soft lips on mine, listening as she walked down the staircase, opened the front door, and left the house.
As soon as I heard the front door close below, I sat down at the foot of my bed. My face sank into my hands and I wanted to scream, but I didn’t.
Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. It seemed like everything in my life was going to hell, and it wasn’t even the fault of the Vigilante Legion. First, I was too injured to fight; second, I was blackmailed into agreeing to assassinate Rubberman; and now, my girlfriend broke up with me because her dad found out who I was. I suspected that Sasha was somehow behind Greta’s dad finding out who I was, but whether or not she had anything to do with it, all I knew was that Greta was no longer my girlfriend and there was nothing I could do to change that.
The bright side of me said that this might not be so bad, because if Greta wasn’t my girlfriend anymore, then Sasha couldn’t threaten her life to blackmail me. But the darker side of me said that it didn’t matter if I was dating her or not, because I still cared for her, still had feelings for her, and as long as I did, Sasha would always be able to use Greta as a bargaining tool to manipulate me.
I now understood what Rubberman meant when he said that he still had feelings for the Necromantress despite their divorce. I wondered if this was how Rubberman felt all the time or if his own feelings toward her ever went down over time. W
ould I always feel this heartbroken over Greta? Or would I forget about her eventually and find a new girl? That didn’t seem likely to me. The hole that now existed in my heart seemed too big for any girl other than Greta to fill. I wondered how James managed to get a new girlfriend all the time; didn’t he ever have to deal with these feelings, too, or was that just another area where James was better than me?
My thoughts were interrupted by my phone ringing. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw that Rubberman was calling me. For a moment, I considered canceling his call, because just seeing Rubberman’s contact picture made me depressed, because it was a reminder of the terrible situation I’d found myself in.
But it was just a moment. Then I raised the phone up to my ear and said, “Hey, boss, what’s up?”
“Beams!” said Rubberman in a cheerful voice that grated against my ears like fingernails on a chalkboard. “Glad you answered your phone! I had found out from the doctor that you had been released from the hospital early. They told me you went home, but you didn’t call me.”
“Sorry,” I said, and even I was aware of how bland my voice sounded. “I was just in such a hurry to get home that I forgot to call you and let you know that I went home. I didn’t think it would matter.”
“That’s fine,” said Rubberman. “I don’t hold it against you at all. Wanting to go home after being stuck in the hospital for a day or two is perfectly natural. I’m just glad to know that you are safe and that your injury is healing so speedily.”
“I know,” I said. “But the doc says that I should rest. He doesn’t want me fighting for a few days at least, so I’m just going to rest in my home for a few days until my shoulder is better.”