Superhuman (adj.): having or showing exceptional ability or powers.
I didn’t really like to think of myself as superhuman.
In fact, the word itself invited far too much attention, and I was an introverted college student who despised most social situations. However, my friends weren’t as unassuming, but they all held varying opinions concerning our rather unusual predicament. For example, Mark liked to use his imagination, which was harmless as long as the others didn’t take him too seriously.
“We need masks!” Mark declared now, eyes wide with excitement.
“That’s cliché!” Laura countered, rolling her eyes at the suggestion.
“It doesn’t even matter,” Chris abruptly intervened, lips pursed in concentration. His right hand hovered over an abandoned flash drive, shaking slightly with his efforts. It was only enough to levitate the outdated technology a few centimeters above the rough surface of the kitchen counter.
You see, this is an example of someone taking Mark too seriously.
Nevertheless, Mark and Laura were undeterred, resuming their argument as if completely unaware that Chris had even spoken up in the first place. I found it amusing, especially considering the ridiculous nature of their conversation, but it was a popular topic around the apartment these days. An endless debate that usually only involved our youngest two members.
“Masks are important,” Mark insisted. “They protect who we are.”
“I want people to know who I am,” Laura huffed as if offended that Mark would even dare suggest she cover her face, which I knew from personal observation that Laura went to great lengths to care for. Usually, it involved a complicated skincare routine that included an extensive facial cleansing with a purchased soap that cost way more than I care to admit.
And I wasn’t the one paying for it.
“The masks will protect us,” Mark said reassuringly. “Could you imagine if my parents found out? They would never let me be a superhero.”
“We’re not superheroes,” a new voice interrupted, and I considered Ray’s dismissive tone to be ironic considering he’s the one who created the power rings in the first place. The thin bands of silver that adorned all of our right index fingers, initials delicately carved into the underside of the smooth material. However, Ray insisted it was important that we learn how to control our powers, and he ingeniously figured out a way to help us channel the dormant energy that coursed through millions of rapidly firing neurons.
In other words, Ray was a genius, but he was also a practicalist. It was certainly not his idea for us to all move in together. That responsibility rested solely with Chris who probably didn’t realize how much it would inspire Mark and Laura. They were already writing our comic book series, complete with a team name and several rather lackluster alter egos. Like Mark’s insistence on his name being Mysterio simply because he could turn himself invisible (but not on command because, more often than not, Mark liked to walk around with missing appendages).
Mark also really liked the idea of superheroes, especially if it involved himself wearing some sort of multi-colored cape. “What else would we do?”
“Not try to kill ourselves?” Ray suggested calmly, hovering around Chris as he studied the barely airborne flash drive with scrutiny.
“And that’s why we would wear masks,” I quickly inserted myself into the conversation. “Right, Mark?”
I received a pleased smile from Mark who immediately switched topics to the much-debated question of our team slogan. Meanwhile, Laura had resorted to glaring at me with a look of complete betrayal. What can I say? I kind of liked the idea of being a superhero.
“It shouldn’t be so hard,” Chris sighed, jerking his hand back and allowing the flash drive to hit the tabletop.
“You’re the only one having trouble with the rings,” Ray muttered because how could his invention be the cause of the problem? Ray designed the rings with careful astuteness and dedication that rivaled his 75-page Honors Thesis on Quantum Mechanics.
“It’s me,” Chris admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked down at the flash drive as if the answer might possibly rest with the object that faithfully stored all of Chris’ bizarre art animations.
“Of course it’s you,” Ray said calmly, placing a hand on Chris’ shoulder who abruptly shrugged it off with an accompanying frown of disdain.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” I said, hating to see the ugly wrinkles creasing his forehead.
“It’s embarrassing,” Chris admitted shyly as he slowly removed the ring. “I need to figure out something else.” He handed the gleaming object to Ray. “I need to be a better leader for everyone.”
