Super. Love

Frode Singsaas
Sep 1, 2018 · 14 min read

Peter had a thing for superheroes. Not just a thing. He was obsessed. As long as he could remember he had always loved superheroes and superhero comics. He had started collecting comic books before he even learned how to read. When he turned 27 he had collected every issue from the early 1970’s and up to 1993.

He filled every bookshelf in the house with complete editions of Marvel and DC Comics. His interest in collecting every issue diminished a bit when he got married at 20, but the passion still burned brightly. He just learned to hide it better. A small reference in a movie or a novel was all it took for him to feel the familiar tingling sensations. And when the movie industry finally caught up with the ability to make superheroes look real on camera, his passion was awoken once more.

Peter became a grandfather at the age of 43 and his collection got hidden away in the basement. Not because he was ashamed of his lifelong passion, but because he was terrified that something should happen to his collection.

Exactly nine months after he married Caroline, they had Beatrice, and Beatrice gave birth to her first child on her 20th birthday. Lack of space had always been his excuse for stoving his collection away, but if the truth was to be told, he only wanted it for himself to see. Like a dirty secret that was his alone.

On his 50th birthday, Peter woke up and discovered that he had superpowers. He couldn’t have been more surprised if his wife had told him that she’d be leaving him for Justin Bieber.

The superpowers he had been granted wasn’t much to write home about, he had to admit. But then again, it wasn’t like he was given a choice. Beggars can’t be choosers, he said to himself. Not even in his wildest imagination had he dreamed that he should ever be granted such powers.

Peter had no idea of where his superpowers came from. He had not been bitten by any radioactive insects. Nor had he been exposed to any dubious chemical fluids ( which for some unexplainable reason always seemed to be the color green in movies and comics). But something had definitely happened during the night.

- Happy birthday, granddad! Tilde and Nerisa, his two grandchildren, came running in the bedroom balancing a tray of assorted cups and platters. Nerisa spilled most of the coffee on the floor and looked as if she was about to burst into tears. She regained her composure in the last minute and tried to pretend nothing had happened. Peter was handed a plate with chocolate cake and did his very best to force the dry cake down his throat while simultaneously smiling and shoving all signs of enjoyment. The stale cake wasn’t exactly his idea of birthday breakfast. He had envisioned pancakes, but he did his very best to show all sign of pleasure.

- Are you tired now, granddad? Tilde asked. She was the eldest of the two sisters. Nerisa was huffing and puffing, trying to hide under his bed.

- Tired in what way? Who said that? said Peter with his mouth full of crumbles that tasted at least a week past the expiration date.

- Mum says you are pre-tired.

- Pre-tired?

- Tired before you’re supposed to be tired.

- Oh, I think you mean retired. That’s something else entirely.

- What is it then?

- It means that I don’t go to work anymore.

- Did you lose your job? Tilde raised her eyebrows and looked genuine worried. She looked exactly like her mother at that age, Peter thought.

- No. It’s not like that. I quit my job. At my own free will. I’m gonna go into business by myself. And your grandmother is gonna come along.

Peter could see on Tildes face how she tried to process the information.

- So grandma is gonna be your new boss, then?

An involuntary laugh escaped from somewhere deep down his throat and the bedsheets got showered with crumbles and lukewarm coffee.

- Yes, pumpkin. Grandma is the boss. Always have been. Always will be, Peter said and put down his plate on the nightstand. — And the boss has given me strict orders to eat at least one child for breakfast each day. He jumped out of bed and pretended to reach for her. Tilde ran out of the bedroom in terrified delight.

- I guess I’ll have to eat you, then, Peter said and looked under the bed.

Two wide-open eyes stared back at him. — Then you’re gonna have a bellyache, Nerisa said matter-of-factly. — Think of all the bones and guts you’re gonna need to chew through. Yuck! Besides, I don’t think mum wiped my bottom good enough this morning. So you’re gonna have to eat some poo, too. The thought that granddad might have to eat poo, triggered a giggle.

- Yes, I think you’re right. Better to eat Tilda after all, then? Nerisa nodded in agreement from under the bed.

