But I found I was blindsided by Raiya’s absence. The light inside of me was gone, and so was she. I didn’t know how awful the vengeance of darkness and despair could be before that moment. But then that moment came, and I knew and it was enough for my own heart to die a star’s death, and cave in on itself till there was nothing left, with the fullness of my emptiness crushing me from all sides with unimaginable strength and power.
It had to have been grace that saved me, because I could not, would not, have saved myself.
*☼*
When I woke up again, I saw a shadow shifting outside the door.
“Well, come in,” I called out. “I can see you.”
I wasn’t that surprised to see Mikey walk through the door.
“So,” he said tentatively, “you’re awake.”
I frowned at him.
“You’ve looked worse,” he said. He was obviously trying to cheer me up, and possibly avoid apologizing to me. I wasn’t up for either one.
“What are you doing here?” I grumbled. “I thought Dante told you to stay away.”
“Well, he also told my mother they would be together until death do they part,” he retorted.
“I thought he was your buddy now.”
“He never really was,” Mikey gave me a small smile. “I know I said that he was before, but I was just using him to see if he could help Gwen.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. Mikey didn’t seem that smart.
He blushed, and I was surprised as I realized I could still read people’s emotions. They were still responding to my scrutiny in color, too, just as before. His embarrassment and humiliation leapt off him as he tried to conceal it.
“Well, anyway, he told me that he’s got a new project, and so he’s leaving again,” Mikey admitted.
“Where is he going?” I asked, surprised. Dante told me before that Otherworld had been let go, but SWORD was still an active force in Apollo City. Was it possible that they had just come to stop Draco and the Sinisters, and all them, really?
“I don’t know,” Mikey said. “I hope far away though. For you more than me,” he added. “I know you probably don’t want to see him right now.”
I snorted. “If I ever see him again, it’ll be too soon. He told me that I had to die to save the city, you know.”
“He did?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you?”
Not well enough, I thought. But instead, I shrugged. “No.”
“Well, that’s good.” Mikey smiled at me, but I just glared at him.
“I get that it’s your turn to be upset,” he said. “I wanted to say I was sorry for everything, and I hope we can still be friends.”
“Friends don’t normally have the issues we do,” I retorted. But I remembered what Raiya said before, about having relationships tested, and as I shoved her further from my mind, I relented. “But I know you’ll need the help graduating on time.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Mikey agreed. He seemed a bit happier. I hoped it wasn’t just because I implied I’d help him with his homework.
“So,” he said, “when are you getting out of here?”
“I don’t know,” I told him truthfully. Part of me didn’t want to leave. That meant I would have to go on living, and there was no reason to do that now that Raiya was gone. The hospital had always been this depressing place of death for me. Now, it was a depressing place of stillness, where I couldn’t go back, and I couldn’t go forward, almost like a purgatory that smelled like cleaning alcohol.
“Can you move?” he asked.
“I suppose. Why?” I asked. I wondered if he was going to make me go down to the cafeteria with him. It was the sort of thing I could expect from Mikey.
So I was surprised when he said, “I thought you’d want to go and see Gwen and the others,” he said. “They’ve all woken up.”
“I don’t know … ”
He tugged at my arm, the one with the large gash in it from Raiya’s arrow, and I winced in pain. He didn’t notice. “Come on. It’ll be good for you. I’ve already talked with her some. She’s just down a few floors.”
I didn’t care, I reminded myself, but Mikey did, and shrugging him off would likely cause me more pain, physically.
So we went down to the room, arriving just as Gwen was getting checked out.
I noticed that her auburn hair was much longer, and seemed to be darker closer to the roots.
I wished I could say that she was happy to see me.
The moment she saw me, her honey-colored eyes darkened. “Well, if it isn’t my least favorite ex.”
I gave Mikey a look that said, “I told you so,” before turning back to Gwen. “Hi, Gwen.”
“You have some nerve, showing up here,” she muttered. “You let me get captured, and you didn’t save me.”
I didn’t bother to tell her that technically, I did save her, and everyone else, too. I just let her vent. Her words couldn’t hurt me anymore, and thankfully, since Dante had mentioned he was releasing a statement to say that both Starry Knight and Wingdinger died in the blast that occurred, she couldn’t blackmail me anymore.
I considered it the truth anyway.
As I listened to Gwen as she continued to ramble on, and I watched Mikey as he tried to get her to stop, I realized something uncomfortably inconvenient.
I was not the only one was who in pain. I was still pretty sure that I was the only one who would be in pain for the rest of his life, though.
So I decided to try to help Gwen.
I tapped her on the shoulder. “What is it that you’re really angry with me over, Gwen?” I asked. “I mean, really?”
It’s hard to downplay getting your soul sucked out by a demonic being bent on destroying the universe, but I managed.
“I’m angry that you didn’t love me,” Gwen finally admitted, as fresh tears swelled up in her eyes. “I would’ve loved you forever, if you’d only have let me.”
I’m glad I didn’t.