Unfortunately, that was the problem with shouldering the responsibility of leadership. It was always heartbreaking when you couldn’t set an example for the rest of the team. I also knew from personal experience that Chris took things harder than most people. We had been friends since Elementary school, and that gave me an intimate look at the person he hid beneath his practiced facade of patience and strength.
Fifteen Years Ago
My mother had insisted that I should be friendly with the scrawny kid who lived next door. “It will be nice to have a friend when you start school,” she explained to me as I kept my hand tightly enclosed in hers as we walked up the front porch steps of the white staccato.
The woman who greeted us was slightly taken aback when my mother proposed a playdate between me and her son. “Chris?” the woman questioned, letting out a nervous laugh after she agreed to call him downstairs.
When Chris and I officially met for the first time, I remember the shy boy hiding behind his mother’s legs as he anxiously met my curious gaze. “Where are your manners, Tessa?”
I withheld the urge to complain as I allowed a tentative ‘hello’ to escape my lips. Chris brightened, briefly leaving the coverage of his mother’s legs to ask if I was interested in comic books. “I like them,” I said, still trying to remain polite under the stern gaze of my mother. And that’s how I found myself in the small backyard of Chris’ home, reading an old comic book while lying next to him in the grass.
Of course, I soon came to realize that Chris was actually a really cool person. He might be a little strange, perhaps to a fault according to our patronizing classmates, but I liked that he wasn’t afraid to be different. He had expressed this divergence throughout the years in a lot of interesting ways, like when he only wore black during our second year of the middle (the broody goth phase) or when he died his hair purple after being accepted into his dream university (the rebel phase).
However, regardless of his unorthodox tendencies, he never failed to captivate me, which is part of the reason why our friendship had strengthened so much over the years. I adored Chris, and I liked that he was such a strong leader, welcoming others into our small group who also exhibited strange affinities (as Ray liked to term them). Mark, on the other hand, preferred to call them superpowers, but I don’t think any of us really felt much like the Avengers.
We had discovered one another under various circumstances but figured out very quickly that it would be foolish to try and live apart. We knew we needed to rely on one another to try and figure out what was rapidly becoming a very unique situation. I mean, how many other people can turn invisible or read someone else’s thoughts?
Of course, Luke was awfully proud of his rather annoying affinity, especially when he easily determined that my feelings for Chris were starting to evolve into something far more romantic. “You can’t tell him,” I said sternly, gripping Luke’s arm tightly to convey my seriousness.
Luke chuckled. “As if he can’t tell by now. You’re not exactly subtle these days.”
Nonetheless, I insisted on remaining adamant because I could at least try and keep my emotions in check, even if Chris was making it awfully difficult. He was being so hard on himself and it appealed to my innermost desire to empathize with the young man who had captured my affections. All I wanted to do was take him into my arms and whisper soothing encouragements in the hopes that I would be able to see his generous smile again.
“Do you think Chris knows that I like him?” I asked Laura one day, confiding in the only female companion I regularly conversed with.
“If he doesn’t, then he isn’t paying attention,” Laura informed me, much to my chagrin. “Why does it matter? Don’t you want Chris to know you like him?”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but he’s really stressed right now.”
“Meaning you’re afraid,” Laura sighed, giving me a cheeky smile. “It’s just Chris, Laura, what’s really holding you back?”
Her words weren’t exactly the advice I had been looking for.
Chris and I had both accidentally discovered our affinities when we were very young. For me, it was after a rather vivid dream in which Chris and I talked together for several hours before realizing something was off. There was a strange veil of haze surrounding us, not unlike the low surfacing smog gracing the city streets in the early morning. I also felt almost distant from the boy standing directly in front of me, a strange disconnect as if I were in a virtual reality video game, but I wasn’t controlling the CPU characters. Of course, when I woke up in the middle of the night, a cold sweat caking my hair to the back of my neck, I realized it had been a dream. Further inquiry and research, such as falling asleep while chanting Chris’ name over and over again in my head, revealed that I could talk to other people in my dreams. Or perhaps it was through their dreams? Either way, it was a bit disconcerting, especially since I really didn’t know how to control it. Sometimes, it happened regardless of whether or not I was thinking about someone else. Thankfully, the admittance of Ray into my life allowed me to attain that control in the form of the special rings the older boy had created.