A sigh escaped him while he put his slippers on. It looked like it would take a while before he could test his superpowers. Perhaps he should start thinking about a costume? He had been quite good with fabric when he was younger. What about something along the lines of the costume Christan Bale wore as Batman? A combination of kevlar and leather. And a mask, naturally. He needed a mask to hide his true identity.

He studied himself in the bathroom mirror. Not exactly what would pass as the body of a superhero. Too many late night dinners and drinks had given him a bit of a pot belly.

- If you were to live in Mexico, your pot belly would have been a sign of prosperity and success, his wife, Carolin used to say. She then usually continued with: — But then again, you are no Mexican, are you Peter?

It had to go. No question about it. Perhaps some sort of girdle? Only until he managed to lose some weight, of course.

He didn’t look too bad, he decided. No visible lines on his face. His hair almost the same shade of dark brown as when he had been a young man. And his upper body could just as well belong to any man half his age. Well, perhaps not half his age, but certainly someone ten years younger.

Then there was the question about the name. He needed a name. Something that matched his superpowers perfectly.

Super-Peter?

No. Too obvious. He looked at himself in the mirror and blushed. Silly.

But how about his own name written backward?

Retep.

Dr. Retep?

Captain Retep?

No. Absolutely mental.

He decided to take some time to think it over. It had to be something that sounded both enigmatic and heroic when the newspapers started running stories about him. It had to be a name that was catchy.

Or perhaps he should try out his superpowers as a villain? A criminal mastermind with his own underground lair?

Nah. Who did he think he was fooling? He didn’t have the chops to become a criminal. The consciousness would kill him. Furthermore, it would probably cost a fortune to run a criminal syndicate. And how about that payroll? Keeping a small army of thugs employed would be more working hours than he was willing to put in. And there would surely be questions about health benefits, dental care and paid vacation days. Not to mention the mandatory shark-tank and lava-filled pits. He had seen enough James Bond moves to know that any super-villain with respect for himself needed at least a couple of megalomaniacal death-devices to earn the respect of his equals. The more he thought about this, the more he became convinced that he’d be better off a hero.

Oh, and he needed some sort of vehicle. The old Peugeot in the driveway wouldn’t do. No, sir. It wouldn’t do at all.

- So we’re quite pleased with ourselves, are we? Caroline’s voice suddenly filled the room. — Are you coming? Surely, you haven’t forgotten that you are to take both Tilda and Nerisa to the amusement park? Happy birthday, by the way. She gave him a sloppy kiss on his forehead. She was wearing the perfume he had given her on her 50th birthday. She smelled of lily of the valley and lilac, and he thought about how much he loved her.

Should he tell her what had happened? He knew himself well enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about it very long. Besides, she had this uncanny ability to guess all his secrets, anyway. There was no way he was able to keep this hidden from her for very long, he decided. Furthermore, he would need her skills for when his costumes needed repairs.

- Happy birthday, dad, Beatrice said when he sat down at the kitchen table. — I hope the girls didn’t give you a hard time? She gave him a malicious smile, well aware that she herself had been equally high strung as a kid.

- No worries, Peter said. -By the way, where’s Frank?

Beatrice looked down at her plate, avoiding his eyes. — Frank’s in Lisbon.

- Again?

- They’re in crunch mode, Beatrice said. — The final stage before the app is approved. Frank says he needs to be there for quality assurance.

- That’s too bad. I was hoping to see him today. Well, at least I get to spend the day with my favorite girls. All three of them, he added and got a forced smile from his daughter. — I can’t think of a better way to spend my birthday.

If only Beatrice knew what had happened, he thought while cracking the top of his egg with a teaspoon, As always it was cooked to perfection. The outer layer of the yolk had just begun to harden. Just as he preferred it. He turned around and mouthed an “I love you” to Caroline.

While he was eating he tried to think of a time during the day when he could be alone and try out his new superpowers. He was supposed to take Tilde and Nerisa to meet up with Caroline and Beatrice downtown for lunch after the visit to the amusement park. He had then promised Caroline to go shopping for new curtains ( just the thought of this gave him goosebumps ). Not quite the superhero life, was it? He couldn’t think of any other superhero witch such a dull private life. Then again, it was in his own interest from this point on to keep up an appearance as a dull-as-dust granddad. And as far as secret identities were concerned, what could be better than the disguise as a 50-year old grandad celebrating his birthday with the family?

