The Middle East: desert, sand, sun and heat. The burning oil well didn't help any. I just
wished there were enough wind to be upwind of the well. It stank, must be like living in
a diesel engine, if this could be called living.
The rebels had tried to start something. They apparently figured if they made a flash, hit
the news big time, then people would flock to them. It didn't work. The governments in
the region clamped down, no one flocked and the rebels got rounded up or gunned down.
But regardless, their big flash, intended for the cameras, remained. Over fifty oil wells
burned, wasting oil, polluting the air and wherever the wind blew...and making this a
corner of hell. That's why I'm here: putting out oil well fires.
I turned to head back in, having rehydrated (i.e. gotten a drink of cold water). We'd
pulled the superstructure out of the way, and using tractors and long steel cables had
pulled everything back. What was left was removing the manifold, the final piece of
plumbing above the pipe into the ground. Then we'd be able to set up to blow out the
fire, with explosives, after we got a bunch of hoses in here so we could cool down the
metal and suppress sparks so it wouldn't reignite.
I was turning back towards the flaming wellhead, but I never made it, because halfway
through my turn I was stopped by the sight of a figure in a blue uniform. Even through
the grime it was a bright blue. I stared. I admit it, I stared. What do you expect? There
are only two superheroes in the whole world, Superman and his daughter. Well,
presumably his wife was around somewhere as well, but no one admits having seen her.
Supergirl made a comment once that her mother was so subtle she'd save you and you'd
never realize she'd done it. That was the only thing she would say about her mother.
Only two public superheroes in the world and here was one 50 feet away.
The superhero who was here was the daughter, Supergirl. Of course I've seen her on
television but, having seen her in person now, it doesn't do her justice. I guess the
camera may add 20 pounds but also takes something away, you can't see her confidence,
or the way she walks. Only two superheroes in the world and one of them was 40 feet
away. She was streaked with grime and her hair was a little disheveled but she looked
great. Did I mention she looked great? She had an expression on her face that she'd
walk through a wall if it got in her way and not notice but it also looked like she'd swerve
out of her way and keep someone from stumbling at the same time. A combination of
determination and compassion that is darn impressive and just doesn't show on
television. And she has quite a figure. Only two superheroes in the world and one was
only twenty feet away and she was going to walk by even closer on her way to the oil
fire. I took the opportunity to really look at her...she was beautiful under that grime.
Maybe it even added something because she just ignored it and went about her business.
Her eyes met mine and ZAP, there was an electric surge as I looked into those beautiful
dark eyes. Only two superheroes in the world and one of them was about to walk by only
ten feet away. I don't know why I did it, maybe locking eyes with her had shaken
something but I spoke up. "You need a tin hardhat if your going closer to the fire."
She looked at me half amused, half irritated and half perplexed. (Yes, I know that's three
halves, but she's a superhero, she can do things like that!) She walked up to me.
"Really. You need to wear a hardhat near the well."
She stopped, stood there, and tapped her foot.
"It's the rules," I said, lamely.
She reached out and took the tin hard hat off my head. Oh, well, I figured, she'll put it on
and I'll go get another at the 'shack'... there was a crunching noise as she bit into the rim
of the tin hat and started to chew. She handed the hat back to me, with the bite mark in
the brim right in front of my eyes. I took it and stared at the brim. "You have good taste
in hats," she said after swallowing, her voice soft and musical, "but it needs salt." She
walked towards the burning oil well.
I don't know what I'd been thinking when I'd told her she needed a hardhat. I put on the
hat. I knew what I was thinking now: that I was keeping that hat! It was quite a
souvenir, and I'd have a story to tell about the time I said something stupid to a
superhero.
She stopped about 40 feet from the well, put down a rolled up piece of cloth and unrolled
it. I walked over and asked, trying to sound more sensible, "do you need anything?"
Glanced down at the cloth she was unrolling and saw that it was wrapped around three or
four big wrenches. Oddly it looked like the old towel I kept my motorcycle tools in,
except hers was really oily from being near oil well fires.
"No thank you," she said, "I've got everything." That same beautiful voice. That voice
doesn't come across on television either. She shrugged off her cape, which I noticed was
cleaner than the rest of her uniform, picked up a wrench and walked into the fire.
I stared aghast. She walked right up to the manifold, which had a twenty-foot flame over
it and began doing something with her wrench. The hot wind from that flame blew her
hair around. A normal person- make that a normal human- would have been fried on one
side. What am I saying, fried on both sides! She just calmly worked on the manifold for
about five minutes then walked back to where I was standing. One of the foremen had
come over, mainly to tell me that SHE was coming to work on this fire (apparently she'd
worked a couple of other ones today) and then he'd stayed to watch.
She walked up, tossed her wrench in the sand and selected another wrench from her dirty
towel (I'd noticed by now, it really was an old towel, it used to have flowers on it). The
guy who was watching with me started to reach for the wrench she'd tossed down.
"Don't touch that," she snapped.
He didn't listen. His hand closed on the handle and then his hand shook and he dropped
it with a little cry. She was standing next to him in an instant, grasping his wrist and
forcing the fingers open with the other hand. I saw that his hand had already turned red.
She pursed her lips and blew on his hand from a foot away and I felt a cold breeze blow
past, colder than an air conditioning, more like someone had opened freezer door. I
remembered something from physics class, something about expanding a gas taking
energy out of it, which made it colder. That's how refrigerators work. So if she let the
air in her lungs expand it would be cold...
"I was just working on what amounts to an economy size torch with that wrench and you
had to pick it up." She sounded irritable. "I'm changing wrenches because the metal in
that one is starting to soften. And you had to go and pick it up." She didn't seem angry,
too much compassion I guess, but she was bothered that someone had hurt himself. (I
wondered if what bothered her was that it was her watch that he'd hurt himself on.) "Go
get that bandaged." She walked into the flames with her fresh wrench and he went to the
first aid tent to get a burn dressing.
Another five minutes and she was back, a bit of a scowl on her face. She threw down this
wrench too, but it looked like in irritation. I raised an eyebrow. She said, "It's like the
last three bolts are fused solid into holes. The stress combined with the heat must have
force welded them." She wiped her sleeve across her eyes.
"Would you like some water?" I offered.
"Yeah," she said, "as a matter of fact I would. And can you have them bring up the
replacement manifold for when I get this one off?"
"Sure," I said, heading towards the water first. She turned and walked back to the fire,
not waiting for me to return. "What about your wrench?" I called, confused.
"It's not working. I'm going to have to cut them out," she called back.
"With what?"
"The evil eye," she called back as she entered the fire zone.