There was a significant amount of science behind the rings, but Ray’s knowledge comprehension was well beyond my level of understanding. Ray himself understood far more than any of us simply by virtue of his rather amazing affinity. After all, how often do you accidentally realize you can talk in virtually every language? Meanwhile, I can barely pass my Spanish language requirement without the constant threat of another headache.
As for Chris, the older boy had stumbled upon his affinity during one of our rare arguments. Ray liked to play sleuth during the recountenances of the discoveries of our various affinities and he believed it was Chris’ anger that stirred up the power in the first place. Nonetheless, teenaged Tessa did not appreciate the mess Chris left behind in her room when he decided to take revenge on my extensive book collection. I could only stand aside as I watched each book fling itself from the shelves, collecting into various piles around the messy floor of my bedroom.
Thus, Chris and I were the first two members of our group, followed shortly by Ray when we met during our Freshman year of University. Ray discovered Chris in an Engineering class, a course by which Chris was a victim of waiting until the last minute for registration. Perhaps by pure coincidence, they became lab partners and, later on, close friends who happened to both be mysteriously endowed. Of course, I also took a liking to Ray, especially when he introduced us to the power rings that allowed me to consistently sleep each night without invading the dreams of unwilling participants.
“There must be others who are like us,” Ray had concluded one day after inviting himself into the apartment I shared with Chris. I slowly watched him turn our kitchen into an untelevised episode of Breaking Bad.
The apartment smelled like Chlorine for weeks.
But Ray was correct in his assumption because there were more people out there who shared similar experiences to our own. I just wish we had met them under different circumstances as opposed to answering Ray’s ridiculous online Facebook Advertisement. Imagine asking for willing subjects to participate in an experiment in which Ray would “help them control their extraterrestrial abilities.”
“What were you doing!” I exclaimed to the younger boy, practically shoving my laptop screen into his face after I discovered the advertisement.
With a mouth full of ice cream, Ray calmly replied: “Recruiting.”
And, as you may suspect, we received thousands of replies to the advertisement, most of which came from questionable sources. In fact, one of the applicants wouldn’t even submit their surname or phone number, only a rather sketchy Email address from a domain I had never even heard of before. “This will take too long,” I complained to Ray as the younger boy mindlessly scrolled through the applicant pool. “Most people aren’t even taking it seriously.”
“As expected,” Chris spoke up, frowning as he focused his attention on a rather intense game of Mario Kart.
“What about this guy?” Ray suggested, showing me the application of Mark Scott, a local high school teenager with an adorable profile picture.
“He’s underage,” I pointed out because I found it hard to believe that a 16-year old was being serious about such an advertisement.
“He’s local,” Ray continued, lost in the problematic maze that detailed his elaborate brain. “I proposed a theory once that something might have happened when we were younger. Perhaps a local accident that somehow contributed to our affinities?”
“You think it was a gas leak?” Chris rolled his eyes as if he couldn’t possibly believe such an explanation.
“The government is an endless vacuum of misinformation,” Ray elaborated. “And sometimes they don’t bother reporting on things that might alarm the public.”
“We were poisoned!”
“Considering we’re still alive, I think it was a rather mild form of poison. Nothing too harmful.”
“I don’t really care if it was mild or not!” I protested. “And I was plenty harmed, thank you! Do you know how awkward it is to accidentally wake up in your father’s dreams!”
“I don’t have the experience to relate to that,” Ray replied, appearing entirely unfazed by my obvious frustration.
Needless to say, Ray was even more convinced by his government conspiracy, and he also contacted Mark the next day. I remember meeting the young teenager at the back of a local restaurant, feeling completely foolish adorned in the long trench coat Ray insisted we wear. Perhaps not as flabbergasted as Mark who took one look at the three of us before sheepishly inquiring about whether or not he was going to be kidnapped.
