Superman's Cape (2 page)

“Can you help Jonnie?” There was a shudder in her voice.

“Can you help my boy?” she asked, thinking she may have sounded stronger.

It was Dr. Pada’s turn to look down. For him, that meant looking at his desk and the few sheets of paper that passed for medical forms. He cramped his face as he struggled with what to say. He shifted in his seat and shuffled the forms once and then shuffled them again. When he put them down, he looked up at the boys and then to Sara and told her, “I don’t have anything except to advise you.”

Sara felt her breath leave as she slumped in her chair. Any hope she brought with her was dashed. A moment passed and the Doctor added, “From my perspective it does look to be a psychological issue which is not uncommon after a traumatic experience. You mentioned something happened earlier in the year? May I ask what occurred – can you tell me more about it?”

With that, Dr. Pada settled back. He put his elbows on the chair’s armrest. He then lowered his chin as if expecting to hear a brief dissertation. He looked to Sara with eyes that listened. He wanted to hear the story. He wanted to surmise why Sara’s boy was withdrawing and shutting down. Why their lives had been turned upside down. She thought he might even want to know why she was struggling to feed her family and visiting a doctor in a part of town they did not belong.

Dr. Pada laced his fingers together, rolling them as he locked each digit. He shifted his hands to rest on a belly that looked pre-mature for his age. Sara decided to tell him their story. She would feed the curiosity that danced in his eyes. She’d carry her words in a manner he understood. She had his attention. And he wasn’t looking at his watch. He wasn’t looking at the clock on the wall. He wasn’t paging through files to pull the name of the next patient to be seen. She had his attention and he was the first doctor who was asking to listen; who wanted to listen. She would tell him even though she knew the problem with her son wasn’t physical. He went someplace on that day six months earlier and no one has seen him since. She would tell him because she had no place else to go and nobody to give her the time to listen.

Kyle could still feel the flush of embarrassment in his cheeks as his mother began telling the Doctor what happened. He didn’t mean to snap about the chair, really he didn’t. The words were out of his mouth sooner than he could stop and rein them in. Sometimes that happened – and he knew it was a bad habit. His father always told him to keep the filter on,
keep it on or you’ll get stung,
he said. But Kyle often left the filter off and was too quick with his tongue. And it cost him. It cost him more times than he cared to count.
Keep it on or you’ll get stung,
Kyle thought to himself.
Sometimes it was a trip to his room. Or maybe it was losing his Xbox for a few days. Other times it was a bloodying flat punch to the nose from the older kids like Steve Jefferies at school who teased Kyle and his friends every day. Kyle’s tongue could trip him up like nothing else;
keep it on or you’ll get stung,
his lips moving to the whisper of those words.

Glancing over at his mom, Kyle searched for the
pretty
that left her. Butterflies woke and stirred in him; they gnawed on his gut. He looked past his mother’s new thin grays and looked past the small web of wrinkles around her eyes. He looked and tried to find the
pretty
he grew up with. It was Davy Wilkins during school recess who proclaimed that Kyle had the hot mom in the bunch. He agreed, as far as moms go that is. But now her prettiness was hidden behind layers of worry and pain. The butterflies stirred some more, spreading their wings. Her prettiness was also hidden behind what Kyle hated seeing more than anything else: fear.

As his mother spoke, Kyle played that day back in his head. It was like watching one of the old super-8 mm films his father used to pull down from the attic to show him. His dad would laugh, explaining what ‘videos’ used to look like, a long time ago. But this wasn’t one of his father’s super-8 films; the film in his head was full of sounds and smells and feeling.

“Time to do the DQ,” Chris Connely told his boys while walking to a favorite ice-cream spot. The April air felt crisp and carried the smell of spring. He pulled his jacket closer around him and was glad he dressed his boys the same. “It’s never too early in the season for the DQ,” he mumbled proudly and listened to the sound of their sneakers following along.

