Super Power

I closed my box, hiding away my collection of comic books. I caught a glimpse of myself in the dusty old mirror as I stood up. I was blushing. It was as if I was a teenager again, hiding my collection of pornography from my mother. I smiled just as door handle bent down and Melissa entered the room.

“There you are Michael, what on earth are you up to?”

Melissa stood framed in the doorway, the glow from the light in the passage creating an angelic halo around her shapely body.

“Hey, Hon’, awake so soon? Did I wake you while scratching around up here?”

I moved towards her and kissed her pampered face.

“No, it wasn’t you. There was a phone-call; some fool dialled the wrong number.”

She placed her arms on my shoulder and searched my eyes. “What are you doing up here anyway?”

The attic was like most attics, a storage space long neglected of tidying and cleaning.
A congregation of items long forgotten by their owners, a storehouse of memories, secrets and stories. I scanned the room. “I just came up here to find an old gift that my grandmother gave me, my old journal.”

“Did you find it?”

“No, I hope that it’s not one of the items I threw away when I moved here from the old apartment.”

“Well, is it needed urgently or can we have supper first. I am famished. I will help you find it later.” She headed downstairs without waiting for my answer.

I closed the door of the attic and went downstairs. It made no sense to me why I did not want Melissa to know that I was going through my comic collection. I sat at the table as Melissa poured wine into our glasses. I said grace and we began to eat. She spoke of her plans for the next day, shopping, hair, and a few other things that although I smiled and answered, I really did not hear. Why did I suddenly remember my journal? Though the need never existed before, having used it as an excuse I realised I did want to find it.

“Michael would you like that?” Melissa held my hand capturing my attention.

“What was that dear?” was all I managed in response.

“Where were you? Did you hear a word I said?”

I smelt it in the air. A sick metallic stench poisoned the air. An argument was in-store.

“What’s wrong Michael, you never listen anymore? I give you everything I have and you don’t even care.” She went on ranting, clearing he dishes as I chewed my food. The dishwasher door slammed shut. The tap flowed violently. I just sat there. I had no energy to fight with her anymore. It was impossible for me to blame her though so I stopped arguing. She was who she always was. I had changed.

Later that night while I read the newspaper Melissa came down the stairs in a black robe. She was very apologetic. I sat up and folded the newspaper to give her my full attention not wanting a repeat of earlier events. She undid the knot that held her robe closed and exposed her sensuous body gift wrapped in black lingerie. It was not long before the two of us were in my bed naked, fucking like animals and in truth that all that it had become. It was pure carnal pleasure there was no love anymore.

Melissa fell asleep. I got out of bed, lit a cigarette, and headed downstairs. I sat at the window and stared at the night sky. Each star was a symbol of a dream as I counted them hoping to fall asleep. I could not sleep no matter how much I tried. I tiptoed into my bedroom, pulled on a pair on a pair of jeans and went back to the attic. I had to find that journal. I searched the whole night until dawn before I found it. It was in an old plastic bag under some old books in an old box that once housed a Pentium two processor.

I opened my journal and read the message my grandmother wrote on the inside of the front cover:

Dear Michael. May you realise your Super Power like all your comic book heroes. Never stop dreaming. Never stop trying to realise those dreams. And never settle for anything but happiness. Love Gran.

I flipped through the pages until I came across one that was highly decorated with my doodles. It read:

I want to be a graphic novelist, just like Stan Lee.

The entry as dated 02 June 1996. I was fourteen years old. I read a few more pages of the journal but along with the discovery of the journal, I discovered sleep. I slept for about an hour before I had to wake again to the usual routine of shampoo, shower, and shave. I put on my suite and ate my bran. I kissed Melissa goodbye and drove my silver Mercedes C class to work. All through the day, I could only think of the journal, my grandmother’s message in it and me wanting to be a graphic novelist. When did I abandon that dream to become an accountant? At lunch, I went for coffee at the Star Bucks across the street from the office. I sat with coffee and doodled on a serviette as I passed the hour. It had been ages since I drew anything. I found that it was also the first time in a long time that I was happy.

That evening I went through my old journal again and read the dreams of a child long lost. Sketches and character profiles created long ago. Dreams long forgotten, dreams sacrificed. When I got to the last entry a flood of memories returned.

Dad is very sick. He called me into his room today and told me to grow up. He told me to forget all this silly children stuff, that I must grow up and be a man. He told me to forget about Superman and Spiderman. He said they don’t exist and that super powers lie in waking up everyday and working hard for those you loved.

The entry was dated 13 January 1997. The next day my father passed away.

It occurred to me that the reason I hid my comic books was that I felt guilty about them as if by reading them I was failing my father. Melissa was at her apartment that evening. We spent at least two nights a week apart, supposedly to avoid complacency but we both knew it was because neither of us was truly committed to the relationship. That night I wrote two letters. One was my resignation from the firm of Hoffman and Piers Accountants and the other was for Melissa.

The next day, I went into the firm and handed in my resignation. Before I left home, I placed Melissa’s note on the pillow on my bed, for her to read that evening when she got home from work. The letter read:

Dear Melissa

I have not been there for this relationship for the last few months and for that, I am truly sorry. Mum’s death however made me realise that I was not happy with my life and it made me analyse everything. I am sorry that I hurt you in trying to deal with my own personal turmoil. I have resigned from Hoffman and Piers and have taken a flight to Johannesburg, South Africa to visit some family. I will be gone for an indefinite amount of time. I paid the rent on the house for the next three months and the Merc is in the garage.

I am sorry about telling you all of this in a letter but I didn’t want to argue about this. I am leaving to find a dream and wish you all the happiness.

Yours no more
Michael

Journal entry: 14 April 2006

This week I signed my first book deal and opened the doors to my own comic book collectables store. Both, the book and the store are called ‘Super Powers’. My grandmother’s wish for me is fulfilled. Accounting made me wealthy but now I am happy. I have discovered my dreams. I realise that my father was wrong. It is not childish to follow a dream, but in giving up on that dream, a man becomes incomplete.