Super

by Jones, Princess

  “Did you get that money I put under your door yesterday?”

  “The $100?” He said it like I’d offered him a couple of quarters. “Yes, I got it. You owe a lot more, though.”

  “Yeah. I know. I’m going to catch up on that ASAP. I’m working on it, I swear.”

  “If you don’t have it by the time the sheriff gets here, you have to leave.”

  I nodded my head and winced. I closed the door and slid down against it, to the floor. Crash cut his eyes at me as if to say he needed me to get it together.

  “Oh really? Well if you think you can do better than I can, why don’t you get a job? Those fish flakes aren’t free, you know.” Crash swam in a couple more circles before going to hide in the castle in the center of his bowl. “And neither was that castle, buddy,” I yelled after him.

  Chapter 13

  My Super abilities were diagnosed pretty late. I was 13 before I had my appointment at the Council. But I knew what to expect because my sister had gone through it six years earlier. Of course, she was only 10 when she received her appointment. I was only seven at the time but I couldn’t see anything special about her. She just seemed like a know-it-all. When Mom and Dad took her to the Council for testing, the fact that she could use more of her brain capacity than any human possibly could was a surprise. But I stand by my assessment of know-it-allness with a big dose of annoying-the-fuck-outta-me.

  Even the way her name flashed on my phone’s caller ID on Sunday evening annoyed me. To be fair, I was already a little annoyed when the phone rang. I was busy distracting myself from my money problems with this date I’d been bamboozled into. And now I had to get ready for it. What hair, outfit, makeup combo could I put together to take as much attention away from that crater in my face as possible? I was tired of trying to figure it out. So, although I’d ignored her the first three times she’d called since the dinner disaster, I answered this time.

  “What?”

  “Is that how you answer the phone?”

  I groaned. “Oh my God, you and Mom should just go get some tattoos that say ‘Twinsies.’ You guys are so alike.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You would.” I paused to shake a little food into Crash’s bowl and blow him a kiss. He responded by not responding. That’s my type of relationship right there. “Is there some sort of purpose to this call or do you just feel like ruining my day?”

  “I wanted to call to say I’m sorry. About dinner the other night. I didn’t mean most of the things I said.”

  That was unlike her. I can’t remember a time she’d apologized for being a nutcase. “Okay.”

  There was a moment of silence and then she prodded “Don’t you want to say something, too?”

  “Nope.”

  “So you’re not sorry at all?” she asked again.

  I didn’t even have to think about it. “Nope.”

  “Okay, then fine. I’m not sorry, either.”

  I sighed. “You can’t repossess an apology, Ella. Once you say it, it’s out there. You can’t get it back.”

  “Yes, I can and I did.” I’d forgotten that Ella could be just as stubborn as I could be. It must run in the family.

  “Whatever, I don’t have time for this.” I needed to be at The Door in an hour. It was right up the street from my apartment but I still had to figure out what to do with this hair.

  She sneered. “As if you have something to actually do.”

  “I actually do. I have a date.” I wanted kicked myself as soon as I said it.

  She let out a burst of laughter. “No, really. What are you doing?”

  “Really. I have a date tonight. And he’s not on a diet.” I didn’t know if that was actually true but she didn’t know that.

  Ella ignored the passive aggressive jab. “Is this like that time you said you had a date to that dance and made up a whole person and went by yourself?”

  My face burned. “No! And just because you remember everything doesn’t mean you need to help us remember everything, too.”

  “Fine. But if you really have a date, do something with your hair.”

  Had Ella suddenly become psychic? How did she know I was worried about my hair? “What’s wrong with my hair?”

  “Nothing if you’re going for the frizzy poof ball look. You should get a blowout or something. It will make you look more put together.”

  I thought about how much the Dominicans up the street charged for a blow out. “Nah, I’m going au natural. It’s better that he see what I actually look like upfront. This way he can’t say that he got a raw deal later down the line.”

  “What about that pimple?” she asked. Now I was really worried. How did she know about the pimple? As if reading my mind, Ella added, “I could see it starting at dinner the other night.”

  “Is it really that bad?”

  “Yeah,” she replied without a second of hesitation. “Put some toothpaste on it to dry it out and then cover it with concealer.”

  “Sure,” I replied, even though I knew I didn’t have any concealer. Whether I had toothpaste was up in the air, too.

  “At least put on a dress. No jeans, okay?”

  I could see my closet from my futon. Didn’t look like there were any dresses in there. “Why? Is that how you meet all the boys? Is that how you got Rodney?”

  Ella sighed. “Rodney and I broke up. Happy?”

  “No.” I’d predicted it but suddenly I felt like an asshole. “Why would I be happy about that? It’s not like I wanted him to break up with you.”

  “Who says he broke up with me?!” she screeched.

  “I don’t know. I just assumed, I guess. Sheesh!”

  Her voice returned to normal. “Well, he didn’t. I broke up with him.”

  “Oh. Good for you then.”

  “Yeah, I just couldn’t deal with him anymore. He’s not very smart. Can you believe he asked me if I’d read all the books in my apartment or if I had them there to look smart?”

