The Last Superhero (41 page)

“
I'd
take the pills.” Daphne raises a hand.

“
Exactly.”
Stare blankly at my coffee while something shoots from the back of my
brain to the front. “Steven used to stay awake while I slept.”

And then there are two pairs
of arms attaching themselves to my torso because it's happening
again.

44

Week two.

I
often wonder how Steven's doing, but Ross won't give me any details
apart from 'he's doing all right.' Yet the way he side-glances, the
way he searches for a place to set his gaze instead of on me, tells
me it's not
all
right
.

Simon and Clarice insist Mom
stays at their house since it's less gloomy than ours and given the
fact that they're helping cover the costs, there's sense in their
words.

Where there's no sense is in
this emptiness I carry now. The one that pushes out that single tear
that rides down the side of my face every morning.

It makes sense in the fact
that I know where it comes from. It doesn't make sense in the fact
that I have no idea what to do to make it go away. It angers me. It
saddens me. It makes me want to shout at the top of my lungs.

Dad stays around and even
when he doesn't ask many questions, he's curious about lots of
things, mostly stuff I don't know the answer to myself.

“
Were
all the nightmares you were in like the last one?” he asks one
day while we're having lunch on Simon and Clarice's terrace while Mom
sleeps and Clarice's out with the kids.

A beautiful place to have
lunch or plain idle your day away, I must say.

“
Not
exactly. It was crowded, for starters.”

He chuckles to that. He's
learned to chuckle at the funny comments I throw in every once in a
while because he's the one who's heard me cry myself to sleep every
night.

“
I've
been meaning to ask you about the child.”

“
You
shouldn't rock and eat at the same time. You're shaking the food in
your stomach,” I say as I eye him going back and forth in a
rocking chair while holding his plate in his hand. “There was a
nightmare where I saw Steven as a child, in his house with his
mother.”

“
Was
it him, then?” He's stopped moving, thank god; it was making me
dizzy.

“
I
think so. It certainly looked like him.” I shrug it off and
he's got the grace not to ask any further, but it's already done.

I inhale in an effort not to
put the plate down and cry.

God, I miss him so much it
hurts inside, as if my organs were ready to explode and it makes my
stomach churn to think he's not with me anymore and he might never be
again.

“
It's
okay,” Dad says, bringing me back.

And I'm a good girl and keep
on eating, letting the chewing cover the tumult hidden within.

“
I
haven't asked you why you morphed into a lion, though.”

He laughs again, a naughty
grin lingering on his lips. “You know I've always liked lions.”

“
Is
that why you're sporting that longer than normal beard?”

His hand flies to it as if
by instinct. “I should trim it.”

“
Nah.
Leave it like that. I like it. As long as you don't...”

“
RRRRAAWWWRRRRR.”

“
Oh
god, no!”

He bursts out in laughter
and all I can do is join him, alleviated by that embarrassment
brought on by his silliness.

And I see in his eyes that
he likes that I laugh and it's heaven, if only for a while.

45

Week three.

Dad waits until then to fly
back to Madrid. Not without asking me if I want him to stay for a
million times first.

“
Go.
Mari Paz needs you.”

He forces an uncomfortable
grin while holding my face in his hands. “I'll be back in a
couple of days.” And the question lingers. It asks about Mom
and if she'll make it through. Question that goes unasked as he
kisses my cheek and his beard tickles me. “You'll be all
right.”

Yeah. I'll be all right.

Lest we forget how fragile
we are.

Drown myself in words and
the sound of the ventilator because going back to an empty house is
too much to bear.

Dive into the fantastic in
order to cope with the reality that pushes me to prefer to pass out
in a chair next to Mom's bed before facing the deafening silence that
envelops the house we used to share. Thankfully, Simon and Clarice's
guest room is comfortable enough not to miss my bed so much.

Or Steven's, for that
matter.

I'm able to finish Daphne's
manuscript in record time, although I believe I went too easy on her.

She even talks about the
idea of co-authoring her next novel with me.

I'm not good with vampires
and werewolves, but I'll do my best since I know she's proposing it
to take my mind off what's happened.

What's happened is that I'm
finally able to wake up and not cry, although it still happens when
I'm staring at the ceiling late at night. And sometimes while I'm
sending out job applications and it feels like the whole world has
fallen over me and I have to let some of it out and head out of the
house for a smoke but just one because I have to pick myself up and
go on with my life. Can't keep using my unhealthy habits as crutches
anymore.

Maybe tonight I'll sleep in
my bed, at Mom's. Because I can't occupy Simon and Clarice's guest room
forever.

But every time I try to
leave, every time I get in my car and see the duct tape on the door
Steven busted, every time I walk into that empty house, I feel the
need to run away from it.