I went back and got her several bottles of water, had someone radio for the truck with the
replacement manifold and went back to watch her finish. She had her head right next to
the pipe, peering along it. And then suddenly the manifold came loose into her arms, the
fire that had been above the manifold was now below it, where the pipe ended. Flames
erupted all over her. I gasped and dropped one of the bottles of water. But a few seconds
later she walked out cradling the manifold in her hands. All three hundred or more
pounds of thousand-degree hot metal. Carrying it casually.
She came back and dumped the manifold in the sand. I handed her the bottle of water I'd
picked up while she was walking back. She took it and twisted off the cap. "Thanks.
Soot in the eyeball. It makes them feel scratchy." She tilted her head back and dumped
about a cup of water over her eyes. She blinked several times as the now dirty water ran
off her face. "Uh, wasting water like this isn't going to offend anyone, is it? I mean, we
are in a desert after all."
"No," I reassured her, waving my hands. "We all do it sometimes to cool off."
"Oh, good." And she dumped about half of the bottle over her eyes before taking a deep
gulp. "Don't touch the manifold, though I suspect you're too smart for it. I can't believe
he was stupid enough to touch that wrench... I'm sorry, no offense intended, I shouldn't
call him stupid."
"He was stupid," I said. "I can't believe he did it either. You certainly don't need to
apologize."
"Thanks. I usually don't say things like that, but I've already done six of these fires
today and they're not exactly calming."
"Six?"
She nodded. "This is the seventh today, I started at 4:30. Have they got the replacement
manifold on site or do I need to fly it in?"
I pointed at the crated manifold on the bed of the truck, pleased that I could give her
some good news.
"Then let's get this fire out..." and then she paused and drank the rest of the bottle of
water.
"Explosives?" I asked.
"No. Me. Keep everyone well back." She handed me the empty water bottle and took
several deep breaths. Then she began inhaling and just kept inhaling. There was a wind
that seemed to be kicked up as she kept breathing in. (I thought my ears popped from the
pressure drop but that was probably my imagination). Then she flew into the fire just
above the wellhead.
I gasped. It was very impressive watching her hovering there in the flame, but what was
she planning?
She spread her arms and started to spin. The aerodynamics around her created a
flameless space around her. Then she altered the angle of her palms and suddenly she
was blowing air outward in all direction, like a spinning water sprinkler sends on water.
The vacuum she created caused the flames to go out. The air coming towards me stank
of soot and oil. But with all the hot material in the area as soon as she stopped it would
re-ignite.
Suddenly she flipped over so she was spinning head down. She was still creating a
vacuum with her spin but now she was upside down. She opened her mouth and exhaled
a huge breath of air. The oxygen in her breath allowed the fire to start again but like
blowing out a candle it also extinguished it.
The wind coming now was cooler than it had been.
She ran out of air in her lungs and flipped over to spin head upward and sucked in more
air from the top while her spin kept up the vacuum near the bottom. Then she inverted
again and continued cooling off things near the wellhead. She repeated the procedure
several times.
Finally she left the wellhead, which was now blowing crude oil into the air, and flew
back to land next to me. I gave her another bottle of water, which she opened but only
took one sip from.
"Interesting way of putting out a well fire," I commented.
"There is one little trick to it," she admitted.
"Keeping from becoming dizzy?"
"Two little tricks. One is not getting dizzy. The other is knowing when you can stop
without it re-lighting. First time I did that it restarted three times before I got it right.
Time to put the new manifold on before we get a spark and it relights." She started
towards the truck with the new manifold.
"We'll give you a hand," I offered getting ready to motion for the rest of the crew to join
us.
She turned and stopped me with a gentle hand on the chest. Her hand was warm, and
very soft, so wonderful... "Leave this to me," she said, breaking the spell.
"We can do this," I protested. "We're professionals, you know."
"You're professionals," she agreed, "but I'm fireproof. If there's a little static discharge
while I'm setting the manifold, which can happen, that well could reignite. If I'm
standing there when it happens I may need a new uniform. If you're standing there you'll
need a new coffin. Please, just leave this to me." She went over, uncrated the manifold
with her bare hands instead of a crow bar. When it was free she just picked it up. You'd
expect that she'd grunt as she lifted it, I grunt when I lift things much lighter, but she just
picked it up, carried it to the wellhead and began mounting it. She dashed back once for
her wrenches to get into some tight spot but she moved so fast I could barely see her
moving and then she was done. She spun the valve to shut off the flow of crude oil with
a satisfied expression.
I gave her another bottle of water, hoping she'd at least take the time to wash a little. She
just thanked me for it and flew off. I guess she had another well to put out.
= = = = =
It was a small bar, in the middle of nowhere, and I happened to walk into it, because it
was the only one around. When they say the Middle East is dry they don't just mean it
doesn't rain very often, they also mean they don't serve alcohol. They're pretty strict
about it. But they also realize that if they want foreigners, who don't mind if someone
drinks, to come here and work on things like putting out fires (which is very thirsty work)
then they have to provide some amenities. A drink isn't really necessary but it's very
nice. So there's a compromise. This spot, in the middle of nowhere, is technically
outside any national boundary, so it is the one place around that you can come and get a
drink.
The bar is basically a shack. It's small and with all the foreigners working on the well
fires it was crowded. There are a few tables and every one of them had at least 4 people
sitting at it and most had more. Except for one table. That one only had one person
sitting at it. Sitting at it in a bright blue uniform.
Our eyes met again. There was that electric zap effect again as I looked into her dark
eyes. We only broke our gaze and looked away when someone nudged me to get in the
door and asked me to move.
I could see she was sitting there with a soft drink, nursing it along. Her eyes scanned the
room every so often. I walked over to the bar. I fished in my pocket for some cash,
leaned close to the guy tending bar so he could hear me over the noise, and no one else
could. "She's here?" I asked, knowing she could probably hear me ask.
"Yeah. She brought over some of the guys and promised to make sure everything stayed
fairly quiet. She's just been sipping that cola for an hour. The one fight that started she
broke up just by standing up."
"Does she drink anything harder?"
"I don't know. She hasn't asked for anything else. I don't know if she's of drinking age
but if she asks for it I'M not going to ask her for ID."
I decided something. I said, "two beers to start" and put cash on the bar. He handed me
two bottles and put a bottle opener on the bar. Most of the world has gone to easy
opening bottles but in the Middle East you still need a bottle opener. I've been here
before, I have one on my key chain. I picked up the bottles and ignored the opener. Then
I walked over to the table with just a single occupant.
Our eyes met, but after a few seconds we both looked away so we could actually
converse. "May I buy you a drink?" I asked. "I don't know if you like beer," I said,
putting one of the bottles on the table in front of her. "I can get you a soft drink if you
prefer..."
"Beer's fine. I don't drink it very often, it doesn't do much for me." She explained, "the
alcohol has no effect on me, it might as well be flavored water to me, but the taste is a
nice change. Sit down, please," she offered, motioning to the chair across from her. Her
eyes swept the room, patrolling for trouble I guess. "You're the first person with enough
guts to join me."
