I Can Still Be Your Superman

WARNING: Some mildly graphic imagery contained.

The drive back didn’t seem as long as the drive to the cemetery seemed, but the rain never stopped. By the time I was inside, I was soaking wet, my clothes sticking to my skin. “Eileen,” I yelled into the house and walked to the kitchen where she was probably making lunch for everyone. “Do you have any clothes I could borrow? While I was out, it started to rain and -” I stopped short, talking and walking, and stared.

Eileen had a small smile on her face as Uncle John darted toward me, wrapping me in a tight hug despite my sopping wet clothes. “Oh God, Morgan, don’t ever scare me like that again. But, my God, am I glad you’re all right.” He said into my ear, his grip tightening with every word.

But I wasn’t focused on him. I was focused on the one person who I never imagined coming to find me, not now anyway. Nick.

He was just staring blankly at me, as if I weren’t real or as if I were a dream. But the longer I stayed in Uncle John’s arms and didn’t move, his features softened as a look of relief spread. I didn’t know I felt relief too until I felt my muscles relax. I was relieved that they came and found me and that Nick was here too. I didn’t know how much I wanted him to be until that moment.

“Come on,” Eileen started, taking my elbow once Uncle John finally released me. “Let’s find you something dry. You two can wait in the dining room, it’s right through that door, and I’ll make sure no one screams in your face again.” She said, giving Nick an apologetic smile before escorting me upstairs. “Stacey was in the kitchen with me when they rang the doorbell, and she got to the door first.” She explained.

I just nodded. “Did you have any idea they were coming?”

“No, I was just as surprised as you were. They’re the first ones, aren’t they?”

“First ones, what?”

She smiled before handing me some clothes. “The first ones to find you.” She said before leaving me to change, walking back downstairs, probably to ward off any of the kids from walking into the dining room.

I got changed quickly, tossing my clothes in the dryer before heading back down. Eileen didn’t have any clothes that fit me, but she gave me one of the older girls’ gray sweatpants and a T-shirt that read ‘I mustache you a question’. Usually, that kind of joke would get a response out of me, but I was in a daze. The voice in my head just kept repeating ‘he did it; he figured it out; he found you’.

When I reached the dining room, Eileen and Uncle John were chatting softly to one another while Nick sat beside Uncle John silently, his hands fumbling in his lap.

“Morgan!” Eileen said happily, noticing I entered as I sat next to her. “John was just telling me how he gave you your internship that started everything. I can’t believe that it was only a little over a year ago.”

“Tell me about it,” John said nodding his head somberly. He took a deep breath before turning to me completely. “Morgan, all I want to know is why. If you missed Eileen, you could’ve asked to visit. Why’d you leave without saying anything? I was worried sick.”

I wrapped my arms around my body. “I know, I am so sorry Uncle John. I, I wasn’t thinking. I was just nervous and lost and scared, so I just came here, like I used to. I am so sorry for any trouble I caused, both of you.” I said, glancing at Nick who just continued to stare at me.

“Why didn’t you just come to me if you were scared?” Uncle John asked, hurt burned under his words. I hurt him by running; the man who took me in when no one else would and who’s been more of a father to me than anyone in my entire life. I hurt him.

I took a deep, shaky breath. “I know, I should have. I just didn’t know what to do. I just ended up here instinctually; I always have.” I said, trying to hold back the tears that started to well up, and Eileen placed her hand on my arm, rubbing it gently. “I was going to come back this afternoon, but you showed up first.”

It was a few moments before Uncle John slowly nodded his head. “Okay, we’ll leave whenever you’re ready.” He nudged Nick slightly. “If you two can excuse us, I’d like to talk to Eileen alone.”

I nodded and rose from my seat as Nick mimicked mechanically, before walking out of the dining room. I walked out of the house and onto the covered patio, Nick following behind wordlessly. It was time to finally talk to him.

