A Dad in a Cape (Mr Wonder Book 1)

by Sean Stansell

  Chuck stared flatly at Mickey, trying to wrap his mind around that. “Holy shit. We’re going to need a bigger fire.”

  “I don’t see why I can’t just fire up the grill, stick the cape on it, then go see how full my tank is,” Chuck said, pedaling the exercise bike at a medium pace. He’d been going at that pace for nearly an hour, and hadn’t broken a sweat. “Or, at the very least, why I can’t crank up the speed on this thing.”

  “You have a shitty memory, Chuck,” Mickey said, not bothering to look up from the Parents Monthly magazine he was reading. “Did you know you’re supposed to give babies peanut butter now? When Sarah was a baby you weren’t supposed to get it within 50 yards of them, lest the poor kids swell up like a Thanksgiving parade balloon. Damn scientists can never make up their minds.”

  Chuck kept peddling. “My memory is just fine.”

  Mickey lowered the magazine. “No, it’s not. You keep forgetting the one rule I made when I agreed to train you. One fucking rule, Chuck. If you can’t remember one rule, your memory stinks. Now, keep pedaling, at that speed. And let me know when you get tired.”

  “You’re going to need more magazines. I’m pretty sure the bike is going to give out before I do. It’s more accustomed to holding up doll clothes and wet laundry than actually being ridden.” Penny had set the basement up with exercise equipment after Riley was born, to help both of them lose the weight they had gained during the pregnancy. And it had worked, at first. But when Paxton came along, time and energy had dried up.

  “I’ve got all day. And this beats the mall. Any idea what a bento box is, and why you would make one for your kid’s lunch? Are kids these days too good for a PB&J?”

  “The kids are fine, it’s the parents. One over-achiever Pinterest mom makes her kid some organic kosher mini quiches, and puts it on Facebook. Then the other moms feel guilty, and the next thing you know, kids have vegan lunch kabobs, gluten free avocado puffs, and handcrafted, paleo-friendly, heirloom fluffernutters — made ironically of course — and the kids are stealing money from the parents’ wallets to buy cafeteria tater tots.”

  Mickey chuckled and took a sip of the beer on the coffee table in front of him. “Emily went through a phase where she made a different variation of PB&J every day of the week. Different jellies. Different breads. Honey one day. Bananas the next. Finally, Sarah asked her if she could just have regular bread, peanut butter, and grape jelly. Every day.”

  He finished the beer with a long gulp. “Sometimes we get so caught up thinking about what we want our kids to want, that we forget to ask them what they actually want. I’m pretty sure that’s one part of being a parent that will never change. You keep pedaling, I’m going to get another beer.”

  Chuck started to ask him for a bottle of water, but he was already up the stairs.

  “You’re going to do what?” Chuck was sure he’d misheard.

  “I’m going to punch you. In the stomach,” Mickey said. “Hard.”

  “And why are you going to—“ Chuck crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath.

  “One rule, Chuck,” Mickey said, reaching down to help Chuck up.

  Chuck saw Mickey’s outstretched hand, but made no attempt to grab it.

  “C’mon Chuck, take my hand.”

  “Fuck…you…Mickey,” Chuck said, struggling to pull himself up.

  “See, the problem with your generation is you never learned to respect your elders. There’s a lot to be learned from—“ Mickey paused to dodge an awkward punch, and to counter with a quick left hook to the midsection. Chuck crumpled to the ground again. “There’s a lot to be learned from people who have more life experience than you. For example, don’t telegraph your punches, and don’t leave your gut exposed when you throw a punch.”

  Chuck groaned and rolled on the floor.

  “I have to say though, I’m impressed you got up so fast. You’ve got moxie. Your fighting technique is shit, but we can fix that.” He extended his hand once more. “Now come on, get up, and let me explain what we’re doing.”

  Chuck grabbed Mickey’s hand, but instead of letting the older man pull him up, he yanked Mickey down to the ground, and moved to jump on top of him. But, as quick as Chuck felt, Mickey was quicker. Before Chuck could process what was happening, Mickey had climbed onto his back, arms wrapped around Chuck’s head and neck.

