The Last Superhero (10 page)

“
About
what?”

“
Us.”
He drawls the monosyllable until tomorrow.

Oh, there's an 'us'!

“
Wait
until you meet her. She needs no explanations.”

A bit of the easiness melts
away.

I change gears, find his
hand, give it a squeeze.

“
You
can trust her, you'll see.”

Arrive at the airport and he
brought this pair of aviator glasses that I wish he hadn't because he
looks like some badass movie character with his leather jacket and
dark jeans.

He's pretty fashionable for
having been living under a rock all this time.

“
There
she is.”

He freezes.

Effusive hugs, maverick
eyes. She shakes his hand like any squealing fan girl would.

“
Mom,
Steven Dennis. Steven, my mother, Juliana Moran.”

If only she knew exactly who
that hand belongs to.

“
So
glad to meet you at last!”

Breathe. Remind yourself
that you love her to death and push a grin.

“
Pleasure's
all mine.” Steven appears okay with it. “Let me get that
for you.”

He takes the luggage, Mom
takes my arm and, before I know it, she's taken Steven's too.

Motherhood 101: Whatever you
do, make sure you embarrass your children at every given opportunity.

Steven puts her suitcases in
the trunk of my car with incredible ease and if I didn't know about
his power I'd say he'd kill it in a power-lifting competition. Mom's
known for carrying half the house in those things and coming from the
book fair, she must be carrying Christmas in each.

A short argument lands Mom
in the backseat and a reluctant Steven in the passenger's.

“
So,
Mr. Dennis, Giana hasn't told me much about you, but the little she
has shared has been very nice. Do you have any complaints about my
girl? Has she been good while I haven't been around?”

“
Mom,”
I warn.

“
You
can call me Steven, Mrs. Moran. And no, no complaints about your
daughter so far.”

So far?!

“
Juliana,
just Juliana, please.”

Smiles flashing like laser
beams between these two and here I am removed from it all.

“
Juliana.”

Smug bastard's savoring the
name.

“
She's
been good then. Forced you to read her favorite books yet? How about
that colorful lexicon of hers?”

“
Mom!”

“
She's
been good, don't worry. I love reading so I wouldn't mind being
forced
to do so. As far as the language goes, that needs to be dealt with.”

“
I'm
sure it's an age thing.”

“
I'm
twenty-nine, Mom.”

“
You
don't have to remind me how old
I
am, darling. Now, tell me, how did you meet such a handsome and
charming man? And did you remember to save one for me also?”

Swallow me already, stupid
driver seat.

“
At
the bookshop. Came in one night and kept coming until I had to take
notice.”

“
Ah!
Isn't that great? I'll have to visit it more often then, looking out
for the good ones.” A cough breaks her speech and I get a
glance from Steven. “You see, Steven, it's very hard for young
women like Giana and myself to find intelligent, sensible, attractive
men these days.”

Another bit of coughing,
another glance from Steven.

“
I
don't think I fit any of those categories, Juliana.”

“
Oh,
you do, Steven, you do.”

Now I'm trying to bury my
face in the steering wheel.

Mom laughs, more coughs.
Look at her through the rearview mirror as she tries to mask it with
some laughter.

“
You
okay there?”

“
I'm
fine, my dear. Excited to be back.”

The coughing fit comes to a
halt.

What doesn't is Steven's
semi-furrowed brow.

“
We're
still having dinner, right? I'm starving. Thought Fiore would be
nice.”

No, please, not that one.

“
What
about that new place down the block? The Turkish one?”

“
I
think Italian sounds better.”

No, it doesn't.

“
I'm
up for some Italian too,” Steven comments.

Mom's sending me one of her
stink eyes.

She's always got to have it
her way. Fucking always.

“
I
miss Simon,” she says the moment we arrive, as I help her out
of the car and low enough only for me to hear.

“
Steven
hasn't met Simon.”

“
Then
he will now,” she says like it's nothing and we've joined
Steven on the other side of the car and he's heard.

“
Something
wrong?” His hand caresses my back.

For me a bit but not for
her.

“
Nothing,”
I try, but he's got suspicion in his eyes and it's not for what, or
better, whom, is inside that restaurant.

Simon. Young, slim, black
hair neatly tied into a ponytail. Receives mom with a kiss and a hug.

“
It's
been too long.” He embraces her.

“
And
not a day goes by that I don’t miss you. How's Clarice?”