Perhaps he was on to something there?

Granddad?

Super-granddad?

It lacked something, didn’t it? And it didn’t sound intimidating at all. He needed a name that would scare the living daylights out of the bad guys.

Peter took a sip of the coffee. He silently cursed himself. Why was it so bloody hard to come up with a name that didn’t make him sound like a blithering idiot or like a 12-year old with a complete lack of imagination? He remembered how he used to lie awake at night as a boy and dream up the most amazing names for all the superheroes he would create when he became a comic book writer. He recalled some of the names from back then: Captain Chaos, The Volt Man and Kong Kong. He shook his head in disgust by himself.

Kong Kong? Probably the stupidest name for a superhero in the history of stupid names. He decided he should go down to the basement later that evening. Surely he would be able to get some ideas from his comic book collection.

He wiped some yolk from his tie and thanked Caroline for a lovely breakfast. Nerisa clung to his left leg while screaming for attention.

- Are we going yet, grandad? Are we?

- Yes, we are. Right now, he said and was met with shouts of joy that made his eardrums wince in terror.

On the doorstep he stopped for a second and whispered in Caroline’s ear: — Tonight I’m gonna tell you a secret. A big one.

- Where’s your mind, grandad, Tilde asked when all three of were running for shelter from the rain at the amusement park. The children’s carousel hadn’t been exciting enough for Nerisa so now they were heading for the big rollercoaster.

He met her stare and thought about how much she resembled her grandmother. Not only in the way she used to open her lips ever so slightly when she was happy, but also the eerie ability to see right through him. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to tell his granddaughter about the metamorphosis he had gone through.

He squatted, reached out and touched her shoulder. — I was thinking about how it felt to be 50 years old because I wanted to know if it was any different from yesterday.

- Because yesterday you were only 49?

He nodded.

- And?

- And, what?

- Did you notice any difference?

- No, Tilde. I don’t. I feel exactly like I felt yesterday and the day before.

- You’re so funny, grandad. I felt a big difference on my fifth birthday, Nerisa said. — Before that, I was soooooo little. She held her hands so the palm of her hands almost touched. — And then I was soooooo big. In her eagerness, she almost knocked a plastic cup out of the hands of a teenager next to her.

- You didn’t, Tilde said.

- Did so, Nerisa said.

- You can’t feel different from one day to the next, Tilde said with a cocksure tone in her voice.

- Did so, Nerisa said. She emphasized the weight of her argument by sitting down on the rain-soaked walkway.

By the time it was their turn on the ride, Peter was convinced that all three of them was going to catch a cold the next day. He could feel how the tepid rainwater slowly worked its way into his underwear. I bet Iron Man never had this problem, he thought, as the ladybug-shaped car made a stop in front of them.

Wait. Ladybug? That’s a thought. He envisioned a costume in red and black. Maybe with two antennas on the helmet? Or should he wear a hood instead?

Bug Man?

The Man-bug?

Nah. To similar to Marvel’s Ant-Man. But he was definitely on to something. He silently cursed Marvel Comics and DC Comics. Why were all the good names taken?

He was still in deep thought when the safety bar clicked shut and the screaming of 50 children, high on sugar, started simultaneously.

- Did you all have a good time? Caroline asked and looked at the puddle on the floor.

- Do the pope crap in the woods? he answered breathlessly while trying to suppress a cough. Tilde and Nerisa had managed to become friends and bitter rivals at least five times during the ride from the amusement park. Luckily they had ended on a friendly note by the time they’d arrived, and were now best friends forever.

- Grandad tried to check on how it felt to be old, Nerisa said.

- His face turned all red when I asked what he was thinking of. Nerisa and Tilde put their faces together and started to giggle. Nerisa wasn’t sure why she was laughing, but as always, copied what her older sister was doing.

- Did he now? Caroline said. — He’s officially a boring, old fart now, you know.

This made the two sisters giggle even more. A snot bubble suddenly materialized out of Nerisa’s nose and neither Peter, Caroline or Beatrice could keep it in any longer.

- My stomach hurts, said Nerisa when the waiter had brought them all menu’s.

- That’s because you couldn’t stop laughing, said Caroline.