I pulled out the chair, felt for my bottle opener. She reached out and grasped the neck of
the bottle in front of her and put her thumbnail under the cap and pushed. The cap
flipped up about 2 feet and finally landed on the table with a ping. I stared.
She realized I was still standing and motioned for me to sit and said, "allow me." She
grabbed the other bottle and popped the cap off it too. This time it went up more like
four feet before coming down. Was she showing off just a little?
I sat and took a sip of my beer while I tried to think of something intelligent to say. She
took a larger sip and sat there considering the taste. I guess she liked it because she
finally swallowed. "Do you come here often?" I asked, which is not an intelligent
question. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow (telling me how stupid that sounded.)
"I mean, the Middle East? You travel a lot," I said, trying to recover.
"Yes, on business," she said, smiling. I guess she didn't take offense.
"Me too," I said, glad we'd find something 'sort of' in common. "It's the fringe benefit
of my job."
"Mine too," she agreed.
"I get to see some strange sights."
"I hope you aren't going to try to one up me about strange locales," she said. Her voice
was pleasantly pitched as she said it. She had a beautiful voice to go with her eyes. (I
can't believe I'm commenting on the beauty of her voice and her eyes when she has a
figure like that. Well, maybe it's a defense to keep her from taking offense and injuring
me).
"Ah, no. Strangest I've ever been is the really north of Canada, above the Arctic Circle.
Probably pretty tame for you. What is the strangest locale you've visited?"
"The moon," she said casually.
I stared.
"Really. It was my 17th birthday present from my dad. I'd finally gotten so I could hold
my breath long enough for the round trip so he took me." She bent forward
conspiratorially. "I'm still the only person to leave foot prints on the moon." She sat
back, satisfied.
"Ah, what about Apollo?"
She shook her finger at me. "Armstrong, and all the rest, left BOOT prints. I'm the only
one who went barefoot."
"Your dad?" I asked.
"Boots."
"Your mom?" I asked, knowing I was treading on shaky ground.
"Too much a lady to go getting moon dust between her toes. Just me."
"That's cool," I said.
She looked down and frowned to herself. "No. That's bragging. I shouldn't do that."
"It's not bragging if you can do it, and you can. You deserve to cut loose and brag every
now and then."
"Thanks," she said.
Another beer?" I offered.
"I'm still working on this one. But if you'd like I can buy you one."
I shook my head vigorously. "No. I'm having a great time talking to you. The least I can
do is spring for a couple of drinks."
"Thank you," she said. I guess not too many people have the nerve to just chat with her.
And then there's the fact that she doesn't have the time very often. And then, for just a
second, that persona of toughness she wears as though it's part of her uniform slipped and
I saw her real smile, and that's something I'll never forget. And then she put her 'mask'
back on.
"If you don't mind, though, I'm going to get another for me," I said.
"Sure."
I went and got a refill, hoping no one would take my seat before I got back. I could feel
lots of eyes following me.
When I got back no one had taken my seat. But just as I sat there was a tinkling sound
that seemed to be coming from Supergirl's cape. She reached behind her, felt around for
a second and then pulled out a...pager (now who'd have thought she carried one of those
in her cape, of all places. Um, where else would she carry it, though? I went back to
thinking about her eyes so I wouldn't offend her.)
"Code 666," she said looking at the pager after she'd stopped the alarm.
"666? We're being invaded by the anti-Christ?" I asked.
She made a face that was somewhere between a laugh and a blush. "Not an emergency,"
she announced, loud enough that anyone who could have heard the pager would hear the
comment. She looked at me and said quietly. "The numerals 6-6-6 correspond to the
letters on a phone of M-O-M." She looked chagrined as only young girl can. "She
worries about me." She tucked the pager back under her cape (or maybe in it) and
fumbled around a second before pulling out a cell phone, one of those really good global
ones.
She dialed with her thumb, so fast it was just a blur to me. I noticed that the phone
number she was dialing wasn't displayed. It rang and when the other end answered she
said, "It's me. Not secure on this end."
"...Yeah, I'm fine. Long day but we're making good progress and I'll be home soon."
"...I'm taking the night off. We need some parts that won't arrive until tomorrow."
"...Yes, Mom, I'll get my rest."
"...I love you too. Tell Dad I love him. Bye."
She hung up. She looked at me, "like I said, she worries. But it's nice of her to call."
I noticed something: her eyes kept going to the corner, which had a jukebox in it. I think
she may have been the only girl in the place (I know she was the only girl I was noticing).
The jukebox wasn't playing now. Was it possible she wanted to...
I took a deep breath. "This is probably a question I shouldn't ask, but would you like to
dance?"
"Why is it a question you shouldn't ask? I won't step on your feet and -I- won't notice if
you step on mine."
"Would you like to?"
"Yes," she said.
I groped for change.
"I'll get it," she said, "you got the drinks." And she fished in her cape again. What is
that thing? Her purse?
She found some change, went over to the corner and selected a couple of songs. She
walked back to me just as the first song began, 'Fly Me to the Moon'. I figured it was a
kind of joke on her part, I mean, she's been there and all. I smiled as I took her hands
and we began to dance. Normally I'm an indifferent dancer but tonight something just
clicked and we moved perfectly together. I didn't know if it's that she's a great partner,
that we were a matched pair or if the moon was in the right alignment for me to do well;
but it was great. As 'Fly Me to the Moon' wound down I put my head next to hers and,
smiling, commented "pretty song, a pun because you've been there?"
She looked surprised. "Actually it's nostalgia, it's the song I learned about dancing from.
My parents used to dance to it when I was young. ...It's their song, as a matter of fact."
That surprised me. Why would her parents have an earth song as their song? Wouldn't
they have some Kryptonian song as theirs?
The next song started. Something a little faster. To this day I can't remember what it
was because I was so lost in the pleasure of dancing with her. When it wound down I
couldn't help making a comment (to cover how desperately I was hoping there'd be a
next song). "You're very light on your feet."
Her face clouded up as she tried to suppress laughter. "I can't believe you said that," she
hissed, trying to keep her voice down.
"Why?" I asked, confused.
Various expressions of confusion crossed her face. Finally she said, "You really don't
know, do you?"
"What?"
"Look down."
I looked down and discovered our feet were six inches off the floor. I was holding her
hands for dancing and I tightened them in surprise (fortunately there was no danger I'd
grab her hand too hard). "How... How... How long has that been happening?"
She giggled (it sounded funny coming from her). "I'm not sure but I noticed it about half
way through 'Fly Me to the Moon'."
"Does this happen often?"
"I've never spontaneously air danced before, but my parents usually dance this way."