  “You’ve got spirit, kid,” Mickey said. “Stupid as hell, but a ton of spirit.”

  “Never been accused of being stupid before.” Chuck’s vision started to go soft around the edges.

  “You attacked me, twice. Me, a career hero. One who has been in more fights than you’ve probably seen in the movies. One whose power you don’t even know, because you never bothered to ask. You get a little juice in you, which you don’t even know how to use, and you think you’re invincible. Newsflash, asshole. You’re not.”

  Chuck tried to think of a snappy comeback, but realized falling asleep was much easier.

  “Ow,” Chuck said, rubbing his jaw, feeling for a welt but finding none. “What the hell was that for? And where am I?”

  “That little love tap was just to wake you up,” Mickey said, looking down at Chuck laying on the floor. “And you’re in your basement. Do you remember what happened?”

  “I remember you kicking my ass, then some kind of speech. Then nothing.”

  “Good enough. I think it’s time you and me had a little heart to heart about what we’re doing here. Why do you want to be a hero, Chuck?”

  Chuck sat up. He took a minute to try and clear his head, and to consider just how often he’d been drunk or unconscious over the past week. “I want to help people, I guess.”

  “You guess? Bullshit. Try again.”

  “Excuse me? You think you know why I’m doing this?” Chuck asked, his voice rising as he spoke. “You’ve known me for a few days, and you think you know what makes me tick?”

  He stood up and walked toward the stairs. “Screw you, Mickey. We’re done for the day.”

  Mickey shook his head and sighed. “You’re bored, Chuck. You’re a selfish prick who only cares about breaking free from your mundane life,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “You only care about yourself. About doing something besides commuting every day to a job you hate. About spending weekends doing something besides yard work and chasing kids around the mall. You only care about feeling like you’re important. You don’t care about helping people. You don’t even really care that you’re putting your family in danger, or about how putting yourself in danger could impact them. No, Chuck, you don’t want to help people. You want to help yourself. So go ahead and quit. Getting in this for the wrong reasons is only going to hurt you and everyone you love.”

  Chuck continued up the stairs. “Nice speech. I trust you can see yourself out. Have a nice life Mickey.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Come on, you can do this. Just focus,” Chuck said, psyching himself up for another attempt. He took a slow, deep breath, exhaled, and focused his attention on the Frosted Vanilla Bean vegan soy candle in front of him. He gave Penny a hard time every time she came home with one of these snooty candles. Now he was happy to have a few around to practice on. He gently pointed his index finger at the wick and visualized a flame appearing at the end of it. Nothing happened. Just like the previous eleven attempts. He slumped his shoulders and sighed.

  “Daddy Daddy Daddy! I missed you Daddy!” Riley’s voice hit the pitch only piccolos, car brakes, and little girls can hit as she ran into kitchen.

  Damn, is it that late already? “Hiya, sweetie pie,” he said, scooping her up into his arms. He spun her around in circles, eliciting an uncontrollable burst of giggles from the little girl. Putting her down, he asked, “How was school today?”

  “Good. I let Sophie borrow my socks because hers got wet.”

  “That was very sweet of you, Riles. Not sure you should let other people borrow your socks though.”

  “It’s ok Daddy,” Riley
said, opening the refrigerator. “She gived them back to me”.

  “Not really the point, kiddo, but that’s good. Where’s your mommy and brother?”

  Riley sat on the floor and began ripping into a string cheese package, grunting and grimacing with effort.

  “Need help sweetie?”

  “No, I can do it.” She pulled. She tugged. She twisted.

  “You sure you don’t want me to get it started for you?”

  “No, go away. I wanna do it.” She bit the corner of the package and pulled, a tiny piece coming off in her mouth. She spit it on the floor. She tried to pull it with her fingers again, but they slipped off the wet plastic. “Aaargh!” She spiked the cheese on the floor. “I don’t like that cheese. I want carrots!”

  Chuck opened the fridge and rummaged around, pulling out baby carrots. He opened the bag, took a few out, and handed them to Riley. She threw them on the floor.

  “No, I want to get them out!” She collapsed on the floor in tears.

