*Sigh* I both love and hate this story. I love it because I consider it to be my best but I hate it because of why I wrote it. Let's start from the beginning (a very good place to start). About a couple months back I heard about the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. I decided to enter this story. I think it's pretty good, and I spent a lot of time editing it, but the judges didn't think it was so great. In other words I lost. Still, I'm not holding any grudges and I do think it'd be fun for you guys to read. So here it is. Pull up a seat, get some popcorn and enjoy: "Every Night".
The Story
Every night, it happens. Every night, I lie in bed and wonder if
she’ll come home. Every night, I hope
she returns safely. Every night, I
wonder how long this can go on. Every
night, I cry myself to sleep. Every
night.
My wife, there’s no real way to say
this without sounding like I’m bragging.
My wife is superhero. “Techno Girl”; maybe you’ve heard of her? Of course you’ve heard of her. It’s
impossible not to hear of her. It seems I can’t take a step without seeing her
on a newspaper, a TV screen, or even on the internet. I didn’t marry her knowing this, since we’ve
only been married two years, but I found out about what she was soon enough.
She has this… gift: the ability to
make technology fight for her. I think
this is what qualifies her to dress up and rush off to fight crime. Her career choice leaves me at home
alone. I should probably thank her or even
be proud of her. Without her I’d be
enslaved to some evil overlord. That
doesn’t keep me from worrying though, and I always do.
When she finally does come home
(and so far she always has), she’s always covered in bruises, and sometimes
there are burns. I always pretend to be
asleep when she comes home wounded. If I tried to say anything, my problems
wouldn’t go away. It would just make
matters worse. Sky, which is her real
name, is stubborn like that. Though what other kind of person would do what she
does? She claims that she helps people,
and I have no doubt that she does, but it always seems like I’m the third
wheel.
The problem is that… I want to help
her. I just feel this need to help and
protect which is what husbands should do. She may protect the city, but who
protects her? That role should fall to
me, but have you seen the people she fights?
How am I supposed to protect her from the guy with lasers coming out his
eyes? How can I protect her when she has
the power to protect herself?
Sometimes I feel like a useless bag.
It holds everything in it and then is tossed to the side. Then other times I feel like a luxury,
something only for when she has extra time (which isn’t often, At least she’s
not one of those heroes that have big, bright signals in the sky. I’d never see her again). There are other times when I feel like I’m
being unreasonable and needy, like a child.
Then sometimes I feel like I should have left long ago, but there’s a
problem with that: I love her. I love every single part of her, and I just
can’t leave her.
There was one time I almost showed
myself the door. The one time I didn’t
pretend or lie. I didn’t know when she
was going to be home that night, so I was in the living room, trying to calm my
nerves by watching TV. It was some
reality show about people who worked in a hospital. Right
in the middle of it, she crawled in through the window. I could barely recognize her! Her hair was frayed and singed. Every time she moved there was a crunching
sound, and her skin was charred black, like she had fallen into a barbeque
pit. The smell was horrid. She smelled like smoke and ozone. Though despite all that, she was smiling, and
I knew she was smiling because of what she had just done.
“Hey sweetie.” she croaked. “Mind if I join you?”
“Oh my god! What happened?!”
“Oh,
just a little run in with Bolt.” She
sounded like one of the patients on the hospital show.
She tried to get up and walk but
instead fell down on the floor. As I
looked at her trying to get up once more, I realized how much it hurt me to see
her like this. Whenever she came home
hurt, I always hurt too.
“Who’s Bolt
again?” I never kept up with the people
she fought; I think I’d worry more if I did.
She coughed and managed to croak, “The
lightning guy.”
“You
were hit with lightning?” I screamed.
“Only five times.” This time she smiled.
“Oh my god,” I whispered. I covered my eyes for a moment, and then I
really looked at her. I looked at her
lying on the floor. Her costume was
torn, her pale skin was burned to a crisp, and it smelled like fire. In spite of all the damage, she was still
smiling. I sat down on the floor beside
her, and gently lifted her head into my lap.
“Who’d you save this time?” I asked.
She
grinned even bigger. “Bolt was robbing a
bank, he even had a hostage, I put an end to that.”
“How’d you beat him?”
“The bank,” she struggled for breath.
“Was giving out,” she coughed and choked a bit trying not to laugh. “Toasters,” she grinned again. “Ever had your hand toasted?” Then she coughed, and I looked down at her
and decided I couldn’t do it anymore.
“I can’t handle this.”
“Handle what? Handle me?” She started to ask.
“Stop!
Just listen; I just want you to listen for once! I-I can’t handle you coming home hurt every
night. I don’t like to see you like
this!” I gestured at her wounded
body. The TV was still going, but no one
seemed to care.
“Troy…”She whispered, but she never
finished.
“I love you” I said. “But I can’t stand to see you hurt!” She was quiet; for once I had actually
stopped her.
I
was still thinking about walking out, but then I looked around our
apartment. We were sitting in the tiny
living room where the couch took up half the space. Just a step away was our kitchen with a table
squeezed into the corner. Down the five
foot long hallway was our bed and bathroom.
We didn’t really have a lot; she wouldn’t have a lot if I left. All we really had was each other. How much would leaving change? She would still be a superhero, just a
depressed one. She wouldn’t smile as
often, and I really do love her smile.
“Troy,” she tried again. “I do these things to help people. You know why I can’t just quit.”
“I know!” I cried. “I know,” I said quieter.
I
did know what she was talking about. Sky
hadn’t always been a hero. When she had
first started out, she was a villain.
Not an insane one, but she still hadn’t been acting like a good
person. All she really did was rob
banks, and she never hurt anyone. She
just threatened, or that’s what she told me.
She says no one was ever hurt, except for one person. One person was all it took. One day, Sky went too far. She didn’t know the extent of her powers, and
she accidently killed someone. It was
terrible. I think that was her wake up call. She got a new costume along with a new name
and set out to try to make up for it.
She was never punished because no one ever made the connection between
retired villain Technora and brand new superhero Techno-girl. I think Sky is still beating herself up over
it though. She didn’t tell me until our
second year together. No matter how many
lives she saves, her sins as Technora still loom over her.
“Sky, I just… I just wish I could be there
for you more.” I said.
She smiled at me and said, “Troy you are
there for me, every day and every night.
You give me a reason to come home.” We were both quiet again. “You know, when I’m in those fights, I always
think of you.” She paused and smiled, “That’s
what gives me the strength to win every time.”
Now it was my turn to smile. She really
did need me. So I reached over, turned
off the TV and said, “We might want to get some sleep. It helps to heal the broken body.”
“Yeah,
yeah, Thank God It’s Friday, I wouldn’t want to go into work looking like a
piece of wood out of a campfire.” She laughed and I laughed, we laughed for a
long time. We when we stopped I got up to go to bed, but she pulled on my arm
and whispered: “Stay.” So in the end we
fell asleep on the living room floor. We
did argue after that we argued a lot, it’s hard not to, but from then on we
understood each other just a bit better.
And I never thought about leaving again.