I was quick to assuage his fears and Ray bought the frightened boy a delicious burger special. Food is usually the best solution when it comes to prepubescent terror. “What can you do, Mark?” Ray had asked the hungry boy, eyes greedy for information.
“I can turn invisible,” Mark had replied, shrugging his shoulders as if the revelation was as normal as telling Ray he preferred ketchup with his sandwiches.
“Amazing!”
And although I didn’t exactly feel the same way, it only took about a week for the three of us to welcome Mark into our inner circle.
Luke and Laura were the final two additions to our complicated family. They were siblings from a rival university, and they only discovered us after an unfortunate incident involving Mark and his now incapacitated bicycle. Sadly, it turns out that racing home on your bicycle in the middle of the street, without any lights to spotlight your position, was not an acceptable method of transportation. And I had never seen Ray care as much as he did the night he received a phone call from the police department alerting him to the fact that Mark had been taken to the hospital.
Under any other circumstances, the sight of a professional Ray pacing up and down the hallway of the hospital in adorable pink pajamas would have been hilarious. However, I was just as worried as everyone else concerning our youngest member. Thankfully, after constant pestering from Ray and Chris, a nurse informed us that Mark only had a mild concussion. We were able to talk with him that night and the younger boy, enjoying the effects of a powerful pain killer, cooed at the sight of us and insisted we all pile into bed with him.
As for Luke and Laura, they apologized to us incessantly, explaining that they weren’t able to see Mark under the dark coverage of a night sky missing the light from its usual constellations because of the rain clouds. Chris was not as forgiving, angrily reprimanding the two siblings to the point where he seemed to have forgotten where he was, releasing enough power to temporarily suspend the chairs in the waiting room. The mirroring expressions of shock on Luke and Laura’s countenances finally broke Chris from his seemingly never-ending rant. The room was silent until Laura shoved an accusing finger into Chris’ face. “You’re weird too!”
It was at that point that Ray had slowly started putting everything together, being the chaotic genius that he was. He started questioning the siblings and they revealed that they too had strange, but fascinating, abilities that came with neither an explanation nor a reliable set of instructions. As it turned out, Luke could hear the thoughts of people standing close to him, and Laura could actually talk to people using the same thoughts that Luke was able to eavesdrop.
Finally, Ray, myself, and Chris offered a more formal introduction and officially invited the radically similar siblings into our tight-knit faction.
Present
The night was warm, but welcoming.
I followed Chris outside, picking up on my friend’s drastically shifting mood. It seemed that Chris was always a little less bright these days, expression often downcast and shoulders dropping sullenly whenever he watched Mark successively force another limb to disappear. Although I knew it wasn’t jealousy, as Chris was quite fond of the youngest boy, I suspected that Chris was suffering because he seemed to be digressing as opposed to the constant improvement he witnessed in the others on a daily basis.
“We’ll be a super team in no time!” Mark declared, clapping his hands together excitedly like a tiny seal. “And Chris will be our leader!”
But I knew Chris was feeling less like a leader and more like a burden. Which is why I chose to confront him, steeling my anxiety-ridden nerves as I sat next to him on the second rocking chair we had purchased for our balcony. An addition that pleased Ray because he thought it would encourage Mark to go outside more often as opposed to watching superhero cartoons.
“You know,” I started, cautiously looking up at the sullen boy next to me, “Mark is just really excited about us all being together. I’m sure he isn’t really expecting us to be some sort of super team. Especially if Ray has any say in the matter.”
Chris sighed, picking at the hole fashionably designed into his name-brand jeans. “I wouldn’t be an asset.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t get it right,” Chris huffed, a resigned expression softening the unexpected anger accompanying his tone.
“It takes practice.”
“Everyone else is fine.”
“Chris, you do realize that Mark walks around half the time with an arm or leg missing?”
Chris did not appreciate my attempt at humor. “He’s still improving.”