  I laughed. “Yeah, he was so stupid it hurt me to be around him. And I’m nowhere near as smart as you.”

  “Yeah.” At least she hadn’t suffered from any lack of self-esteem from this short-lived relationship. “I also got tired of him always asking me what the calorie count of stuff was. I mean, come on. Sure I can figure it out if I want to. I am a genius! But I don’t want to. Either you want the damn sandwich or you don’t.”

  “Exactly!” I laughed so hard I snorted. When I calmed down, I paused and said “Hey, Ella?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I am sorry about Rodney. About the stuff I said, too. I didn’t mean it. I think my blood sugar was low or something.” Or something.

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry I threw the cake.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I still got to have some.”

  “I know. Mom told me. She’s worried that you’re eating out of dumpsters now.”

  “I ate the part that didn’t touch the floor!” I yelled.

  “Sure. Just promise me that if something falls on the floor during your date, you’ll leave it there.”

  “I can’t promise anything,” I said, which was true. We said our goodbyes and hung up.

  “Hey,” I said to Crash over in his cage. “Ella just apologized to me. And then I apologized to her. Now I’m going on a blind date. Can you believe any of this?” Crash stared at me from behind the glass, which indicated that no, he couldn’t believe any of it.

  “What do you think about this pimple?”

  Crash paid very close attention to some random rocks in his bowl, which seemed to mean that he had been brought up not to say anything if he couldn’t say something nice.

  “Fuck you, Crash. I’m going out anyway.”

  Chapter 14

  After the phone call with Ella, I got serious about getting ready. As much as I wanted to take Ella’s advice, I really didn’t have the raw materials to do that. I had to work with what was on-hand. First, I had to do something
about my hair. I could leave it down but I’d probably look like I was auditioning for The Lion King about ten minutes into the date. I heard somewhere that a low bun could pass as sophisticated and went with that.

  As for the outfit, I actually did find a dress in my closet but it was from a funeral I went to a few years ago and not at all suitable for the amount of flirting that I expected to do that night. So I threw on a pair of skinny-ish jeans, a boob-y top, and a pair of heels that had served me well in the past.

  After I dressed, I leaned over the sink in the bathroom and peered into the mirror. For the most part, I could work with what I had. But that pimple was still sitting right where I’d left it last. It wasn’t red or oozing, though. Gotta be grateful for the small things. I shook my head at myself. “Listen, if a pimple is gonna scare him off, then so be it. I’ll just be home in time to watch reruns of The Golden Girls.” I slapped on some mascara and lip gloss and called it a day.

  Then, I straightened up my place just in case. We were going to a restaurant not far from my apartment. If the date went well, this would be the logical place for us to come back to. And we could save the judgment on my housekeeping skills until date number three.

  “Crash,” I said as I was gathering my purse, phone, and keys. “If I end up bringing home my date tonight, just go into your castle, and mind your business. You didn’t see anything.” He gave me a judgmental look that I ignored. I closed the door and locked up.

  ***

  “I tried to look you up before tonight,” Omar said.

  We were sitting in The Door, a popular Caribbean restaurant that served authentically delicious food. Part of the reason I’d even agreed to come was that I knew I was gonna get someone to pay for my ox tail dinner. We’d only been here long enough to meet out front, be seated, and order drinks, but I’d already admitted to myself that Mellie had great taste in men. Omar was tall, dark, and handsome. He reminded me of a Taye Diggs clone, complete with the megawatt smile. I found myself smiling back, even as he admitted to stalking me before showing up that night.

  I sipped the fruity rum concoction I’d ordered and responded to his confession. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. Mellie was really going on and on about you. And you weren’t calling me. So I had to find out who this mystery girl was.”

  “What did you find out?”

  He flashed me his smile. “I got nothing.”

  He sounded so disappointed that I actually laughed. “How hard did you try?”

  “Well, not that hard,” he admitted. “I’m friends with Mellie on Facebook and I tried to look you up on her page.”

  “I don’t have Facebook.”

  “What about Instagram?”

  “No.”

  “Twitter?”

  “Nope.”

  He chuckled. “What are you? Amish?”

  “No. I’m . . . private.”

  “I appreciate a little mystery, and now that I’m here, I’m not disappointed.”

  Ok, you’re definitely coming home with me tonight.

  We chatted a bit about how he knew Mellie (a friend of a friend of a friend) and what he did for a living (electrician). I tried to make my own life sound more interesting than it was without talking about the part that was actually interesting. I seemed to be doing a good job. And he didn’t seem to notice when I finally got tired of angling my face to him so he wouldn’t see the pimple.

  Eventually, I excused myself to the bathroom. I wanted to check on Mount Pimple-lopolus and text Mellie an update before the food came. Omar surprised me by standing when I excused myself. Apparently that’s what gentlemen do for ladies and this gentleman had mistaken me for lady. This date was going really, really well. I owed Mellie a few favors for this one.

  The bathroom was near the back of the restaurant. Heading in that direction, I passed a side door that was propped open for the bus boys hauling a delivery inside. I got a twinge of something as I walked past but I tried to ignore it. I was off duty and out of my district. If something was going on, it was someone else’s problem tonight.