I didn’t tell her that, though.
“I’m sorry,” I said. That’s all I could say. I didn’t tell her it was her fault (even though it mostly was) and I didn’t tell her that I loved someone else more (which was definitely true) and I didn’t tell her that I wanted to be friends or fix anything (which would have been brutal, to be honest).
So I let her know that I was worthy of her hatred more than her love, and I let Mikey take over when she needed a shoulder to cry on.
As I walked out of the room, I turned back to look at them. As terrible as the whole situation was, I wasn’t jealous of them. I wished I had Raiya, but I didn’t. Some part of me knew that I would have to go on without her. But all of me knew that Mikey and Gwen deserved to get their chance to be together, and I hoped that it made them happy. I silently wished them all the best as the door swung shut behind me.
☼17☼
The Real Battle
The following months were speckled with waking moments, where I found myself back to acting like myself.
Grieving privately, I was ashamed that I had been found to be a fool. Who was I, to think I was anything or anyone important, or that my life would leave a mark on the world in which I lived? Accomplishments I may have had, but they were nothing in the light of eternity. Actually, I don’t think nothing is the best word to describe it. They were more like eclipses, shadowing the real meaning of true meaning from me even further, removing me from the truth found only in choosing to face the stark, unfiltered starlight.
There were a million, million times when I wished that the meteorite had just damaged the city when it’d struck. Easily half of those were wished after Raiya was gone.
Only once, after high school was over, did I go out to the ruins of Rosemont Academy, where my sword remained stuck. A demolition group was working on the area, trying to turn it into an underground mall. My sword would eventually become its centerpiece. I figured it was appropriate, in many ways. The meteorite had struck into the heart o
f the earth, unleashing the enemy’s ambitions. My sword, and the power behind it, had stopped it.
My friends never said anything much to me about that year of school, and if they did, it was silenced it quickly enough.
Mikey managed to prove somewhat useful in the end, acting as my advocate more than he had to. I could tell he was never entirely certain of my position on his position in my life, but, true to his nature and our habits, he clung to me like a second shadow.
Things changed a bit when he got a swim scholarship to Ohio State. Coach Uzzy was so proud of him.
Gwen was even more hesitant, even more terrified of me. There was one time between the moments and months of time continuing where she looked at me, caught my eye, and tried to say something.
She was walking toward the auditorium of the school, no doubt going to see Mr. Lockard, the old drama teacher, who had also been awakened from his soulless state, as he came to work beside Ms. Carmichael on the school play, Pippin.
Our eyes met more by accident, and in them, I could see she wanted to ask me for something. But it was something I was not sure I wanted to give her, so when I turned away, that seemed to be the end of it. She shied away from me for the rest of the year, and several years after that as well.
Before I knew it, the school year was over. Soon after, summer was over.
My sabbatical from work was over. I went back, finishing up another month with Assistant Mayor Dunbooke and then finishing out the rest of Mayor Mills’ tenure. I never called him Stefano again, and I decided I never wanted to run for mayor.
My mother’s business took off.
My dad’s work stayed about the same.
They made arrangements for me to get a car for college after I got my license.
I joined the football team again, much to Jason’s happiness, especially since I made good on my promise, and was given the quarterback position.
Samantha Carter, who had been one of the more annoying persons of interest during my high school years, was crowned homecoming queen. I was playing during the game, but when I got the chance, I came up to her, smiled, and congratulated her. It seemed like a nice thing for her, especially after all the time she’d been stuck in the sleeping sickness coma.
I also congratulated the homecoming king—her boyfriend, Guy Fitch.
Some part of me was very happy that they’d grown into their own, happy that they’d gotten something they’d wished for and wanted for so long. Even if I couldn’t be happy for myself, I was happy for them.
I got my SAT scores back. 2394. I’d missed a couple of questions on the English section.
I entered into Apollo City College’s dual enrollment program. In addition to some CLEP exams, I had sixty credits ready to transfer by the time the University of Pittsburgh accepted me, and a 4.2 GPA.
I broke four of my previous swim records.
I skipped prom the following year. Instead, I went on a “vacation” with my mom instead, as she negotiated some contracts for some company in the Czech Republic.
I was able to keep my title of “Tetris King.” Once high school ended, I never picked my Game Pac up again.
Nothing big. Nothing grand. It was a normal life, just the one I wanted, and I hated most of it.
☼18☼
Martha
Time continued to pass, even if my pain did not.
Even my body seemed to get the message. The golden halo effect, which had clung to me in my prime superhero days, dimmed and eventually disappeared. Even my blondish hair faded back to brown, and even seemed to get darker, slowly slipping away from me as I slipped back into the “real world.”
Despite my “normal” life, I had some more surprises coming at me, as if pain demanded that it be a forever part of that “normal” adage.
First, Mrs. Smithe retired at the end of my 11th grade year.
As I walked down the halls, headed for my locker at the end of the day, she pulled me aside.