  “I see you’ve met Her Royal Highness, Princess Drama,” Penny said, walking into the kitchen.

  Chuck gave her a quick peck and smacked her butt. “No nap at school?”

  “Nope. And she’s been like this since I walked into her classroom. Meanwhile, this one fell asleep in the car and wouldn’t wake up.” She handed Paxton to Chuck.

  He chuckled at the confused and irritated expression on his son’s face. It never ceased to amaze him how expressive a tiny human could be. Pax blinked slowly and looked at Chuck like he was seeing him for the first time.

  “Hey little buddy, how was your day?”

  “BLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPP.” Paxton giggled as Chuck wiped the spit off his face.

  “Missed you too buddy.”

  With that Chuck slipped into the normal, hectic routine of a weeknight evening. Penny kept the kids occupied so he could make dinner. Riley staged a hunger strike over the number of baby carrots on her plate, and refused to eat anything until they were removed. Paxton grabbed a spoon full of puréed peas and managed to shoot it, catapult style, across the kitchen. It landed with a wet “SPLAT” on the microwave door and oozed down.

  Penny did the dishes while Chuck ran the kids around to drain their batteries. They played Tickle Monster, Bear Hunt, and a game Riley liked to call Tackle Pax (Pax called it “Giggle Giggle WHAAAAAAAH”). When they were all worn out, Chuck took Riley to bed, and Penny took Pax. An hour later, after two reported tummy aches (both Riley), four drinks of water (all Riley), two trips to the potty (both Riley), five screaming temper tantrums (three Pax, two Riley), three parent trade-offs, and one dodged conversation about how Ms. Laura at school got a baby stuck in her belly, both kids were sound asleep.

  Chuck would normally have been exhausted. But he felt peppy. He filled Penny in on the situation with Mickey, and solicited her help in continuing his training without him.

  “I still don’t get how you have a bunch of fire inside you,” Penny said, sipping a bowl-sized glass of red wine. “Doesn’t it burn you from inside?”

  “It’s not quite like that, as far as I can tell,” Chuck said, sipping water. After the recent string of benders, he was trying to take it easy. Besides, this was going to take concentration, and booze could only muddy that. “I have a bunch of energy, in the form of heat, that I absorbed from fire. It’s not fire anymore.”

  “So, you’re not hot?”

  “Cool as a cucumber.”

  “And that doesn’t strike you as odd?”

  Chuck thought for a second. “It probably should. But it feels pretty normal. Imagine if I asked you ‘Aren’t you hot? You’re 98 degrees inside’. You don’t feel hot, because that’s normal to you. Having a bunch of heat inside me just feels normal to me now.”

  “But I’m always 98 degrees,” Penny said, thinking out loud. “There’s always about the same amount of heat in me—“

  “Except when I get you between the sheets!” Chuck pointed both index fingers at her and pulled the triggers of his finger guns with his thumbs.

  Penny rolled her eyes. “Oh, right, how could I forget? You magnificent lust demon. My loins burn for you.” She took another sip of her wine. “But aside from when you fan the flames of my desire, I’ve always got about the same amount of heat. How much can you suck in and still stay cool? Hell, how much can you suck in at all?”

  “No clue. That’s a test for another day. Right now, I just want to try to get rid of it. Under control for a change.” He grabbed the Frosted Vanilla Bean vegan soy candle that had become his nemesis and sat it on the granite countertop. “The only time I’ve been able to feel the store of energy was when I meditated, and Mickey talked me through it. Can you talk me through some meditation?”

  “Yep, just one second,” she said, draining the rest of her wine. “I’m good.”

  Chuck sat on a stool at the counter and closed his eyes. He took a few deep breaths, and tried to clear his mind. “Ok, walk me through a session”.

  “I want you to focus on your breath,” Penny said, her voice soft and soothing. “Focus all of your attention on how the air feels going in and out of you. Feel your lungs expand and contract. Feel the air moving through your nose.”

  Chuck concentrated all of his attention on his breathing, paying attention to even the smallest sensations it brought. After a minute, he realized he was profoundly calm, in a deep, peaceful way he hadn’t felt in years. Powers or no powers, he needed to do this more.