Sometimes it's better not to
have a place to run away to because then you never want to face the
truth in all its ugliness.

Tomorrow. I promise.
Tomorrow I'll go home and spend the night there, by myself.

And, like they say, tomorrow
is only a day away and Dad's flown back by then and I don't have to
do it.

Not yet.

It's by the end of this
third week, while sitting inside Wyatt's office, drying my tears
after a good vent, that he braves an invitation to dinner that I
don't know how to answer.

“
As
friends.” He answers the question I don't ask. “I think
it would do you good to get out for a while. You can't trap yourself
inside four walls.”

“
I'm
not...” A protest that dies in my lips.

“
I
won't push you into doing something you don't want, Giana. I'm
sorry.”

AGH.
“No,
I'm
sorry.” Set a hand on the arm of his chair. “Yes. Let's
do dinner.” See how his face brightens, how he smiles.

“
I'll
pick you up at seven.”

“
K.”
I stand.

He's awkward and bashful and
I know he's doing it because he cares so I hug him and ask him how
much it is for the hour I just spent bawling on his divan, but he
waves me off with an “I'll see you later.”

A
later
that doesn't quite click until Dad asks me what I'd like to have for
dinner and I'm sitting on the sofa getting my daily dose of aimless
Internet browsing. “SHIT! Wyatt invited me to dinner!”
Frantic looks around the room for a clock before realizing the
computer has one. “In less than an hour!”

“
And
you haven't picked up your new glasses.” He walks into the
living room where I'm now standing, mind blank.

Touch the tape still keeping
the frame together. “I didn't. Dammit.”

“
Get
ready then!”

Wait a moment. “Aren't
you going to say anything?”

Nonchalant tone, “'Bout
what?”

“
Wyatt.
Asked me. To dinner.”

“
Good.”

“
Good?”

“
Yeah,
of course. He's your friend and he's been there all this time
checking on you and your mother.” Pats my shoulder. “Now
go pretty yourself.”

Easier said than done. God
this is awful! I feel like I haven't worn proper makeup in forever.

Steven never took me to
dinner. We'd make it ourselves. Stay in.

Fuck no I'm not going to
cry!

Call Daphne and she's
excited about it and I'm like don't go thinking this is something
it's not.

Realize we didn't settle on
a place so I have to wear something that would work in any kind of
situation. Get cues from Daphne on the makeup while holding the phone
at an angle where the light hits my face so the camera picks it up
well enough for her to criticize it.

Butterflies. For the first
time in a long time, I get butterflies.

Hear voices in the
background and pull my hair into a tight ponytail because it's the
best way to keep it from frizzing mid-dinner.

Stop for a moment and
control your breathing.

Keep those thoughts at bay,
the ones that make you feel like losing your mind.

“
I
wish I would've worn this for Steven.” The comment that makes
Daphne blink slower than normal.

“
This
isn't about that. This is not a date, Giana. You're going out to
dinner with a friend, just like you do with me. Only this one has a
penis.”

That makes me wince. “Daph!”

She's cracking up on the
other side and I see what she did there.

“
Love
ya, dude.” I wave goodbye before ending the video call.

Double-check the dress and
the hair and the eyeliner. Pull an old clutch with some glitter on
it, try to fit your wallet and phone in it and step out, towards the
cheerful voices that travel through the walls. Walk down the stairs
in high heels without displacing your patellas and find two pairs of
eyes staring at you.

“
Giana!”
Wyatt's surprise doesn't leave me waiting as he smiles over his
jacket, shirt, and bow tie. Because he's cool like that. “You
look lovely.”

And I can see Dad thinks the
same but can't say it, so he kisses my cheek goodbye and I feel like
he's handing me over to my prom date, only Wyatt looks nothing like
what Simon looked back then, apart from the fact that he's all
smiles.

The night, after all, goes
way better than I thought it would. He holds the doors and pulls my
chair and orders this wonderful wine.

He speaks with the intention
of sparking intelligent conversations and never to parade himself
like a circus act. Although by his clothes, you could say there's
some clownish thing going on with him. Something I find quite
refreshing and even inviting.

Keep the talking light. The
spirits high. And it's so easy to give in to enjoying the night.

That finishes with a walk
under dim streetlights beside a man hiding his hands in his pockets.

Everything's so nice and so
pretty that I could really use a cigarette, but they didn't fit in
this clutch...

“
You
can smoke if you want.”

Embarrassed giggle.
“Couldn't fit them in this.” Bring the clutch to the
light. “And, well, maybe I'm trying to quit?”

“
That's
good.”

“
Yeah.”
Just mentioning it makes me want one even more. “Clarice has
forbidden me to smoke at her house, you know, because of the children
and, well, seeing Mom having such a hard time breathing has made me
question why I'm doing it.”