“But so will you. It takes time.”
“I’m tired of hearing that,” Chris snapped. “It’s all everyone says and it doesn’t help.”
I prided myself on being able to read Chris’ emotions, often written quite visibly in his handsome features. However, at that moment, such a skill was useless because I didn’t know what to do to help him. “You can’t expect yourself to be superhuman.”
“I expect myself to be a leader,” Chris determined. “And leaders set good examples. I’m failing to do that for the others.”
“Nobody expects you to be a leader,” I told him, resting my hand on top of his thigh. “You’re putting that pressure on yourself. Maybe that’s why you’re having problems with the ring.”
Chris disregarded my wise words with a shake of his head. “The problem is with me.”
Chris had always been determined but, at that moment, he had decided he was determined to tear himself down.
And I was afraid there would be nothing left.
A ball of fabric suddenly blinded my vision. I blinked twice before reaching out to take it from a visibly beaming Mark. “What is this?”
“Your mask!” Mark declared, holding up a similar design. “I made them!”
I couldn’t help but laugh, even as Ray cleared his throat from behind. “The masks never leave the apartment.”
Mark pouted, and the jutting of his lower lip was usually enough to even melt the Duracell batteries that I was positive had replaced Ray’s heart. “Ray! How will we protect ourselves?”
“We won’t need to,” Ray disagreed stubbornly, but I could faintly detect his hesitation.
“Come on, Ray!” Mark cried. “What’s the point of having these powers if we can’t use them?”
“Ray’s a total conspiracist,” I said with a wink. “He probably thinks the government will take us in and start all sorts of crazy experiments.”
“Don’t listen to Tessa,” Ray said, finally making himself visible when he entered the living room. “But most people won’t take kindly to those who are different.”
“If we help them,” Mark started, “then they’ll have no reason to distrust us.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Ray argued, eyes narrowed as he glared in my direction as if I was personally responsible for Mark’s overactive imagination.
“I love it, Mark,” I said, simply to further annoy Ray’s sensibilities. I carefully tied the silky material around the back of my head, ignoring the fact that the holes for my eyes were far too small.
Mark let out an adorable gasp. “It fits perfectly!”
“Tessa,” Ray ground out, teeth clenched together as if to withhold the urge to scream at me for my insolence.
“You should listen to Ray.”
Mark and I were both taken aback by Chris’ reprimand, turning around at the same time when he slowly made his way over to where the three of us were congregated. “I thought you were okay with it,” Mark said, voice much smaller now that he had both the disapproval of Ray and Chris.
“It’s too dangerous,” Chris shook his head as if to emphasize his point.
It wasn’t very often that Chris and Ray actually agreed on something. I think even Ray was surprised by Chris’ show of support for his decision. “Exactly,” Ray said now. “We’re only learning to control the affinities. We don’t need to run around in masks and capes and pretend we can save people from collapsing buildings or evil overlords.”
“Fine,” Mark relented, balling up his mask tightly in his hand, thin fingers resembling claws as he slowly walked away.
“He’s just a kid,” I said, frowning at Chris. “What’s wrong with wanting to help people?”
“You just don’t get it,” Chris said, and I felt my shoulders tense as I took the brunt of his verbal insult. Was he suggesting that I couldn’t possibly understand what we were going through?
“What’s with the attitude?” I returned with a far more hostile tone. “Are you upset about something?”
“Of course I am!” he rebuked. “You keep encouraging Mark to act like some kind of vigilante. He’s only a kid in high school, he doesn’t need to be patrolling the streets at night like he’s the new neighborhood watch or something.”
“It not just that,” I countered. “There’s something else going on. You’ve been acting like this for weeks now.”
“Enough you two,” Ray complained, slowly rubbing a hand down the side of his face, drawing out the puffy skin under his eyes. “We’re supposed to be getting along.”
“That’s hard to do when Chris insists on letting his personal problems affect the whole group,” I mumbled crossly, childishly retreating from the settling tension like a scolded puppy.