A shadow bounced on the sidewalk and then vanished. It bounced next to him again – and again, it vanished. Chris laughed as Jonnie jumped up and down trying to copy his steps. Chris looked behind him to see his son hopping and landing his little feet in just the same places as his own size tens. Kyle joined along while talking fast about who
poned
who on Xbox Live. Chris shook his head trying to understand the language. After sucking down a needed breath, Kyle put on a wide grin and asked whether the money he’d saved was enough for a trip to GameStop. Chris considered this a moment and then looked into his upturned face, “well, do you have a game in mind?” he asked, raising his brow.

“It’s GameStop,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “There’s always a game I want,” he added, and chuckled.

Chris nodded. “Fair enough. We’ll talk to Mom when we get home, sound good?” He paused and smiled, “Kyle … guess what – it’s time to do the DQ,” Chris stopped short and abrupt, realizing Jonnie wouldn’t be looking. A step and hop later and the top of his son’s head landed square against Chris’s rear. He watched as the shadow figure parroting his legs went flat and then disappeared. The bounce sent Jonnie back on his bottom with a thump. Kyle giggled once, then burst out laughing, citing more of the Xbox-ese that sounded alien to Chris.

“Epic Fail dude – Epic!!” Kyle teased.

Jonnie pulled his arms up and rolled to his side. “Hey, what up?” he said trying to get back to his feet.

Chris lost his smile in an
oops
expression. He cleaned off his son then leaned in and lifted him up so that they were face to face.

“Sorry 'bout that, didn’t know you’d end up on your end,” he consoled with a smile.

Jonnie pumped his small fingers in the air, “Superman! Superman!” he yelled, reaching both his arms and his legs out in each direction. He was quick to forget the little bumps and ready to jump into the important ones like playing Superman.
Not the new Superman
, Chris thought or even the old Superman. But the only Superman he let his kids get to know, the one he grew up watching – the Christopher Reeves Superman. 

Chris put his hands under Jonnie’s belly and swung him around in small circles. Jonnie closed his eyes as the air pushed on his face; his smile broadened. He reached behind him and pulled out the sides of a blue blanket. It was his cape. Little giggles erupted into an excited laugh. Chris swung him around a few more times, laughing with him. But Chris slowed when a pass of air turned his nose.

“Your cape is smelling rough little man, might be in need of some suds.” Chris moved his face close enough to touch his nose to Jonnie’s. Jonnie giggled and squirmed and clutched his cape. “When
we
get home … how about
we
trade it up for a clean one,” he said, staggering his words with each nose touch. Jonnie smiled and nodded a
yup
as Chris put his son down.

“We should toss it out,” Kyle jumped up on his toes and shouted.

“I mean seriously, shouldn’t it be in the trash? It stinks!” Kyle cackled and motioned a wave of his hand to his nose.

“You stink,” Jonnie spat back at his older brother. Jonnie looked up to his Dad, a hint of hurt forming in his small round face.

“It’s
my
Superman Cape – mom made it for me,” he followed up with an embrace of the blue.

“Epic Fail, it’s not even red. It’s blue, ya dope. Superman’s Cape
is
red!” Kyle’s words howled in a relentless shout, laughing all the while.

Jonnie took a small step back behind his father’s leg. One hand held the blue cape while his other took hold of Chris’s pant leg as though seeking shelter or a shield in the land of sibling rivalry.

Chris gave Kyle a look of shallow irritation. “Kyle --” he said, raising his voice, “-- that’s enough. It’s just a blanket, let him have fun with it.”

Jonnie’s hands held the blue against his chest, his knuckles growing white the harder he pressed as though daring his older brother to take it from him.

“It’s
my
Superman’s Cape!” Jonnie said with a new defiance as he stepped out from behind his father.

Kyle was already looking past the two of them by now – he spied the Dairy Queen sign a few yards ahead and took off for the entrance. For the foreseeable future Kyle forgot about the cape. He forgot about the stink of it. He may have even forgotten about his yet to be named Xbox game waiting for him at the GameStop.

“Time to do the DQ,” he hollered, shooting a look back at his dad and little brother.

“Sorry Jonnie,” he added with a smile.

“Time to do the DQ, let’s go!” he repeated, waving his arms for Jonnie to join in the run.