We didn’t say a word as we walked into her half-empty classroom. But the moment the door shut, and the rest of the world was shut out, she told me the truth.
She was leaving me, too.
“What? Why?!” Her admission finally allowed me to give a proper vent to some of the suffocating grief I carried.
“Do you know why I told you I worked for SWORD before?” she asked.
“No.” I snorted. “I don’t.”
“I told you,” she said, “because I know what it is like to be without hope. I know what it is like to lose the people you love most, and have nothing left.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” I balked.
“Because time and death are not permanent things,” Martha said. “Not in the way that you think, anyway. Remember what I told you before? Your life is not about you. There must be something greater.”
I watched her as she started slapping books and papers into a small box on her desk.
“Raiya’s gone,” I choked out, barely able to say her name. I found that it was much easier to pretend I was getting better if I didn’t think about her. “I don’t have anything greater.”
“Her love is still real,” Martha reminded me gently. “For her sake, find something greater.”
I thought about Adonaias, about doing the right thing. Starlight Warrior duty was no longer an option, but even if it had been, I would’ve rejected it, just as I rejected Adonaias.
Rather than tell Martha the truth, I shrugged. “I don’t know what it is yet.”
“Extraordinary things come from ordinary places,” she said. “You might just find something.”
“What did you find?” I asked. “After SWORD killed your husband and son?”
I didn’t mean to be mean about it, but my voice had a hard edge, one I knew was only half-intentional.
Martha came over to me and gave me a hug. It was awkward and tense, but strangely comforting in its stiffness. I could feel Martha’s bony back and, despite her small frame, I felt the strength inside of her and her heart.
“I didn’t find anything,” she told me. “I was the one who was found.”
Her cryptic remark made me jerk away. I was done with the pseudo-intellectual-spiritual-emotional crap. From that moment on, I only wanted to concern myself with what I could see and what I could touch and what I could understand.
“Thanks,” I muttered, trying to hide my hurt. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“See that you do,” Martha said. “I expect law school will give you plenty to think about.”
“You heard I got accepted to Pitt?”
“Of course.” She gave me a small smile. “Your mother’s very proud. She sent me a thank you note for preparing you.”
“I’m surprised.”
“I’m not.” Martha picked up her coffee cup. “No one who knows you well would have second-guessed you.”
I nodded. “Thanks.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“You’ll do well in college, too,” Martha said. “I know you will.”
I nodded.
“Maybe we’ll see each other again.”
“Why?” I asked. “Are you going to go teach law or something in Pittsburg?”
“No.” She grinned this time. “I’m retiring from teaching, and I’m going to go back to law school myself.”
“I thought you already had your degree in law.”
“Well, yes,” she said, “but it’s always been a dream of mine to go into practice. I need some more continuing education for that.”
“Why are you going now?”
She glanced up at me. “Hamilton,” she said, “there is a proper time for everything. I can’t teach you any further, and I’ve reached my work requirement for my teacher’s pension. For the moment, SWORD is leaving the city, and I have decided to leave, too. The time has come for me to move on.”
I nodded again, more slowly this time. There was something to be said for timing, and I knew there was especially a time for retirement. If you can get one without
the money worries, it was a good thing.
Reaching out, I took her hand. “Well,” I said, “maybe I’ll see you around Pitt, then.”
“I’ve been accepted into Duquesne,” she said. “But I’ll be around in the city if you need a friend.”
“A friend?” I asked, smiling for the first time in what seemed like a long time. I felt like an ancient old man, whose face was sunburned into submission, only to feel it crinkle and crack by the force of a miracle.
“Yes. I’m retiring, and you’ll be eighteen next year.” She sighed. “I suppose you can call me Martha now.” She glanced at me over her thick-rimmed glasses. “Officially.”
Shock, along with warmth, struck me in the heart, briefly breaking through the numbness that had settled in me in the last few weeks.
“Thank you,” I finally replied, my voice soft.
Martha took my hand and squeezed it affectionately. “Now, skedaddle,” she said. “I’ve got to finish cleaning out my room for the new teacher.”
On some level, I knew, or at least I believed, that it would be the last time I saw her. Certainly, it would be the last time I left her classroom.
It was a moment that, like the previous moments of pain, should have broken me.
And maybe it did.
As I left her classroom, I felt the last of my teenage innocence slip away. I had worked all my life in classrooms, only to find that the real world didn’t let you keep your troubles in nice, neat compartments. I’d known this before, but never realized until I walked out, full of certainty of Martha’s approval, how uncertain life suddenly seemed. I was grateful for that—that small, unchanging element of life, as the rest of it all rocked around me, moved by the earthquakes of the moments and the shifting sands of the seconds.
As that chapter of my childhood closed, I felt a new one begin, one where weakness slumbered on, strength swiftly stirred.
For the moment—that moment, at least—I was comforted. I was not better, I was not unburdened, I was not past my pain. But I was comforted, and it strengthened me. It was enough to get me to the next moment, and the moment after that, and the next one after that.