It didn’t matter whether or not Chris agreed with Ray. In fact, I valued Chris’ opinion on the matter. The real problem was that Chris was frustrated with himself and he was taking it out on others, crushing their feelings simply because he couldn’t move a flash drive across the kitchen counter!
A week had passed since my argument with Chris and I felt terrible.
But I always found reprieve outdoors, particularly at night when it felt like the rest of the world had finally shut down for a little while. I savored those moments of tranquility when it was just me and the comfort of the faraway pixels of light that teased different shapes against a black canvas. The rest of the city was quiet, save for the occasional siren or distant car horn, and the beautiful Sonata of the crickets reverberating throughout the emptiness surrounding me.
I could admire the lights of the city from the comfort of the rocking chairs on our balcony, slowly moving back and forth like I was trying to create a new element to the calm order. It also provided a distraction from my most melancholic thoughts by distracting my attention to maintaining a steady rhythm, feeling my feet touch the floor before briefly rising again. That was always nice because I often thought of Chris these days and my mood frequently took a downturn when I thought about the way our last conversation had ended.
Even in the past we always addressed our arguments immediately. I used to be the first one to apologize, but I had finally mastered the art of the puppy dog eyes. Chris would take one look at me before grabbing my hand and telling me that he hated it when we would argue. Unfortunately, with all the recent unresolved tension between us, apologies were scarce and feelings were left broken and fractured. It was far more painful to endure and it took even longer to heal.
“I can usually find you out here if you aren’t glued to the television.”
His voice shattered the delicate illusion of peace I had managed to create. My thoughts were rampant. “I’m waiting for the next Harry Potter marathon.”
“Magic was always more of your style.”
“As opposed to?”
“Whatever this is?” he questioned, holding up his right hand to allow me a glimpse of the dull metal of his ring. The darkness certainly did no favors to the non-fashionable piece of jewelry.
“You’ll get used to it.”
“I know,” he whispered, barely audible, with an unexpected vulnerability that allowed me to realize that Chris was actually very sorry for the way he acted. “I managed to move it today.”
I couldn’t resist a smile because I felt incredibly proud of him, despite our disagreement. “Is that so?”
“You were right, like always,” Chris continued, collapsing into the rocking chair next to me as if suddenly relieved of an enormous burden. “I should have listened.”
“This is my moment to say ‘I told you so,’ right?”
“I would understand.”
I laughed, leaning forward in my chair to prop my elbows on my knees, providing a nice position to rest my head atop my folded hands. “An apology would suffice.”
“Then I’m sorry for what I said. I was making everything worse by demanding instant results when this sort of thing needed to resolve itself.”
“You’re always forgiven,” I reassured him, meeting his gaze which held obvious adoration.
“And about Mark-”
“We’ll figure everything out,” I replied, watching with curious eyes as he reached out to grab one of my hands.
“Thank you for always supporting me.”
“Isn’t that my job as your friend?” I wondered, choosing to look out into the city because it was easier to understand in opposition to the strange look reflected in his delicate eyes.
“Perhaps for now,” he soothed, voice pitched deeper as he placed a tender kiss to the worn skin of my knuckles.
I was blushing, but the night provided a convincing coverage. I carefully took my hand from his, noting the way his fingers smoothed across my tendons, as I fetched a familiar ball of silk from my coat pocket. I handed it to Chris who took it from me with a generous chuckle. I bit my lower lip to keep from commenting as he tied it around his head.
I took out my phone to snap a picture while he was distracted because you never know when you might need valuable blackmail. “This is embarrassing,” Chris groaned, snatching the material away from his eyes.
“It was nice.”
“That’s a lie,” he mumbled, shoving the material back in my direction like he couldn’t abandon it fast enough. “You’re only saying that because you got what you wanted.” He paused as if considering something. “I just want you to be happy.”
I grinned as I lowered my phone, leaning in closer to Chris who remained perfectly stationary despite the limited distance. “I am completely happy.”
© 2019 Everything Writes
