The Last Superhero (20 page)

“
What
the fuck does that even mean?”

“
You
have become acquainted with the famous Salvatore Jr. after he's
disregarded the contract he signed in the year 1985 where it's stated
that he'd remain secluded in the manor his parents left behind here
in the United States. No travel, as the rest of the Waldorf
properties were seized by the respective governments of the countries
they were located in, and no contact with humans apart from the
strictly necessary such as grocery shopping and running errands.
After the incident with the junkie in which you were involved, it has
become evident that we can't trust his judgment any further.”

“
He
saved me from a possible stabbing. I was an unarmed victim and he
saved me. It wasn't his intention to kill that man.”

“
Had
it stayed there we'd be able to assess the situation differently,
however, he's been out of the house for longer periods of time and
taking part in social activities that were strictly forbidden under
such contract.”

“
You
can't keep him caged like an animal. I mean, twenty-eight years is
more than enough.”

“
He
risks exposure, risks people recognizing him, and we can't have that.
He's not to be trusted.”

“
He's
a wronged man, that's what he is. If you knew half the things he's
been through, the things he's still going through.” Puff in
frustration. “Put yourself in his shoes for once.”

“
His
last victim was a woman he was sentimentally involved with, Miss
Armstrong. Do you have any idea what happened to her?”

“
Genevieve?”

“
Autopsy
revealed a complete shutdown of her system due to multiple internal
traumas. It was a slow and painful death, her organs gave up one by
one and no doctor could find out what it was happening to her until
it was too late. He'd been living in Scotland under a pseudonym at
the time. Our efforts to locate him were futile until he flew back to
the US and gave himself up. Then we struck a deal and the contract
was signed, enabling him to live under the radar for as many years as
he has left.”

“
Liked
a caged animal.” Oh, neon tiger...

“
Not
exactly. We gave him the opportunity to keep his life, the plan back
then was to kill him on sight and he knew it. So, Miss Armstrong, if
you value your life at all, do take my advice and stay as far away
from him as you can.”

Flick the cig into a
flowerpot and glare at him.

He doesn't even notice, just
goes.

What am I doing sneering at
an agent of the law?

Better pull my reins before
this gets out of control.

Pay my tab, head for the
bookstore.

Find Daphne talking to
Steven and he smiles so big when he sees me, my skin's sent into a
fit of tingles and I say fuck control 'cause I've become a real live
wire.

He's no killer. What is it?

Sorry Ross, can't hear you
and that feels far better.

“
How
are you feeling?” he asks the moment I've said hi to Daphne and
turn to him.

“
I'm
good.” We walk away from Daphne's earshot.

“
Thought
on calling you but didn't want to wake you up so I came here and
Daphne told me you were having breakfast with your father.”

“
Yeah.
He's off to meet with the team dealing with Mom's case and doesn't
want me near her until later.”

“
It's
for the best.” He caresses my face and I purr like a kitten.
“I'll be around if you need me.” Then curls his hand
behind my neck and gifts me with a tender kiss that melts my insides.

And I hold on to that
instead of the things rattling in my mind.

20

Working isn't the best way
for me to clear my mind after the information overload brought by
Agent Ross, especially when that work happens to be so attached to
the things happening outside.

Happens when you run a
family business.

Everything and everyone are
in your face, everything you do a reminder.

And Daphne's never been good
about hiding it when she's sad.

Steven doesn't mingle, so
I'm left to comforting her and wishing it worked on myself.

“
Think
it'd be possible to have a writing group meeting tomorrow night?”
D asks over lunch.

“
Sure,
why not? I've missed having them around.”

“
It'll
be just me, Jake, Frances, and Wyatt.”

Electric jolt and I haven't
even stuck my finger in the receptacle.

“
Wyatt's
a psychiatrist!”

“
Yeah?”
She's pushing lettuce leaves around to get to a cherry tomato
underneath.

“
He
could be of help.”

“
Of
course, talking to a professional could help you deal with all this.”

Pause. She doesn't know what
the fuck I'm talking about.

Although I think she already
knows too much and I like her, don't want to have to kill her.

Evil cackle in my mind.

“
What?”
She's confused. “What are you laughing about?”

“
Nothing.”
Come up with something or she won't drop it. “Wyatt's kinda
weird, isn't he?”

Now she joins my laughter.
“He's eccentric but super smart.”