- Grandma, is it true that you can laugh yourself to death? Tilde asked with a worried look on her face.

- No, dear. It’s impossible.

- But Sebastian at schools says you can.

- Is this the same Sebastian that once told you that chickens are manufactured in factories?

- Yeah.

- And is this the same Sebastian that once told you that if you sit on an egg long enough you eventually will give birth to a chicken?

- Yes.

- Sebastian is an imbecile, my dear.

- Mum! You can’t say that. Don’t you know how kids tell everything? Beatrice tried her very best to keep a straight face, but Peter could see how she was struggling not to laugh.

- Oh, I know very well, darling. You were once seven years old as well, you know.

- Perhaps we should order? Peter said. He was getting more and more restless. It was almost six o’clock and he was dying to try out his superpowers. He had even settled on a name.

- I could really use a hot meal right now, he said. Soup and steak, maybe? With some mulled wine to accompany it.

Peter suddenly felt an overwhelming sensation of love. He looked around the table. Caroline. Beatrice. Tilde and Nerisa. The people in his life. The love he felt for them was almost suffocating and he had to turn his face away.

He had to tell them. Not now. But soon. Tomorrow.

His secret felt like it was about to burst out of his chest and he fought back the tears that threatened to come flooding out.

Tomorrow.

- What’s the matter? You look as you have something stuck in your throat. Beatrice leaned over and put her hand on his shoulder.

- It’s nothing, he said. — Nothing at all. Now, how about some dessert? I heard from a reliable source that the ice-cream they have here is so large that there is a danger to the ice cream eating you instead of you eating the ice cream.

Tilde and Nerisa looked at each other.

- That’s not possible, granddad, they said in unison.

- No? Well, we shall see.

They were all eating their dessert when Caroline turned to him and smiled. She didn’t say anything, though. He looked back at her. She was wearing a pair of jewel ear cuffs in the shape of a vine branch. He couldn’t remember buying them. Maybe she bought them herself? Or had he simply forgotten getting her the pair? The latter was most likely. Caroline very rarely bought herself jewelry. He also noticed a few strands of grey hair. She hadn’t done anything to try to hide it and he loved her for that.

His heart began to race when he thought about what to tell her. What would she say? How would she react? Most likely she would be frightened at first. But she would eventually understand. He was sure of it.

- Then there’s just you and me, then, Caroline said outside the restaurant after they had waved goodbye to Beatrice, Tilde and Nerisa.

- So how does monsieur wish to spend the rest of the day? Her eyes reflected the light from inside the restaurant. They sent all kinds of signals and he couldn’t help crack a hopeful smile. — Not too old to help an old lady scratch a certain itch, I hope?

- Not at all, madame, he said. — In fact, I got a few ideas of my own how to scratch that itch of yours. But before that, I need some time alone.

- Secrets?

Peter smiled but said nothing.

- I’m shocked, she said in mock surprise. — You could tell me, but then you’d have to kill me and all that?

- Something like that, yes. He pulled her close and kissed her. Neither said anything for a while.

- Don’t be too late, she said when she walked away. — I’ll open a bottle of wine and you can tell me all about your secret when you get home.

It was almost midnight when he came home. Caroline had fallen asleep on the coach. The TV was on with the volume muted. He recognized the movie. Dennis Villeneuve’s “Enemy”. One of his favorites. He sat down and watched the end of the move while contemplating on how to best demonstrate his superpowers for Caroline. They had turned out to be far more powerful than he’d imagined. He suspected that he had only scratched the surface of what he was capable of. There was more to it than just the things he had been able to do during the evening. There was more. Much more. He could feel it in every bone in his body. What he hadn’t anticipated was how exhausting the whole thing was.

When he awoke the next day, the first thing he noticed was that his superpowers were gone. He had fallen asleep next to Caroline on the couch. A narrow strip of sunlight shone through the blinds and illuminated Caroline’s face. He woke her with a kiss.

- When did you get home last night? she asked.

- Very late. I’m sorry, he said.

- And the big secret?

- It was nothing, really. Just a middle-aged man’s boyhood dream that came to life for a short while.

She looked at him, puzzled.

He looked back at her and smiled: — Pancakes for breakfast?

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