"Oh." Fortunately the third song she'd selected started at that point, saving me from
having to think of something to say.
I wanted it to never end...of course it did. As the last notes faded away they were
replaced by applause. The whole bar had been watching us. I blushed. Supergirl
brushed my cheek with a kiss and let us settle back to the floor. She didn't seem at all
bothered by the attention (considering she's one of the two most recognized people on the
planet this should not surprise me). "Again?" she asked.
I nodded. She smiled, grabbed for change in her cape and headed for the jukebox. I had
the sensation she was moving very fast but then I was experiencing some strange
sensations at the time. My knees were weak and my head was spinning...and I was really
enjoying both. She was back in a flash (or at least it felt that way). She took my hands,
the music started and we began to dance. About ten minutes later I remember to look,
and yes, we were at least six inches off the floor again, gliding back and forth in perfect
unison.
Later in the night I was vaguely aware that my legs were tired... and all the rest of me...
but I still didn't care, we just kept dancing. Every so often she'd put more coins in the
jukebox (and once she had to have the bar man break a bill). And once (just once)
someone tried to cut in on me. I reluctantly prepared to let go to her hands but she just
looked at him once (and I didn't want to be on the receiving end of that look) and said
"No" very firmly. He backed away. I was surprised that no one had tried to cut in before
that. I wasn't surprised no one tried after that. I still wondered if it was her intimidating
presence that kept people from trying to cut in before she indicated she didn't want to
change partners. I figured it was either extremely brave or incredibly foolish, and
probably the height of bravado, to ask her. But once she accepted what slowed everyone
else down?
Finally we glided to a stop. She looked at the clock and, I think, very softly sighed.
Then she gently lowered us to the floor and she turned to the barman. "Call last call," she
ordered, "and since everyone was so nice by not starting a fight or anything while I was
dancing, the last round is on me. Then it's time to head everyone home." There was a
little complaining but the round on her softened the pain...and no one was drunk enough
to argue with her.
I glanced at the clock and was amazed that it was a quarter of one AM. I was surprised
my knees were still attached to my legs after all that exercise. I knew was going to feel
this in the morning.
Supergirl bustled around getting everyone out. Apparently part of her job was making
sure everyone not only got home but got home safe. I walked out and headed for my
jeep, secure in the knowledge that I was certainly sober (unless you can get drunk on
dancing, and if anyone had a chance for that to happen it was I). Just as I got to the jeep,
there she was. She stood very close to me and said in a voice so quiet even I could barely
hear it, "Thank you for a wonderful evening. I haven't had so much fun in a long time."
I started to say 'you're welcome. So did I.' But she stopped me by stepping up to me and
giving me a gentle kiss on the lips. Who'd have thought someone so tough could have
lips so soft? Then she was flying off. I watched even after she was out of sight. Then
finally got into the jeep, sighed as the weight left my tired feet, and headed back to my
bunk and dreams of dancing on air.
= = = = =
It was the end of the week. I would be heading home soon, the fires were out thanks to
Supergirl's help. It wasn't as bad as it sounded, a condition of her help had been that we
were all paid for the time we would have worked if she hadn't helped. Pretty generous of
her since she didn't get paid at all. The companies, the governments, etc. saved money
on equipment not needed, the fires were out sooner and we were all paid a lot for a little
time (and no one got injured).
I was driving back towards the little building that acted as a barracks for myself and some
of the other experts (or had until they'd headed home, I was the only one left). I saw a
little speck in the sky. I assumed it was a buzzard or something (in retrospect, they'd be
kind of rare in the desert, wouldn't they?).
I don't know why I kept glancing up at that speck, other than I was in the middle of
nowhere and there wasn't much else to watch.
Suddenly something dark and sleek was rushing up at the dark speck I was watching.
When they collided (and it looked like they did collide) there was a flash of green light.
That was weird. Even in the Middle East they don't hunt buzzards with surface to air
missiles, do they?
The dark speck I'd been watching started to fall towards the earth, but not straight down
like a dead duck, but in a glide, still making forward progress even as it plummeted.
Which sort of mitigates against it being a buzzard shot down with a surface to air missile,
right? There wouldn't have been enough left of it to glide.
Whatever it was glided in jerky changes of course, its descent steepening as time
progressed. It seemed to be aiming for the road I was on, up ahead. Curiosity got the
better of me and I accelerated while keeping an eye on it, trying to estimate where it
would land. As I got closer to it, and it got closer to the ground, I saw it was bigger than
a buzzard. But I just couldn't figure out what it was, it just didn't make any sense.
Finally the 'speck' crashed next to the road 50 feet ahead of me and I could see what it
was and accept it, albeit incomprehensibly. I slammed on the brakes and skidded to a
stop in a haze of smoke and dust next to her. I took the jeep out of gear, didn't set the
parking brake, didn't turn off the ignition or take the keys, didn't turn on my hazard
blinkers. I did jump out and run to her.
She was doubled over at the side of the road holding her abdomen and shaking. Her
uniform and cape were covered with a green stain of some kind. I couldn't understand
what was happening to her. "Are you OK?" I asked then figuratively slapped my
forehead for asking, but didn't waste time actually do that. "Of course not. I've got a
jeep, do you want me to take you somewhere?"
"Yes," she managed to say, through teeth clenched against pain.
"I'll help you to the jeep." I grabbed her shoulders and tugged. I don't think much
happened. After a few seconds she staggered up and, with me pulling, moved towards
the jeep. Once she stumbled and her weight came down on me, it felt like a quarter ton
sand bag fell on me (it did once, don't ask). But she caught her footing and we didn't
fall. I concentrated on just keeping us going in the correct direction. She concentrated on
moving each foot after the other.
Eventually we got to the jeep. She fell half into the passenger seat and the suspension
listed oddly, like she were forcing it down heavily. I tried to lift her legs into the foot
wells and then settled for doing it one foot at a time while she tried to help, groaning with
effort.
I jumped into the driver's seat and put it in gear. "Do you know where you want to go?"
I asked.
She shook her head.
I floundered for a few seconds. "My place? It's got shelter, water, food..."
She muttered "Yeah," and concentrated on breathing.
I was getting worried. I floored the jeep, which complained like a spurred horse, bucked
like one too, and then took off. It felt so much like a horse that if I hadn't been so
worried about her I'd have yelled "Hi-ho Silver."
It's fifteen minutes to get to the shack/cottage/nameless-desert-building I was billeted in.
I got there in five. I don't think the wheels touched the ground more than fifty percent of
the last 1500 feet. I parked in the little lean to shed next to the house (it's a carport with a
door. It's supposed to keep the sand out. It doesn't.) I killed the ignition with it still in
gear and jumped out.