Eccentric in an 'I mix plaid
with stripes' way isn't being eccentric anymore.

“
I
prefer to say he's camp,” I offer.

“
Yeah,”
she replies, pokes her lettuce. “Camp.”

And the subject is dropped.

Eating a chocolate muffin
after a salad may be counterproductive but oh so good.

And that oh so good feeling
stays with me until Dad calls and Daphne pats my back and I'm off to
the hospital.

Mari Paz greets me in the
lobby and accompanies me on the magic elevator ride that leads to the
floor with the door and the man with the beard who opens it for me
with a finger to his lips going shhhhhh.

Hush. Hush. Don't go calling
my name now.

Hush. Hush. Sit next to her
and take in her complexion.

And it's pale, almost
blanched, and it's frail, and it's all the things you don't want a
loved one to be.

And it hurts, deep inside,
like a spear has pierced my already broken heart.

And I don't know why it's
like a slap in the face from the thousand hands of the thousand
things I could've done, should've done in my lifetime by now.

Because there was a time,
that's now in the past, where I almost had it, where I almost grasped
it. Because there was a time when I was in college and I passed on
the guy she thought would father her grandkids.

Mother's dreams, that's what
I said, why push me towards something I never wanted?

Why
shove
your
unfulfilled dreams down
my
throat?

Luke,
that was his name. I passed on him, and on the rest, looking for
something, that
je
ne sais quoi
,
that
something
else
.

Then time passed and I
directed all my efforts towards work.

And
now that I've found that one with the
je
ne sais quoi
,
she's laying there motionless, high on sedatives, and her chest
heaving to a rhythm that isn't her own.

I pull my chair closer, take
her hand, put my head on the cold sheets, and let it fall.

Faster than a cannonball.

The bomb. The drop.

The landslide.

And I'm caught beneath it.

Sobs.

No wailing.

Just sobs that go on and on
and on.

Muted. Muffled.

Let it pass. The storm.

Let it brush the hair away
from your face with a sudden gust.

Feel it caressing your
cheeks, wiping tears away.

To find yourself in the
middle of a field and the skies are bright and the air so light.

And you have to laugh at the
sight of your mother, yes, your mother prancing like a twit around
green pastures and is she poking that cow?

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“
That
thing is going to bite you!”

Of course, I'm wrong and
she's right, since the cow doesn't even care, she's just munching on
grass while Mom strokes its side.

Then she just wanders off
and I follow, deep into a forest and I don't know where we're going,
but I follow until we hike down a hill and we find a road.

“
Which
way should we go?” I ask.

“
I
go mine, you go yours.”

“
What?”

“
I
go mine, you go yours.”

“
I
heard you.” Cross my arms.

And then she starts pushing
me to my right.

And I freeze.

And she does it again and
she's angry.

“
Mom!
Stop that!”

“
Go.
Just fucking go.”

“
And
I'm the one with the lexicon problem!”

“
Go,
Giana. Your way. Not mine. Stop trying to please everybody, stop
trying to please me. It hurts. It fucking hurts. Stop lying to
yourself and just...” Tears in her eyes. “Let go. You're
so much more than what you think you are.”

“
What
are you going on about?”

“
When
did you turn so serious? When did you turn so bitter? Giana, where
did your dreams go?”

“
What
dreams?”

She stares into my eyes,
pierces, pries, scratches with her fingernails that layer of
protection I didn't even know I had.

“
When
did you give up on them? When did you give up on being happy?”

“
Okay.
There's something definitely wrong here.” Pause. Think.
Realize.

“
Don't
blame him. I asked him to do this.”

“
When?”

“
He
came by last night.”

“
Isn't
it too soon for you two to start creating alliances? He's exposing
himself. What if someone sees him and recognizes him?”

She shrugs her shoulders.
“What if he doesn't care?” Starts walking away.

Bounce back to my doubled
self over the bed and see Steven's hands retreat from my mother's
temples and mine.

Rush out of there, ignoring
his calls behind me, ignoring Dad, ignoring everyone. Run down more
sets of stairs than I care to count and push the metal door, head
towards the street and walk, light up, and walk, keep on walking, one
step after the other.

One step after the other.

And feel rage surging
through you. Feel it chewing your insides because this isn't supposed
to be about you. They are turning it against you. They are using it
to prove their own points.