It was still pouring, the rain pattering against the canvas covering loudly, but it left the air much cooler than it was before. I turned to Nick who was still staring. I took a deep breath. “Nick, I am so sorry for everything - for running, shutting you out. You don’t deserve any of it, I am just so sorry.” I said as sincerely as I could, searching his face for any hint of response. When I got nothing, I took a few steps forward and reached out to touch him lightly on the arm. “Nick,” I said softly.

With that one word and touch, it was like everything clicked. I could see in his face that he realized I was there. I was real. He plowed toward me and wrapped his arms around me, burying his head in the crook between my shoulder and my neck.

My arms immediately wrapped around his waist, my fingers digging into his back as we pulled each other closer. I felt him shake slightly in my arms and a few drops of water on my skin. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to hold back. “I am so sorry Nick.”

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.” He mumbled into my ear.

I nodded. “I won’t, I promise. I mean it.” I said, a few tears slipping down my face. That was one promise I was certain I was going to keep.

Slowly, he released his grip from around my shoulders and I finally saw everything I put Nick through over the last forty-eight plus hours. His features sagged on his face, his eyes were dull and tired with dull purple bags underneath as a sign of a night of little or restless sleep. His usually well kept head of hair was wild, knotted and thrown about on top of his head. He looked disheveled, tired, fearful, worried - all because he didn’t know where I was.

My stomach spun and twisted in knots at the sight of him. Only one person had looked at me like that when I was found before. The words, the explanation of why I did what I did, started bubbling quickly in my throat, surging upwards before pouring out of my mouth in waves. “The first time I ran away, I was eight years old. I was living with my first foster parents after my mom died and my dad deserted me.” I began, not even thinking before I spoke and sat on the bench that Eileen and I put together when I was thirteen. I wasn’t really looking at anything, just staring at the rain as it covered the lawn, wringing my hands in my lap as I spoke. “I was trying to teach myself how to play guitar with one that the school let me borrow. Natalie - my foster mom at the time - absolutely hated it. She thought music was a waste of time; that I should be spending my time on school work. Plus, she kept complaining how loud I was playing and how long, even though I stopped before nine o’clock.

“The more I played, the more agitated she became. She started to hit me when she saw me pulling out the guitar, until she finally returned it to school for me. All I wanted to do was play, I managed to figure out seven chords by that point and I didn’t want to stop. So, one day, I tried to sneak the guitar back into the house and played it only while they were out - they liked to leave me at home when they went grocery shopping and stuff.

“It worked until one day they came home sooner than I expected and found me playing, trying to figure out a D-minor chord. And they didn’t just slap me. Natalie had her husband, Bert, basically whip me with his belt while she held me down. I couldn’t believe it. Back then, I only thought stuff like that only happened in movies and were just stories adults told kids to make them behave. Obviously, I was wrong, and, oh God, did it hurt. Sometimes, if I think about it hard enough and long enough, I can still feel the harsh sting of the leather hitting my skin and my blooding running down my bare back.

“They threw away the guitar and sent me to bed without dinner; locking my bedroom door from the outside to make sure I didn’t cause any more trouble for them. That’s all I was to them, a problem. So, that night well after they went to bed, I jumped out my window with only a small backpack with what I cared about inside, and ran.

“The second time was a few days after my tenth birthday. I was with my sixth family, at that point, for seven months, the longest ever by that time. They were nice enough, Carol and Joseph, and already had two children of their own, Kelly and Adam. The two kids were only two and four years older than me. I tried to meld into their household, find my place you know. Adam was some sort of football prodigy, making the varsity team his freshman year, and Kelly was the brains, aced every test she took. I was mediocre in their eyes - a good student, but not great, and I only plated softball then, but by no means a prodigy. Even in my own skill that I had and the didn’t, music, I didn’t excel at. They let me play the grand piano they had in their living room and let me practice the guitar, but only after dinner and after homework - which was better than nothing.

