Super Avenged

“Super Avenged saved the day again yesterday when they...” the anchorwoman on the news began, smiling out at all the viewers that she couldn’t see. She straightened her papers as I fumbled for the remote. Finally, I seized the remote off of the cushion beside me and changed the channel to Spongebob Squarepants. Hey, he’s the coolest sponge ever! Don’t be dissing him, ever.

“God, can’t shut up about them for one minutes, can you?” I grumbled, shoving my spoon angrily into my Cinnamon Toast Crunch and shoveling some of the sweet cinnamon squares into my mouth. As though I needed reminded that they existed, when one of their members was sleeping in my spare bedroom right that minute. Trying not to fume, which always seemed to happen when the news mentioned Super Avenged, I focused on Spongebob and his latest antics.

“Actually, no, they can’t,” Jimmy announced from behind me. I twisted around, somehow succeeding in not splashing milk all over myself, to see him standing just outside the spare bedroom. His hair was a mess, and his hands tiredly rubbed his eyes.

“I suppose you take great joy in that,” I commented, looking back at the television. But it had switched to a commercial, one of those commercials for the Snuggies, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to focus on that stupid blanket with sleeves. Hadn’t these people heard of a little miracle called SWEATERS?

“Eh,” Jimmy murmured, walking around and sinking down on the couch beside me. “Syn’s more for the attention, really. The rest of us don’t really pay much attention.”

“Hm,” I hummed. “I would’ve thought that all of you would enjoy the attention.”

“At first, yeah, but now it’s just annoying,” Jimmy informed me. “Man, I must be really hung-over.”

“Do you have a massive headache?”

“Yeah, and this too,” Jimmy answered. I glanced over in time to see him nod his head towards his hand. I looked at his hand too, and shrunk away quickly. He was holding his hand out, level with his head, and his fingers were stretching out and pooling in his lap.

“Oh, well...” I scrambled for a comment to such a weird phenomenon. But I couldn’t even think of a response to it. Instead, I chose to just clear my throat and focus again on my cereal.

“Sorry about that,” Jimmy apologized a few moments later. “When I’m hung-over or tired, my body does that. It’s like I’ve worn it out so much that it can’t retain its shape any longer.”

“Oh, really?” I asked in a tone of voice that let him know that I didn’t really care to know why his fingers were pooling in his lap like ropes being curled into coils. I quickly finished my cereal before rising to my feet. I put the bowl in the sink and grabbed a glass. I filled it with water, grabbed a Tylenol, and went back out into the living room.

“Here,” I said to Jimmy, holding out the glass and Tylenol. “It’ll help with the headache, at least.”

Jimmy sent me a weird look, obviously wondering why I was being so caring when I strongly disliked him, but he accepted the water and Tylenol anyway. He studied the pill for a few moments before popping it in his mouth and taking a drink of water.

“Actually, it’s a cyanide capsule,” I told him, sitting back down on the couch. “You’ll die pretty soon. I hope you enjoy Heaven.”

“If that really was cyanide, then I would probably just be raping you now, because I wouldn’t have a thing to lose,” Jimmy replied calmly, taking another drink of water. “But it wasn’t, so I guess you should be glad.”

“See? That’s exactly why I hate men,” I grumbled, leaning my elbow against the arm of the couch and resting my chin in my palm. I stared unseeingly at the television, all my concentration focused on the man sitting on the other end of the couch. “All they ever think about is sex and the quickest way to get it from a woman.”

“Partly,” Jimmy agreed. “But most of it is just from that broken heart of yours.”

“My heart isn’t broken,” I growled, whipping my head around to glare at Jimmy. “I just think men are—”

“Yes, yes, genitals with a brain attached,” Jimmy finished for me. He stared calmly into my glare. “But there’s a reason for why you think that. It’s because a man broke your heart, and you haven’t forgiven him, or any male, since then.”

“I can see you remember most of last night,” I mumbled, looking back towards the television.

“Yes,” Jimmy agreed. “I do.”

“Do you remember why you were at the bar in the first place?”

“Yes. I was there, drinking, because one, being a superhero is actually pretty stressful. Everyone expects miracles from you, constant miracles, but you can’t always deliver, and then people are disappointed when you don’t deliver. Two, I was a bit bummed about you refusing my date. But I was mostly there to drown away my feelings.”

“Feelings?” I repeated, looking around at Jimmy. He nodded, staring into the depths of the glass of water.

“Yes, feelings,” Jimmy said. “I don’t share my feelings with the guys too much. They’re all too busy with their own lives to care too much about mine. So,” Jimmy shrugged, “I usually end up bottling my emotions up and then when it gets too much, I make them go away by drinking. I’m not an alcoholic or anything, and I don’t rely on the alcohol to make everything better, but sometimes, it’s nice to have a mind relieved of my worries.”

“The dark side of a superhero,” I murmured. Jimmy nodded. “Why did you ask me out anyway?”

“Because I thought you were beautiful,” Jimmy answered. “And you didn’t swoon when Syn smacked your ass. You were pissed, actually. I’d never seen a girl react like that before.”

“You’re just like every other man,” I said. Jimmy looked questioningly at me. “You just wanted to date me because I’m beautiful, just like every other man I’ve ever met. You saw a pretty face, boobs, and an ass, and you didn’t see anything else. Just like every other man in the entire freaking universe.”

“Was that what happened when you got your heart broken?” Jimmy asked solemnly.

“No!” I screamed, shooting to my feet. “I didn’t get my fucking heart broken, okay? So stop talking about it.” I began to pace around the living room, rubbing my temples with my fingertips. I needed to work off the anger building inside me. How could he see right through it all?

“Okay, then,” Jimmy answered calmly. “Why did you let me crash at your place, then?”

“I haven’t got a clue,” I snapped, glaring over at him. “Because I didn’t want it on my conscience if you passed out in the middle of the street and got ran over. Okay?”

“No,” Jimmy answered. I rolled my eyes at him and turned away. Seconds later, I felt his hand wrap around my wrist and drag me back around to face him. But he was still seated on the couch, his stretched arm between us. I tried to pull my wrist from his fingers, but they were stronger than I expected.

“No,” Jimmy repeated, shaking his head. “I shocked you. I surprised you. I saw right through you, and I saw your broken heart. Miya, you’re a whole lot more transparent than you think.”

“Fine then!” I shrieked, still struggling against his grasp. “My heart got broken! Big whoop! But I am not transparent! My own mother doesn’t even know why I think of men the way I do! She thinks that I just developed that idea overnight because of all the ass-smacking and boob-pinching I got in high school! She doesn’t know the truth! My own mother, Jimmy! So how in the hell did you see right through me when I’m practically a stranger?”

“Because,” Jimmy answered calmly, “I saw it. I saw the pain in your eyes when you told me that you didn’t date, and then again when you said all men are just penises with a brain attached. It was barely there, but I saw it.”

Finally, I wrenched my wrist from his grasp and turned away from him. I walked into the kitchen and leaned against the island in the middle, pressing my palms into my eyelids. Jimmy had seen right through all the walls I put around my heart. He had seen right through them all. And I couldn’t figure out how or why.

Finally, however, I had someone I could tell the story to.

“Jimmy,” I said as I stepped back into the living room. He looked up from the couch. “C’mon. I want to show you something.”