“Relax, she’s making you look good,” said Avie. “The media loves America’s Nuclear-Powered Hero. Look, you even got to meet the new President-Elect of the United States—here’s a picture of you with him at a photo-op in front of the Jefferson Memorial. And there’s Grandma Seedy in the background. Soon you’ll all be hanging out in the Oval Office with that Childe Hassam painting of the flags waving over Fifth Avenue. Isn’t that exciting?”
“It won’t be me and the Childe Hassam,” I said. “I’ll still be an overworked teaching assistant here at Warren Woodward University in Detroit.”
“Look on the bright side,” said Avie, holding up a clipping. “Ms. Megaton Man’s already earned herself her first fan—this Virginia Vega girl worships you. Look at all the hard work she’s doing, keeping track of your amazing career.”
“That’s the other problem,” I said. “I can’t seem to break it to Virginia that I’m not really Ms. Megaton Man—at least not the Ms. Megaton Man that she’s following in the media. Virginia’s too invested in being in on my secret that she refuses to believe there’s a second Ms. Megaton Man from another reality doing all these amazing things. When I try to tell her, ‘Virginia, I’m not the Ms. Megaton Man you think I am,’ she just winks and me and says, ‘Oh, I get it, heh-heh. All you Megaheroes have to tell white lies to protect your secret identities.’ Then she gives me a thumbs up and says, ‘Gotcha!’”
“I think that’s just darling,” said Avie. “Virginia’s got a fan-crush on you.”
“She’ll be heartbroken when she realizes her TA wasn’t the same person making all these headlines,” I said. “Avie, I feel like I’m taking credit for stuff I haven’t earned. I’m living a lie.”
“I don’t know what you’re so worked up about,” said Avie. “Clarissa Too has your identical personality and sensibilities—she’s not doing anything you wouldn’t do, if you had the time. You’re a good person and you want to help people; Clarissa Too has the same instincts.”
“She’s even better than me,” I complained. “Mama even likes her better, too. Clarissa Too doesn’t hardly swear, she goes to church twice on Sundays—a real Baptist church, not the Holistic-Humanist congregation—and I don’t think she’s ever even kissed a girl. She’s never smoked pot or drank to inebriation or anything.”
“She also knows how to drive a car,” said Avie. “Guess what—she’s driving us all to Ann Arbor for Thanksgiving.”
“Thanksgiving?” I said. “I didn’t know we had plans.”
“Sure, Preston told Mama that Stella’s inviting us all. We’re all having Thanksgiving on Ann Street. Clarissa Too is coming along. Won’t that be nice?”
“Nobody tells me anything anymore,” I replied. “See? I’ve become a fifth wheel in my own life.”
The Ann Street house was filled with warm smells as the turkey cooked in the oven. Clarissa Too was getting along with Stella better than I had recently, helping with salad and breads, and she was even getting along fine with Dana, who came separately. Mama was delighted to be with her two daughters, Avie and Clarissa Too; it was almost like I wasn’t there. Preston was on hand as well, appearing stag. It was like I was invisible.
Trent came out to me in the living room, where I was watching TV by myself. “It’s going to be another hour before they have everything ready,” he said. “Want to take a walk? Simon wants to visit the playground by his daycare center.”
“Are you talking to me?” I said. “I wasn’t sure whether this was even my reality anymore.”
Trent laughed. “Your haircut does make you look different,” he said. He ran his fingers over my short-cropped coiffure. “I kind of like it; it’s you. C’mon, grab your coat.”
It was a cool, crisp, sunny afternoon outdoors. We walked west along Ann Street among the crinkly, dry fallen leaves, Simon hopping along a few feet ahead of us. “So, how’ve you been?” Trent asked.
“Better than ever, if you consider I have a full-time career as America’s Nuclear-Powered Hero on the national stage, with no sacrifice to my Civilian life here in the Midwest.”
“That’s something I never could achieve when I was Megaton Man,” said Trent.
I explained all my misgivings about the situation.
“Try to enjoy it while it lasts,” said Trent. “These kinds of things never stay in balance for long.”
“Do you like Clarissa Too better than me?” I asked. “Tell the truth. I think even Simon likes her better.”
“She doesn’t know me,” said Trent. “I guess the Trent Phloog she’s familiar with in her own reality is quite a bit different. In any case, I don’t know her; we don’t have any shared experiences together. I have those with you.”
“But you could start over with her,” I said. “You wouldn’t have any baggage. Doesn’t that appeal to you?”
“I don’t believe in that,” said Trent. “Baggage is all we’ve got. It accumulates. That’s life. Besides, she would still have memories of the other Trent and I’d have memories of you. It wouldn’t be like starting from scratch.”