And just like that Chris saw the boys put an end to their hiccup. Jonnie looked up to his Dad, seeking approval to run ahead. Chris saw the white of his son’s knuckles returning to their former color and nodded. He watched Jonnie turn, his Superman cape swinging around with lift as he flew off in pursuit of his older brother. Chris smiled as the two of them ran together in a race for the doors of their local Dairy Queen.
Time to do the DQ
, Chris thought and picked up his feet in a run to join his boys.

“Afternoon, Mr. Connely,” Chris heard from behind the counter. A girl of about fifteen peered around the side of the cash register and met them with a smile. She wore freckles across her nose that matched the color of her hair. Some of her hair stuck to her forehead while some teased her eyes. Like many of her peers, two rows of braces accompanied her smile which she was quick to cover up. He returned a smile to Eileen who lived on their street and who could whip up some of the best DQ Blizzards in less than five minutes. And who, on occasion, was willing to accept invitations to babysit. Chris found that especially useful for those evenings when he and Sara wanted more from a restaurant than a Waffle House or a Red Robin could offer.

“Hi Eileen – you working here today,” Kyle asked, jumping in before Chris could reply. Chris watched as Kyle spoke. He watched his son stretch forward on his toes in an attempt to capture an extra half inch of height. Kyle leaned some more and pushed every bit of his skinny frame. Chris heard it in his son’s voice and saw it in his attempt to be 4-foot-something-more than he was. His son had a crush on the babysitter.
Older girls will break your heart Kyle
, Chris thought smiling.

They were in luck, no lines at the counter and only a few customers in the diner-style seating that married the walls around them. To one side there were some teens. The girls busy on their phones – their thumbs hammering at the small keyboards. The teen boys opposite of them, the possible subjects of their texts, sat watching a video; the kind teen boys liked to watch. Behind them an old couple was splitting a milkshake and talking in whispers. Chris thought they could be contemplating the ten or more lactose intolerance rules they were breaking in a capture of delights from their younger years. Chris stole a look behind the counter to see if anyone was helping Eileen.

“Here by yourself?” he asked.

She shrugged a quick uh-huh, “just for a little while.”

“At least it’s not too busy.”

Eileen nodded then leaned over the counter to where Jonnie could see her, “you here for some Blizzards or is this trip just for Dad?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Jonnie turned to Eileen and stepped closer, his eyes gleaming. “I’m getting a Blizzard and – and my Dad thinks maybe he shouldn’t have one cause on account his middle is bigger than it used to be,” he answered excitedly and with full sincerity.

“We’ll have the usual three,” Chris answered to Eileen laughing. He pulled his boys together in front of him and rested his hands around their shoulders. Still smiling, Eileen tallied up the treats on the cash register. As she handed him dollars and change, all went silent in the Dairy Queen. The coins in her hand dropped. The sounds of loose change bounced and rolled across the counter pulling Chris’s eyes as some fell to the ground. He watched Eileen back away from them. He watched as she raised her hands as though shielding herself from some unseen forces.

Chris didn’t so much as hear the first scream but instead saw it coming from Eileen’s mouth while she cowered further. Her eyes were on fire and fixed on a gun that was waving in front of her. It was a surreal moment, and Chris half smiled thinking that maybe this was a joke. A bad joke. The kind that ended up on YouTube or television like one of those flash mobs at the mall. But as fast as the circumstances changed from
doing the DQ
to realizing their lives were in danger, Chris knew this was the beginning of something bad. He knew it would get worse long before it got better.

Kyle forgot about the Blizzards. He forgot about the beauty that was Eileen’s long brown hair and eyes and nose and mouth. He forgot about the fantasy playing in his head of a babysitter who had a crush on him. His mind went empty when he saw the large man behind them step up to the counter. A large man with a gun in his hand, raised from his side and pointing at his Eileen. Kyle felt his father’s hand on his shoulder. He felt the slow persuasion of direction it was indicating for him to move. Just a step or two would lead him and Jonnie to the safety behind his dad. As fear grew in him, Kyle was becoming more and more aware of the man in front yelling for money from his Eileen. He scoured the details of the man, his height, his face, his eyes and even his smell. The man was
off
he thought. Something was wrong. The man looked ill but then didn’t. The man looked desperate. He looked scared.