Foresight: A Superhero Story

19. Strain

"Roland." I gently shook his shoulder. "Roland, get up."

"Hm?" His forehead furrowed in a way that made my heart flutter.
This guy could sleep through world war III.

"It's late. You should go home."

He opened his eyes, squinting against the overhead light. "How late?" Roland took a deep breath and sat up in one fluid motion.

"Eight thirty."

He suddenly jumped to his feet. "I have to go. I'm afraid I'm late to a meeting." He rapidly gathered his briefcase and shoes.

"You have a meeting... At night?" My voice was skeptical.

Roland nearly toppled over while putting on his shoes. "Uh yeah. It's a stupid business thing my dad does on Fridays." He opened my door. "Drinks, steaks, cigars... It's boring as hell."

"Skip it then." I surprised myself with that request.

Wait... I don't want him to stay. Or maybe I do... I don't know anymore.

"I wish I could." Roland's eyes looked almost mournful. "But duty calls." He took a step out into the hallway of my apartment. "Let's get coffee tomorrow. I'll text you."

Before I could agree, Roland bounded down the hallway and rounded the corner to the stairwell. I stood in my doorway for a moment before closing it. I leaned my back against the door and sighed before sliding to the ground. I was exhausted from both the physical and emotional strain of the day.

My thoughts returned to Specter. I didn't trust the super. As a matter of fact, I found his presence frightening. Every interaction left me feeling on edge and frazzled my nerves. I felt so torn and conflicted around him. Part of me wanted Specter's help, and a more prideful part of myself rejected it. I knew I could do this on my own, but my battered and bruised body wondered how much longer I could keep going.

My phone began to ring, stopping my train of thought. I answered it with a croak. "Hello?"

"Sylvie, it's Mark. How are you feeling? Listen, I was wondering if you were going to make it to work tomorrow."

"Yeah. I'll be there."

"Oh... Okay. Good!" Mark sounded relieved. "I was just worried since you've been sick the last few days."

"I'm fine now. I'll see you tomorrow."

I hung up the phone with a sigh, realizing my life must go on. I slowly stood up and stretched. Once my body losened up, I headed to the bathroom. After showering, I stared at my underwear clad reflection in the foggy mirror. I was surprised to see a thin, tired looking woman staring back at me. A series of multicolored bruises were littered across my skin. I gently pressed a finger beneath my right eye. The dark circles aged me beyond my twenty six years.

I inspected the stitches on my side. Despite the strain I've put it through, my knife wound was healing nicely. I cautiously proded around the stitches, finding the area less tender. The memory of The butcher dragging my dazed body across the concrete floor flashed through my mind.

I shivered and pulled on a loose fitting T-shirt and leggings. Shaking the images from my mind, I combed my fingers through my hair before heading to my kitchen. I assembled a sandwich and ate it while I nestled into the couch. The cushions smelled like Roland. I inhaled deeply and smiled. Despite my initial misgivings, I was looking forward to having coffee with him.

I've never been able to meet anyone for coffee. The last thirteen years of sleep deprivation ruined any chances I had of routinely socializing. I desperately hoped for normality and friendship over the years. Being normal was out of the question, but friendship was maybe a feat I could manage. I thought a friendship with Roland would be a good place to start.

But where do I start?

I searched my mind. Most of what I learned of friendship was gleaned from after school TV shows and movies. Realizing that I was out of my element, I decided to forego any planning. Once Roland and I got to know each other, friendship should come naturally enough. As long as we had something in common.

Oh no... Do we have anything in common?

I racked my brain, thinking of every interaction I had with Roland. I knew he was wealthy, head of a medical technology department, and owed a debt to Specter. He took care of me after my run in with the butcher and spared no expense. Roland seemed like a nice person. If appeasing Specter was his only motivation, he wouldn't have checked on me today or asked me out to a coffee date. Roland would make a good friend.

I spent the next hour watching a corny romantic comedy. It felt good to chuckle at the female lead's dilemma. For some reason Roland's face appeared in my mind when the newly realized passion blossomed across the screen. I squeezed the pillow in my lap and drew my knees towards me. Taking a deep breath, I attempted to push Roland from my thoughts.

He'd never want someone like me.

I was certain Roland was the kind of guy who'd marry a neurologist or a politician's daughter. He was destined for great things. People like me, well, we're destined for average lives spent treading water. Maybe my life would be more interesting with my ever changing tattoos, but I would still spend my life living from paycheck to paycheck. I cradled my head in my hands.

Stop it. Thinking this way will get you nowhere.

I resigned my relationship with Roland to the friendship category. I would never get a taste of what Roland's inner circle was like. I could only hope to be an unconventional friend that he saw from time to time. I questioned how close I wanted to be with someone whose personality encompassed the sun.

Getting glimpses of a life I could only imagine in my wildest dreams stung. Seeing people like Roland made me wonder what my life would be like had my parents survived the accident. I imagined how my parents would have looked and how they would have acted as I grew up. Would they have grey hair? Would they be proud of me? What would they think of Roland? The what ifs hurt the most, making my heart lurch painfully within my chest. I felt a lone tear slip down my cheek as I sat alone in my dark apartment.