I tugged at her shoulder again and she was even slower to move. As she got out of the
jeep the suspension, that had been at an odd angle the entire trip, and pulling to the right,
leveled itself. I tugged her in the direction of the kitchen door and she did her best to
stagger that way.
When we finally got in she knelt down on the floor panting. "What do we do now?" I
asked, and then was horrified to realize she had collapsed, apparently fainted, the sounds
of little gasps coming from her mouth. I was in trouble now: I'd have to figure out what
to do. I started to try to loosen her cape while I thought. Whatever had happened to her
there couldn't be many people who'd know how to help her, I'd need someone like her
father. Then, with my hand fumbling with her cape, enlightenment hit. I turned her cape
inside out and felt the lining, quickly finding a large number of Velcro-ed pockets. There
were a bunch of them, from one that looked like it would hold a tube of lipstick to an
empty one that looked like it could hold a paperback book.
I ripped open the tab on the right size pocket and found her cell phone. I said a quick
prayer (that it wasn't broken in the fall, that the battery was charged, that she didn't call
very many people). And hit redial.
A few seconds later a voice answered in English, "Hello"?
I froze. What if she'd just ordered pizza or something? What if this was some secret
government organization? And how did I explain what I needed and who I was looking
for? It wasn't like I even knew the name of the person I was trying to call. And how
would I prove I wasn't a crank? So I said, "Is this... is this code 6-6-6?"
There was a couple second pause then "Yes, this is Mom."
I said everything in one long confused sentence, "She's in trouble, there was a missile or
something and she fell and she seems to be in pain and she's got green stuff on her and
she gasping-"
"Stop babbling!" ordered the voice on the other end.
"Oh."
"Three things: One: Don't Panic. It doesn't help. Panic later. Two: Where are you?"
"I'm, I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself, I'm-"
"Not who! Where! In case we get cut off how do I find you?"
I told her and she cut me off when I started to go into too much detail.
"We can find that. Three: If she's as you describe then look around for a - well - for a
rock. It's probably green but not necessarily. It's probably crystalline. It does glow in
the dark..."
I looked at the green dust on her uniform. I cupped my hand over part on the cape and it
did seem brighter in the shadow of my hand than I'd have expected. "She's covered with
green powder, " I said, "and it seems to glow-"
"Does it look like she breathed any of it?" demanded the voice on the phone.
I looked at her. "No, it's mainly over her torso and back, not near her mouth of nose."
I heard an audible sigh of relief. "Try to get that stuff away from her, but remember:
anything it gets on is contaminated for her. I'll be there soon." And the phone went
dead.
I looked at her, lying there, in pain, passed out. I wasn't sure what to do so I figured I'd
start by getting rid of the green stuff on her cape by getting rid of the cape. Except I
couldn't figure out how to get the cape off. I struggled with it for over a minute.
The door opened and a figure rushed in. Female, slim, petite with dark hair and a lot of
presence. She rushed in and I immediately knew she was in charge. She looked around,
saw Supergirl on the floor, and ran over to kneel at her head. "Honey? It's me. You're
going to be OK."
Supergirl roused a little, or maybe she had been awake all along and just conserving her
strength. "'Hurts," she managed to say.
"It'll be OK soon," she reassured the stricken superheroine. She quickly pulled one of
those little surgical masks over Supergirl's mouth and nose and began removing the cape
I'd been struggling with. She tossed it aside. "We need to get her uniform off her and
clean off the Kryptonite dust."
I looked at her aghast, I certainly didn't belong here while she was undressed (not that I
wouldn't want to see, just that I didn't want to offend her, she's been too nice to me).
"M-m-maam, I don't-"
"There are some supplies outside, go get them. The gray box is made of lead, it's heavy,
don't hurt yourself on it."
I ran out through the door she'd left open, found the box she'd mentioned and a satchel. I
grabbed the satchel, brought it back, and left it next to the woman. Then I went back and
got the box, which weighed about 80 pounds, and brought it back too.
I made a dash into my bedroom and found a pair of clean shorts and a t-shirt and brought
them back too. I walked backward into the room, looking away. "I've got some clothes
that she can use, they'll be at least large enough, which is to say too big-"
"Thanks, I forgot to bring her a change of street clothes. Just put them on the counter
where they'll stay clean and then you can step out, if it'll make you more comfortable,
until she's dressed.
I stepped out and closed the door and stood there waiting. It felt like forever but was
probably only a couple of minutes when she called me back in. Supergirl was still lying
there but now was dressed in my spare casual clothes. It was a strange sight seeing her in
anything other than her uniform. I had a fleeting thought of wondering if she ever
dressed this way to pass among normal mortals but I let it go. "Is she all right?" I asked.
The woman was busy cleaning up things. Gathering the uniform and sponging down
everything in sight. "She'll be fine, but she's tired and a bit weak. She isn't used to
being either of those things." She started to put things away in the lead box.
It wasn't until the woman had placed Supergirl's uniform in the gray box and sealed it,
with an audible sigh of relief that it was done, that an obvious question occurred to me.
"Excuse me, but why does that stuff make your daughter sick but not affect you?"
She looked at me, measuring me I think, and finally replied. "You'd figure this out in a
few minutes anyways, so I'll tell you, but I'd still prefer this not become public
knowledge. Kryptonite, the green glowing stuff, affects my daughter but not me
because...because my daughter is half human. I'll leave it to you to figure out which
half." She took a glass of water and knelt next to her daughter to see if she could drink
yet, while I thought. If her daughter, who was obviously also the daughter of the
Kryptonian Superman, was half human then she had to be the human part. Which meant
a human and a Kryptonian had had a child.
I stared at her in utter confusion, much to her amusement. Finally I managed to stutter,
"h-h-how..."
"How did we have a daughter?" she finished for me, amused. "You look a little old for
me to have to explain the birds and the bees..."
"No. I mean how did...?"
"How did a human and a non-human have a child together, in contradiction of basic
biology? I don't know either...it still confuses my obstetrician, and he's the world's
greatest expert on kryptonian physiology. Of course, he's the world's only expert on
kryptonian physiology."
"No, I mean how...how did you...survive the honeymoon?"
"Ohhhh, " she said, with dawning comprehension, and a wicked sense of humor. "OK,
I'll answer. You see, I survived the honeymoon, as you tactfully put it, which no other
woman on earth could have done, because I am so close to my husband that hurting me
would be like hurting himself. As long as he doesn't become masochistic I should be
perfectly safe. It's worked so far."
'Hurting her would be like hurting himself.' That was so poetic, and romantic. What a
lovely way to say he loved her. I wasn't sure that fully explained her 'survival', but this
really wasn't any of my business.
She interrupted my revere. "Speaking of whom..." She went to over the outside door and
opened it. I was there wondering who we'd been speaking of when she called out
"Honey? You can come in now."