  “Now I want you focus on the top of your head. How does it feel? Is there any tension there? Don’t try to fix it if there is. Just feel it, and move down to your face. How does it feel? Is your jaw clenched? Is your brow furrowed? Again, don’t change, just feel.”

  There was no tension in his head. No clenching of his jaw. No furrowing of his brow. Just relaxation.

  “Down to your shoulders. Are they sore? Tight? Notice, don’t change. Now your chest. Does anything feel tight? Is your breathing constricted?”

  Chuck’s shoulders were as loose as he could remember them ever being. And his breath was slow and easy.

  “Now your stomach. Are there butterflies? Indigestion?”

  He moved his attention down from his chest, and suddenly felt like the ground fell away below him. He was falling, being pulled down by an unseen force. This time, instead of snapping out of it, he maintained his concentration, and tried to describe the feeling in his mind.

  A gas tank might not have been a perfect metaphor, but it seemed close. He could feel edges to it, in the same way he could sense where his fingers were when his eyes were closed. It wasn’t infinite, but it was big. Really big. He guessed he could pack in a lot of energy without filling it up. What would happen when he filled it up?

  That thought sucked him out of his trance-like state. “Dammit, I lost it,” he said.

  “You had it? I thought you fell asleep on me. Once I got to your calves I realized you hadn’t moved a muscle in a while.”

  “No, I wasn’t sleeping. I found it, and managed to stay focused when I did. Enough to get a sense for how big my tank is.”

  “Big?”

  “Big.” He took a sip of water, trying to figure out how to articulate what he felt. “I could tell the heat from the lighter was there. But it was kind of like knowing there were a couple grains of rice left in an almost empty 50lb bag.”

  “Holy hell Chuck,” Penny said, getting up and pouring another glass of wine. “What would you do with all that energy? And where would you get it? What would happen if you filled it up? Or tried to over fill it?”

  “That last one is what snapped me out of it. I don’t know the answer to any of those questions. But I have to figure them out. For now, I just want to light this stupid candle.”

  “Any clue how to do that?”

  “I’ve got an idea. Best move away from it, just in case.” He fixed his gaze on the wick of the candle, and slowed his breathing. Still looking at the wick, he turned his attention inward, focusing on his stomach,
searching for that sinking feeling. When it came, it was less sudden than before. Less of a free fall, and more like sinking into a pool. He imagined a mental connection between the bottom of the pool and the wick. After a few moments, a tiny wisp of smoke started to unfurl from the top of the wick. After what seemed like an eternity, a tiny ember winked into existence. It caught, and delicate orange flame danced at the candle’s tip.

  The crash of a wine glass shattering on the floor jerked Chuck’s attention away, but the flame held steady. He looked over at Penny, who was slowly backing away from him, both hands clasped firmly over her mouth.

  “Penny, you ok?”

  She kept backing away, only stopping when she hit the counter.

  “Penny?”

  “Chuck?” She lowered her hands, crossing her arms into a firm self-hug.

  “Yeah?”

  “How did you do it? Some kind of novelty candle? Cheap magic shop chemical reaction?”

  “What Penny? You know—“

  “Infrared laser pointer? Hell, I’ll accept a giant magnifying glass hidden out of view. Charles Riley Nelson, how did you light that candle?”

  Chuck eased toward her, minding the broken glass, his arms outstretched. “You already know the answer. You saw the TV. I told you what happened at the mall.”

  She shook her head. “I still figured there was a rational explanation. There must be. People don’t go around lighting candles with their minds.”

  Chuck tried to wrap his arms around her, but she pulled away.

  “It’s just me, Pen,” he said, confused.

  She slid away from him, walking towards the stairs. “Can you clean this up, I’m suddenly not feeling well.” She picked up speed as she hit the stairs.

  “Um, sure,” Chuck stammered, but she was already halfway up the stairs.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “In issue 75 he generates a wall of electricity to use as a shield.” Andromeda paused to consider the technique, pondering ways to counter it if the need arose. “Do you think our guy has figured that out?”