We walked on a little further, crossing State Street and arriving at the tiny playground. We watched as Simon crawled all over the monkey bars.
“I’ve wondered what it would be like to start over with Stella,” said Trent. “Really start over, without all the Megaton Man, See-Thu Girl stuff. Without Megatropolis and the Partyers from Mars and all that nonsense that happened before I swallowed the Cosmic Cue-Ball. Just two ordinary people raising a kid. But you can’t change history. Maybe you can jump from one timeline to another, but you still have a personal history—your own set of experiences. And there really are no do-overs.”
“Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you hadn’t swallowed the Cosmic Cue-Ball?” I asked. “If you were still Megaton Man—America’s Nuclear-Powered Hero—flying around Megatropolis?”
“I’d still be getting my brains beaten in, I guess,” said Trent. “And I wouldn’t be able to spend time with my son. And I would never have met you.”
We looked down and noticed that unconsciously we’d been holding hands.
After dinner, everyone was completely stuffed. Everyone retired to the living room to watch football while Clarissa Too and I offered to clear the table and do the dishes.
I had to ask. “So, what do you think of this Trent Phloog?”
“He’s very nice—a lot nicer than my Trent Phloog,” said Clarissa Too. “He’s a good deal more refined; he reads real books. Although my old Trent back in the Civilian reality has come a long way.” Both, she observed, were real good with their parenting partners, and with their children. “They have that much in common. But I have to confess, being near him makes me feel funny.”
“You mean like queasy in your stomach?” I asked. I thought maybe she was referring to feelings of attraction.
“No, in my leg,” said Clarissa Too. She rubbed her thigh. “Remember when I broke my leg, and they had to insert that metal rod? I could walk, eventually, but it never felt quite right, you know?”
“Of course I remember,” I replied. “We were laid up in that wheelchair for weeks—I mean, you and I.”
As a result of that trauma, I recalled, my astral form had somehow gone into the Clarissa Too, and we shared her organism while she recuperated.
“Then, you touched the Cosmic-Cue-Ball,” I said. “I mean, I touched it, tried to grab it, and got zapped. After that, my astral form had left your body, and I was watching you pick yourself up off the lawn.”
“Right,” said Clarissa Too. “After that, not only was I completely healed and my leg as good as new—they ran an x-ray and discovered the rod had completely disappeared—but I also found I had the Megapowers of Ms. Megaton Man.”
“Right,” I agreed. “So what’s the problem?”
“Whenever I come within a few feet of Trent,” said Clarissa Too, “the pain in my leg returns. It’s almost like I still had that metal rod. But when I move away from him, I feel better again. Isn’t that funny?”
By halftime, the hometown Feral Felines were getting clobbered, and everyone decided it was time to go home. It had been such a lovely afternoon and evening, it was almost perfectly banal.
Preston and Dana were already gone outside on the back patio and were smoking cigarettes when me, Mama, Avie, and Clarissa Too came out in our coats. Trent, Stella, and Simon followed in their shirtsleeves, although the evening had become rather brisk. They stood shivering on the driveway as they kissed us all goodbye.
That’s when it happened: Clarissa Too gave Trent a big hug; then, without thinking, she gave him a quick kiss on the lips. I turned and saw it just as it happened—a blinding flash of light that blew Clarissa Too backwards. There she was, splayed in the middle of the lawn, knocked for a loop. It reminded me of similar out-of-body experiences in her Civilian reality, when she—I—had tried grabbing the Cosmic Cue-Ball.
Mama and Avie got to her first. “Are you all right?” they asked, with concern.
Clarissa Too tried sitting up. “Oowee!” she said. “That was some smooch.”
“What happened?” I asked Trent.
“I don’t know,” said Trent, looking at his hands. They were steaming in the cold night air. “I just felt a tremendous jolt of energy.”
“Can you stand up?” Mama asked Clarissa Too.
“I can try,” said Clarissa Too.
They got Clarissa Too up on her feet, but she was clearly in pain when she tried putting weight on her right leg.
“Ouch!” she said. “Damn!” “What is it?” asked Avie.
“It’s my thigh,” said Clarissa Too. “It feels like when I still had that metal rod.”
Next: I Lost My Powers In This World
First Chapter | All Chapters | Latest Chapter
Archival Images
 |
| Clarissa gets zapped in an unpublished pencil and ink sketch. |
If you’re on Facebook, please consider joining the Ms. Megaton Man™ Maxi-Series Prose Readers group! See exclusive artwork, read advance previews, and enjoy other special stuff.
___________
No comments:
Post a Comment