  In the bathroom, under the harsh fluorescent light, I checked my face volcano. It seemed okay. I texted Mellie that I was having a really, really good time and then went into one of the stalls. By the time I came back out, Mellie had sent me several texts, mostly filled with, “I told you so’s” and little pictures of faces and objects. I understood the smugness but someone was gonna have to explain the pictures to me. I washed my hands and left.

  I passed the open side door again and the twinge was stronger this time. Almost involuntarily, I peeped out and saw what was setting off my internal alarms. Past the parking lot, a two-door compact and a huge freight truck had collided. The truck had minimal damage but the compact looked totaled. Traffic was piling up. A few people were out of their cars. I heard some shouting. I didn’t see any police or emergency personnel.

  I was walking through the door and toward the accident before I even realized what I was doing.

  I’ll just check out this out. If everything’s okay, I’ll turn right around and come right back, I told myself as I lifted the strap of my purse over my head and through one arm so it wouldn’t get in a way. Probably won’t take more than a minute.

  The closer I got, the worse it looked. The compact resembled a crushed beer can. A group of people stood in the intersection, looking on, talking amongst themselves. “Hey do you know if everyone is okay?” I asked the guy closest to me.

  “The guys in the truck are fine. They got out but there’s someone still in the car.”

  “Did someone call 911?” I asked. Someone said they had.

  “Ok then,” I said. “I’m gonna take a look.” Amid a chorus of protests, I walked over to the car. It was so crushed that its two doors were twisted shut and the windows were shattered. A woman sat in the driver’s seat, wedged into the wreckage and slumped over the wheel. She whimpered softly. She was alive.

  When she saw me next to the window, she moaned “Help me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and soaked in pain.

  I looked down at where her legs should be. The blood everywhere didn’t give me hope that they were still there. “What’s your name?”

  “Katie.” I could barely hear her.

  “Katie, it looks like you’re stuck in there, so I don’t think we should move you. But the ambulance is coming and those guys handle this stuff all the time. They’ll get you out with no problem.” I tried to sound confident but I knew I was failing.

  She began softly crying in earnest now. The tears flowed down her face and onto her shirt. In the distance, I heard the sirens. I pushed my arm through the busted window and grabbed her hand. “Look at me. Look at me,” I murmured. “You’re going to be okay. You hear those sirens? That’s the good guys coming to get you. You’re going to be okay.”

  She nodded slowly and lightly squeezed my hand back. I kept repeating she would be okay and she kept squeezing my hand. But the strength behind her squeezes got more and more faint. The ambulance pulled up right beside us and two EMTs jumped out. “Katie, they’re here. They’re here!”

  She didn’t answer. One of the EMTs told me to move aside and took my place at the window. I stepped back but didn’t go all the way to the sidewalk. A moment later, the EMT stepped back and said something to his partner, who shook his head.

  Even though I already knew the answer, I asked “Is she gonna be okay?” Both of them looked at me. One could only do it for a second before he turned his head and started talking into his shoulder radio. The other one just shook his head at me and asked me to step back on the sidewalk.

  And that’s the worst thing about being me. I’m not strong. I can’t fly. I can’t instantly heal another person. Sometimes I can’t do anything but wish I could give this thing away to someone who could use it more than I could.

  ***

  I don’t know how long it had been before I headed back to the restaurant. I pulled out my phone to check the time and saw that I
had two missed calls and four texts. The first text from Omar was a playful “What happened? Did you fall in?”

  The second was a concerned “Your food is getting cold. Are you alright?”

  Then “I’ve called you a couple of times and the hostess just checked the bathroom. Did you really just leave me here?”

  The last one was from Mellie. “What did you do????????”

  Chapter 15

  What we fail to realize when we’re kids running around with our blanket capes and paper crowns is that no matter how super you think you are, you just can’t save everyone. That’s something you realize when you’re actually deep into the job. At that point, you’ve already sworn your oath, made your bed, and now you have to sleep in it. It really fucks with you.

  On Monday, I went into the office with a headache. I should have called in sick but I had no sick days left and I couldn’t afford a light paycheck. Mondays are rough enough on their own but the thoughts knocking around in my head were making me nauseous. I was still queasy about the crash. It was the same feeling I got in the pit of my stomach when I have to ask my dad for yet another loan. I believe they call it “guilt.”

  And there was the Mellie and Omar situation. Both were mad. Neither were responding to my texts and calls. I’m not sure what I would have said anyway. I couldn’t tell the truth and I couldn’t come up with any decent lies. Anything I would have said would’ve been unbelievable. I didn’t think Mellie wanted to hear it anyway.

  That was confirmed when I walked through the office door and saw her sitting at her desk. She looked up for a moment and saw me. Then she rolled her eyes and directed her gaze back to the computer. I ignored her and made my way to my desk. I’d barely booted up my computer and raided my candy stash before one of the interns came running down the cubicle aisle practically screaming. “Mandatory meeting in the conference room right now! Everybody’s needed in the conference room right now!”