“
She's
great. I'll tell her you were here and she'll be so happy.”

“
And
how are the kids doing?”

Yeah, Mom. We can stand
being ignored for the next hour or so while you go on about Simon's
perfect life. At least I can, of course, since I've got the single
most greatest discovery in human kind's recent years tightening his
arm around my waist this very moment.

“
Giana!”
Simon turns to me.

“
Simon.”
He kisses my cheek, eyes Steven. “Steven, Simon. Simon,
Steven.”

“
Come,
I'll give you the best seats in the house.” A flourish of the
hands and we're following him through tables with white linens lit by
candlelight.

The tension diminishes once
Mom starts cracking jokes and Simon can't help himself from passing
by our table every now and then, bringing us stuff we didn't order as
compliments of the house.

He owns the place. Thriving
business.

To think he was in deep shit
years ago and we talked, supported, and comforted him through the
horrible affair of getting off the streets and becoming the man he is
now.

He's been trying to repay me
since forever. Supporting us when crisis strikes.

Life morphed him from my
school years' best friend to a junkie in need of shelter to being the
generous man from whom I borrowed money last time the accountant came
with the bankruptcy papers for me.

The same man I can't go to
again next time because I still owe him from that other time.

“
Giana?”
He stops me by the kitchen when I make an intentional trip to the
bathroom.

“
I
have your payment, Simon.”

“
No,
no, it's not that.” He levels his eyes to me. “Are you
dating that man?”

I spy on Steven and Mom from
the corridor we're in.

“
I
might still be dating him if I make it back to the table before Mom
makes a move on him.”

“
That's
good. That's awesome. He, I mean. He looks like a nice person.”
Simon pats my shoulder. “Anything you need, you know Clarice
and I are only a phone call away, eh?” He casts his eyes to the
side. “How's she doing?”

“
Dad
emailed me some of her results and it's not looking good.”

“
Damn.”
And it sounds like the Simon from fifteen years ago, the one that
would pluck the books from my hands and made me chase him around the
school.

After his mishap with
addiction, he went on to become a wonderful family man and successful
businessman while I went on to have a never-ending list of crap
relationships and a bankrupt bookstore.

We didn't talk as much
anymore and I think it's a bit of envy from my part.

Although I always welcome it
when he smuggles rare wines and they end up in my hands.

Suck it up. Check on Steven.
He's laughing, hard.

“
I
should get back, she's making him laugh out louder now. I'm not
losing this one to her.”

“
Uh-oh.
Go and save him from Juliana's famous too-much-laughter death.”
He leans to my ear. “We'll talk later.”

When I get back, Steven's
eyes crinkle, a sight I will never stop enjoying.

Another joke comes floating
in time with our plates and we have to remind ourselves to breathe,
to eat, to not spit out our drinks.

And I can tell Steven hasn't
had such a good time for longer than the years he's spent dead to
everyone but very much alive.

“
Your
father is coming to visit us soon,” Mom says, pressing her hand
over mine. “Mari Paz is excited about it since we had such a
great time during their last visit.” Retrieves the hand, goes
back to her food. “And, come to think of it, I believe your
father will get along with Steven very well.”

“
Of
course he will.”

My father, like Mom, gets
along with everyone.

At least with Dad I won't
have to worry about Steven being flirted out of my grasp.

After dinner, it's Mom's
place and a moment when she stops and stares into Steven's eyes.

“
It's
like I've seen you before,” she starts.

“
At
the bookstore, of course,” Steven replies.

“
Probably.”
She shrugs.

We exchange a glance, but
Steven's so comfortable he doesn't give a damn.

“
Someone's
happy,” I mention the moment I start the car.

“
Such
a nice woman. Wouldn't have expected less.” His eyes are
somewhere else. “Is she sick?”

“
No.”
A lie said through gritted teeth.

“
There's
no need to lie to me.” His voice turns deeper. “I've
lived long enough to be able to tell when someone's sick.”

Loud breath. Let it hang for
a second.

“
She
was visiting Dad so he could run some tests on her, trying to figure
what's going on.”

“
Any
idea?”

“
COPD
is our best bet. Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. Thank heavens
she didn't get the H1N1 thing or she'd be pushing up daisies by now.
Dad's resorted to sending me some of her test results behind her back
because she doesn't want to talk about it.”

Without a warning, he's
taken my hand and is pressing it to his lips.

It sends a tingling
sensation from that point to my hips.