“I tried so hard to be one of their kids, the one gifted with music. But I was never able to meet their standards. As time passed, the less they became in my things, like practice shows at the Y or softball tournaments, and focused on Kelly’s science fair or Adam’s football games. I just wasn’t good enough, so they just stopped caring.

“My birthday came around, but they just treated it as another day. Yeah, I got a card from them - only one - but nothing else. Adam had some big game that night, so there was no birthday dinner or cake, and no plans for one later on. I just grew so tired of their indifference and neglect that, one day after school, I went to Eileen’s instead of Carol and Joseph’s. They didn’t even put up a fight to get me back.

“The third time I ran, the lucky thirteenth family, it wasn’t because of physical abuse or negligence. The woman actually seemed to like me, Jennifer I think her name was. She was a single mother to a son, Jake, who was seventeen years-old. I was twelve. I was only with them for three months. Jake took a special interest in me, if you know what I mean. It was really bad when Jennifer was working late or something and Jack babysat, which happened more often than not. I hated those days.

“I felt so lost and alone. I couldn’t tell anyone what he was doing to me and making me do to him because he kept threatening me - he was the big seventeen year-old man while I was the small twelve year-old girl. I tried to stay out of the house as often as I could. I took up basketball and asked the music teacher to teach me the drums. Nothing helped.

“That’s when I started cutting. I had no where to go, no one to turn to. It let me escape, even though it was only for a moment. It gave me control over my body back, freedom.

“The day I ran, I was scared out of my mind. Jennifer was going out of town on some business trip for the weekend and Jake and I were left alone. There was no way I was spending a whole weekend with him. I told myself I’d rather die, and I meant it too. The whole time between his house and Eileen’s I was petrified. I thought every car that drove past me was his car, waiting for me to stop so he could grab me. But I kept running, all seven miles.

“After I reached Eileen’s and told her everything and showed her what I did to myself, she called the cops. After the trial and everything, I was sent to therapy for a few months - twice a week with Dr. Kinner. She taught me some coping mechanisms and told me to get a lot of exercise, and to keep busy, but not too busy. So, I took up volleyball in addition to softball and basketball so I was always playing a sport. I joined the school band and continued learning the drums, then moving on to the bass, violin, and flute. It helped, but not always, I always struggled with it. Still do.

“But after Julia adopted me, it seemed like everything disappeared. It was easier to stop myself from cutting, most times the thought wasn’t even there. But one day, five months after she chose me, I slipped up. Something happened at school with a group of girls and I couldn’t handle it. Nothing helped me to avoid it. But afterwards I felt even more upset. I felt like if Julia found out, she’d be so upset and disappointed in me that she’d never want to see me again. So, I left. Climbed out my window and ran.

“Eileen talked to me all night that day. I explained what I did and she said something I still remember to this day. She said, 'You’re allowed to slip up, you’re not perfect. Julia knows that. She won’t banish you Morgan, she’ll help you.’ Julia was the first foster parent that Eileen fully supported; that’s why I went back. If she trusted Julia, I did too.

“But this time, this time was different. I still don’t really understand why I ran. All I know is that I’m scared and it has nothing to do with performing.” My voice ended in a whisper, quivering. My throat was sore from all of the words that ran through it, but I never felt better. The huge cloud that followed me everywhere as a dark reminder of what I’ve been through didn’t seem as dark anymore.

I jumped slightly when Nick grabbed my hand from my lap beside me; I didn’t even realize he sat next to me. I looked over at him tentatively as his fingers traced over the scars on my wrist gently.

He met my gaze and brought his other hand up to my face to cup my cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing off tears. I didn’t even know I was crying or had cried. His eyes searched my face in wonder and pride. “You’re amazing.” He murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.

I laughed quickly, shakily, pulling my head out of his grasp and used my free hand to wipe the dried tears off my face. “Thanks,” was the only response I could muster. I rose, pulling Nick with me since he kept a firm grasp on my hand. “Come on, I think it’s time for us to go home.”