There was a rush of wind and suddenly Superman was there, filling the doorway. I'd
never met him though I have seen pictures of him, I even owned the standard poster of
him when I was younger. He's a lot more solid in person. I don't know how to explain
it. He just filled the door even though I know he's not really that tall.
He glanced once at his wife (with a smile of affection on his lips). He glanced once at me
(and managed not to frighten me to death). The he looked at his daughter and in just a
second had crossed the floor to kneel next to her. He lifted her up and hugged her to him.
After several seconds of holding her he was able to get out the words, "Are you okay?"
"I'm OK," she said, her voice sounding very tired. She hugged him back and they just
held each other for several more seconds, reassuring each other. "Can I go out in the
sunlight?" she finally asked.
"Sure, Honey," he said, picked her up and carried her out.
His wife watched them go, amused by how tender he looked, I think. I watched too,
amazed at how tender he was...and how much his love for her showed. After that I
puttered around the kitchen for a while. Mrs. Superman helped, she made sandwiches. (I
am not going to say I observed anything negative about her cooking skills, I'm not
stupid). Finally I asked "It's hot out there. Should I bring her a glass of water?"
She gave me another of those measuring looks and then nodded, "Yes."
I filled a glass with cold water (as cold as a tap in the middle of the desert produces)
added ice and went outside. Supergirl was leaning against the building on the sunny side.
Her sleeves and jeans were both rolled up. "I brought you something to drink. Aren't
you going to burn?" I asked.
She took the glass and began sipping the water. "No. I don't burn, I just absorb the light.
This feels good."
"Where's your dad?" I asked.
"I sent him to find out who did this and what's going on," she answered, handing back
the empty glass.
"Would you like more water?"
"Yes, please."
So I went and got another glass of water. After she drank it she declined more. I turned
to go back.
"Please," she asked, "will you stay and keep me company?" She sounded lonely, and
just maybe a little scared.
"Sure," I said, sitting down next to her, being careful not to block her sunlight. We sat
there for a little while, not saying anything. After a while I reached over and patted her
hand. Before I could get my hand away she caught it and just held it gently. Well, if she
wanted to hold onto my hand I wasn't going to argue.
We sat there all afternoon. Her mother brought me a hat and some sunscreen so I
wouldn't burn while her daughter never burns. We didn't talk much. Towards late
afternoon I commented that it was pretty out and she agreed. Somehow we didn't need
many words, it was nice just being there.
When the sun had gone down (desert sunsets are boring but you can't beat the company I
had) we went inside. It would be getting cold soon and she had gotten all the benefit the
direct sun would give until morning (though I suppose Superman could fly her a few time
zones west if she really needed more).
Superman was inside, talking to his wife. He seemed rather angry. That's a scary sight.
I got nervous and separated my hand from Supergirl's. I didn't want to be a target for
that anger. She let go but, it may have been my imagination, she seemed reluctant.
"You found something out?" she asked her father.
"Yes. The people who shot you publicly claimed credit." I saw anger deep in his eyes. I
knew what that meant, it meant you do not hurt his little girl. "Apparently, they were
preparing to attack me and you were a target of opportunity."
"They were gunning for you?" She asked, anger audible in her voice. "I don't know what
bother's me more: that they weren't gunning for me or that they were gunning for YOU."
She thought about it and then added "I do know." Something told me it was the second
point that bothered her more.
Supergirl's mother tried to calm things down. "As long as everyone is OK then it all
worked out."
"No it's not OK," interjected Supergirl immediately.
"It is definitely unacceptable," agreed Superman. "I will have to spend a little time
settling this..."
"Hey, as the injured party I expect some input into this action."
"You know you won't be able to do anything about this until some time tomorrow at the
earliest. You know the stories about Kryptonite poisoning."
"So we'll wait a until tomorrow and then I'll do something about 'talking' to the people
who did this."
"Maybe waiting until tomorrow is a good idea," offered Mrs. Superman. I got the feeling
she figured that their sleeping on it before going after the people was a good idea.
Supergirl and Superman traded looks and then quietly agreed.
"You're welcome to stay the night," I offered. "There's plenty of space," since everyone
else had already left. "But you might want your usual bed." As soon as I said that I
started wondering if Kryptonian's slept in beds. Or did they just float in mid air? For
that matter, did they sleep? There are so many things that just aren't commonly known
about the superheroes' lives.
I think Superman was starting to decline when I heard Supergirl say, "Thank you." He
looked surprised. I was surprised. I didn't have the nerve to look and see if her mother
seemed surprised. But hey, if she wants to stay she's more than welcome to. "I'll get
some towels and make up beds," I said.
As I walked down the hall I heard Superman ask her, "Are you sure?'
She replied, "I'm sure. I just need to rest some. Here is good for that." Very softly she
added, "I like it here." Then louder, just as I walked out of voice range, "Tomorrow,
when I'm rested, I'll have to let the people with that missile know what I think of it,
pointedly shall we say."
I didn't hear his reply. By the time I got back with the linens and finished making up one
single and one double bed they had stopped discussing it. She looked determined. He
looked resigned and determined (resigned about her insistence on being involved and
determined that he was also going to make a 'pointedly' point). Mrs. Superman wore an
expression I had trouble interpreting. I think it was 'concern'. But I'm not sure what she
was thinking.
Supergirl, tired and unused to being tired, turned in early. I think Superman decided to
stand watch and make sure nothing approached (which made me feel a lot better). I took
a shower, put some cream on my skin where I'd sunburned in spite of the sun block and
crawled into bed.
I got up bright and early, determined to make a hearty breakfast for everyone. When I
got to the kitchen I saw I was too late because Superman was stirring pancake batter,
Mrs. Superman was doing something with orange juice and Supergirl was setting the
table. I was surprised by Superman cooking, who knew he knew how to do that? I
wasn't even sure he ate (though as I thought about it I thought I'd seen him on the news
attending a U.N. banquet).
Mrs. Superman noticed my look and explained with a sigh, "He's actually a very good
cook. I've improved since we married but I can still burn water. I leave cooking to
them." She must have noticed my strange look. "What?" she asked.
"Well," I began, "I can understand him having a power to burn water, or her doing it, but
for anyone else? ...That's impressive."
She giggled a little, "figuratively! Figuratively I can burn water...and most cookware I
can burn practically." She looked over at her daughter, "Watch it," she warned about me,
"He's got a really sharp sense of humor...almost as sharp as mine...I think I like it."
Supergirl looked amused, which oddly pleased me.
Breakfast was excellent. I considered asking for the recipe for those pancakes but I'm
not a super cook so I decided not to. After we'd all eaten and I'd done the dishes, (I
insisted on doing my part) I sat with Supergirl as she absorbed sunlight again.
We chatted about little things. It was peaceful and pleasant. Then in the middle of my
telling her a joke she suddenly put her palms against either side of her head. "Please,"
she said, "don't say anything for a minute."
"Is there something wrong..." I started to ask but she hushed me, her eyes closed as
though she had a headache.
She held her head like that for about ten seconds then she sighed and relaxed. "Sorry
about that," she said. "I'm beginning to get my powers back."
"And...?" I asked, not understanding her behavior.
"One of the first powers a Kryptonian on Earth gets is enhanced hearing. But when it
first cuts in it's overwhelming. I just got it back and it was like the first time: very loud."
She leaned back, basked in the sunlight and seemed to think. Perhaps she was
reminiscing about other things that had happened to her. She must have had an
interesting life. Then she frowned. After frowning and thinking for several seconds she
finally spoke. "I hope...I hope that this doesn't mean I'm going to go through ALL the
events that occurred when each power manifested."
"Problems?" I asked.
"Oh, just a lot of little accidents, things that happen when you suddenly have a power and
no experience or even warning. Ripping doors off their hinges. Accidentally x-ray
visioning a friend. Oops! Starting a few minor fires when heat vision starts to work. I
don't want to have to go through that all over again."
= = = = =
It was mid-afternoon, the hottest time of the day. Superman had gone out for a while and
come back. He hadn't said where he was going, I hadn't asked, and I knew it was
sensible that I didn't want to know where he'd gone.
Supergirl nodded at him, a curt nod that just screamed 'NOW'. "I'm back to full power.
Let's go find who did this to me." There was something about how she said it that I
interpreted as "who tried to do this to you and did it to me instead." I'm very relieved
I'm not the one she wanted to go find.
"Sure you want to do it now? We could wait until tomorrow. It'd give you a chance to
rest."
"You can wait until tomorrow if you want," she said. He looked surprised. "but I'll be
done by then," she added.
Superman considered for a few seconds and I could actually watch as he decided she
meant it and that since he wanted to do be involved he'd have to do it now. He nodded.
"What did you find out about who did this?" she asked.
"Credit got taken by two different terrorist organizations. One of them strikes me as
implausible. The other is possible but not definite..." superman said, as they walked out
the door.
I looked at Mrs. Superman. "Will they be able to handle this?" I asked.
She nodded and said, "Yes." But she seemed uneasy to me.
"Quickly?"
"Hard to say. If they knew where to look they'd be done by now-"
I raised an eyebrow.
"They can fly really fast," she explained. "Because they have to find where to go first it
may take a while. We should keep track of their progress."
"How?"
"The same way everyone else does. By watching television."
This didn't completely make sense to me, but I turned on the television.
"Set it to CNN," she told me.
I changed channels. I didn't see anything informative about the price of soybeans on the
Chicago mercantile exchange. Which was almost immediately interrupted by a special
report from the Middle East. It seems that Superman and Supergirl were making a bit of
noise...actually a lot of noise, about what you hear when buildings collapse...which they
were (with a little help).
"ummm..." I finally asked, "would you check something for me? Your husband doesn't
care if people attack him, but they hurt his little girl, which he does not think is OK.
Your daughter doesn't mind if people attack her, but they wanted to hurt her father and
she doesn't accept that either. So normally they'd be perfectly calm or one would try to
calm the other down...but instead they're both angry now."
Mrs. Superman had been watching the television intently, but my question pulled her
away, a little. "You're very insightful," she finally said. "And I can't think of any force
on Earth that can stop them."
"Force won't stop them, so you'll have," I said.
"Are you kidding, you know I can't force them to stop," she snapped.
"I know. So do something subtle, before someone gets hurt."
"I am not that subtle. If you can think of a subtle way, let me know about. Please!"
"Well, they wouldn't hurt someone who has already surrendered and been taken into
custody. All we need to do is warn people to turn themselves in." I paused, looked at the
television and winced as Superman punctuated his point, with a Kryptonian fist. "And
we need to hurry. But I don't know how to get the word out."
She considered for just a second then fished in her purse for her cell phone. "I think I
know someone who can get the word out...but could I have a little privacy to make a
call?"
I nodded. "I'll be waiting in the car port. Let me know when you're done." I headed for
the door while she hit the speed dial on her cell phone. I only heard one word of her
conversation as the door cut it off. That word sounded like 'Jimmy.'
I waited about ten minutes. Which I whiled away trying to get something on the jeep's
radio (so that the static would drown out any more of the conversation).
Finally she called me back in. "I called a friend of mine who is a reporter," she said.
(Must be Jimmy I deduced.) "She called her editor." (oops, I guess not Jimmy, after all).
"And he's going to get the word out."
"Very subtle...which is to be expected."
She gave me a strange look (I think she gave me a strange look, I had turned to watch the
television). The news coverage had seemingly split: part was now on Superman and
Supergirl who were grimly seeking who had attacked her; the other part was an
announcement trying to make clear how much trouble whoever did this was in.
Combined with the footage I would have been scared. They also made a point of it that
being in custody was about the only thing that could be expected to protect someone from
a superhero who's little girl has been hurt and a superheroine who's father was the target.
It must have worked, because pretty soon there was a rush to turn themselves in. Not
only did the guilty parties turn themselves in, but people who might have been suspected
of being guilty turned themselves in just to be safe. The police departments had to call in
off duty officers to process all the people turning themselves in. The news announcement
not only got terrorists off the streets, statistics showed there was even a drop in general
street crime.
An hour later Superman and Supergirl were back. She said thank you and good bye (and
I think she might have kissed me if her father hadn't been watching, but he was, like a
hawk). They picked up Mrs. Superman and flew off.
I went outside and waved good-bye. Once they were out of sight I went back in and got a
drink of cold water (it's a desert thing).
The next day she was back at work putting out the last of the oil well fires. A couple of
days after that they were all out and people headed home.
= = = = =
It was a week after the terrorists turned themselves in. I was back in Metropolis. I had
resumes in the mail, money in my wallet...and a persistent thought in my mind. It was
even in my dreams. I just couldn't get my mind off her.
Friday I walked down the street, looked to my left and saw something that might finally
help me let go: A florist's shop. The perfect way to get a girl off my mind...because
every time I've sent a girl flowers it's backfired and we immediately broke up. It should
be even easier this time because there's no breaking up to do.
I stepped inside. Do I know how to pick them? I guess not because the florist's shop was
a disaster. It looked like it had been picked over and the only things left an aphid would
have rejected. So I said I wanted some flowers for a girl who just recovered from being
sick (that honest, right?). The harried clerk suggested a dozen yellow roses since they
stand for friendship (well, I can't really claim anything more than that, I don't even know
if I can claim that much). Then the only yellow roses left in the shop were...slightly
wilted. And there were only eleven of them. I seriously considered just leaving when the
clerk, recognizing a nearly lost sale came up with something.
I didn't even know they had purple roses. But to make a dozen the clerk combined the
eleven yellow roses with the one odd purple one. You know what? It looked great.
Somehow the slightly wilted yellow roses made the purple one look even more special,
and the purple flower made the yellow roses look better. When the clerk offered the
dozen at the price for eleven yellow roses I smelled a bargain and bought them.
I was outside on the street when I realized I didn't know how to send them to her. Dooh!
So there I am carrying a box of flowers with no idea what to do. I went to the top of a
parking garage to think. I often do that. I like it up there. The blowing air, the great
view...the cheap admission if you just walk up. I went up there and thought.
What was I going to do with this box of flowers? There is no really simple way to send
Superman or Supergirl a package. Supposedly you can send it to the Metropolis post
office. You used to be able to send it to the Daily Planet care of Superman. I don't know
how you send something to Supergirl. In frustration I started to talk to myself "What am
I supposed to do? How do you send her a package? Stand on a really tall building a yell
'Help, Superman, I've got a package for your daughter?'"
"That'll work," said a calm voice behind me.
I whirled and there was Superman standing right behind me. I jumped. "I'm s-s-sorry
sir," I stammered. "I was just thinking out loud trying to-"
"I heard," he said, friendily. "You're trying to figure out how to send a package to my
daughter." He looked at the box. "Interesting choice of colors..."
Now what was that supposed to mean I wondered, before I remembered he could see
through the box if he wanted to. "ah, yes. It's not very appropriate to ask you to-"
"Who else are you going to ask?" He glanced at the box again. "You should include a
note."
"I really don't think-" I started to say, very quickly.
"Girls like it when you do things like that...trust me." He fished in his cape and pulled
out a notebook and three pens.
I wondered why he carried things like that. I mean, I've heard him called the world's
biggest Boy Scout, but doesn't that mean he'd carry a pocketknife, not a notebook?
He folded back a used section and handed it to me along with a pen. I started to write,
not really planning what to say. 'I hope you are feeling better. Here are some flowers, I
hope you like them. I hope you don't mind my sending them to you but I really enjoyed
meeting you.
I read back what I had written. "It sounds kind of 'hope-y'," I commented.
He shrugged with a little smile (which I thought was very human and thus very strange).
"It's minor babbling, nothing compared to the babbling of a master, but she'll like it," he
reassured me.
That sounded strange too, but I didn't say so.
He tucked the notebook and pen in his cape, tucked the note in the flower box, nodded
his good-bye and took to the sky. I watched him soar away. I figured I should feel
better. Now that I'd sent flowers to a girl I couldn't get out of my mind. ...I didn't f eel
better, and I couldn't get her out of my mind. I just kept thinking I should have sprung
for better flowers.
The next day, after a round of job interviews and trying to get my bank account straighten
out from the pretzel the bank's computer had put it in, I was walking down the street
when I heard a voice say "Hi". It wasn't a particularly nice neighborhood and while I
wasn't particularly scared about this area, I was cautious. I looked quickly to see who
had said that, the adrenalin beginning to pump so I could either fight or run, and there she
was: the girl in my dreams. I quickly squashed those thoughts and substituted: there was
Supergirl, standing in an alley.
"Hi," I responded with scintillating conversational skills, when the zap of our eyes
meeting had worn off.
She beckoned. I hesitated, why did she want me in an alley? But if she wanted to
overpower me she could easily drag me into the alley, so I stepped in.
Once I was out of sight of the street she seemed to relax. "Thank you for the flowers,"
she said, with a warm smile. "They were lovely."
I mentally winced as I remembered that the yellow flowers had been a little wilted.
"You're welcome." I was trying to think of more conversation to make but she seemed
to have something in mind so I remained silent.
"I got something for you-" she said, reaching into her cape.
I know my eyes widened. I didn't know what to expect. "You didn't have_" I started to
say.
She pulled out a CD case wrapped in colorful paper and handed it to me. "Because of
track 3," she said, "And because most people don't treat me like a person."
I raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"People don't treat me as 'just' a person. They don't buy me a beer or ask me to dance or
hold my hand and watch a sunset. And they definitely don't send me eleven yellow roses
for friendship and one purple for something special. Someone one who will hold my
hand and watch a sunset is something special." She paused. "So, what else do you do?"
"uhh...I could offer you a ride on my motorcycle, but it's broken. How about, I'll offer
you a ride on my motorcycle as soon as it's fixed?" I felt pretty silly ask her, who could
fly around the world in minutes and had been to the moon, a ride on a 'cycle but it's all
that came to mind.
She tilted her head a looked at me. "I'll see your offer a raise it: let me help fix it."
"ah...help?"
"Another thing most people don't know is that I'm mechanically inclined. I actually
know which end of a screwdriver to hold and what a clutch does. Tell me when a good
time is and I'll bring over my tools and help you fix it, then you can give me a ride."
"Tomorrow's Saturday. I'm off-"
"It's a date!" she said eagerly, then she realized how she'd worded it and rephrased it as
"It's a day..."
I told her where and we picked a time. And then she lifted off. It was a weird feeling
knowing I had a date, or at least an appointment, with her, but it left a warm feeling in my
insides.
= = = = =
I played the CD that night. Track 3 was "Fly me to the moon". It made me feel lonely,
like the only other person in the world was all the way on the moon. Who knows, maybe
she was.
= = = = =
Ten AM Saturday morning I was up, showered, shaved (which I normally don't do on
Saturday, but I had company coming) and I had pulled out my Cycle, found the manual
and opened my toolbox. I really didn't know if she'd show, or if an emergency would
come up and she'd be rescuing flood victims in China or something.
I was just finishing resorting my socket set when I noticed a young woman walking along
the sidewalk. She was wearing shorts, sneakers and a cropped sweatshirt. She had her
hair held back by both a headband and a scrunchy (overkill). She had a lot of dangly
jewelry at her neck, ears and wrists. Her eyes were covered by oversize sunglasses. I
looked at her but I didn't really pay attention, until she started to walk up my driveway.
I was a little irritated. What did she want? I was expecting company and she wasn't it. I
wondered what Supergirl would think when she got here if another woman was here.
Who was this girl? I looked at her more closely but I didn't really notice anything. She
was pretty shapely but she had on too much makeup and too much jingly jewelry. I now
had too conflicting questions. Who was this and where was Supergirl?
Then it occurred to me that I might not be expecting this woman but I was expecting a
woman, it couldn't be... I looked more closely. No it wasn't- wait a sec. I looked really
hard, noting details and trying to subtract the clothing and makeup and stuff. It was! It
was Supergirl, just in a disguise.
I smiled. "That's incred-"
She put a finger to her lips telling me to stop. Then
