Super

Maxwell stood in front of a birch dresser with his left arm crossed over his chest and his right hand around his mouth, contemplating hard. He looked directly at his eleven year old boy, Jake, who sat in his small bed on top of his red-striped comforters waiting patiently and awkwardly. The walls of Jake’s room were sky blue; Jake kept it very clean. A bird started chirping pleasantly outside. It landed on the windowsill and cocked its head several times, chirping once more. Maxwell rushed to the window and waved the bird off, shutting the window. He stood up, stared at the window, and then shut the curtains aggressively.

Jake watched his father cross back in front of the dresser and pace, deep in thought. Maxwell placed his hand on the back of his neck and looked down. He took short breaths and held them, hoping the silence and little movement would bring clarity. Jake continued to watch his father and occasionally look at something random in the room to pass the time.

Maxwell slowly paced until he had faced the dresser and saw a picture of him and Jake when Jake was much younger. He picked up the picture frame and held it with two hands, smiling fondly. Maxwell quickly shook his head to wake himself out of the sudden distraction and slammed the picture frame back on the dresser, which toppled face down immediately.

Maxwell repositioned to face Jake, who continued to stare at him innocently; Maxwell put his left hand on his hip. He took a deep breath and used his right hand to motion words being drawn out of him, from his lungs to his mouth, twisting his wrist upwards, hoping he could find where to begin the conversation. He took the deep breath and held it, leaving his mouth open and contorting his lips into the first word – whatever it may be. Maxwell froze. Jake stared at him. Maxwell exhaled heavily and fluttered his lips. Nothing.

Maxwell brushed his hair with a single swipe of his right hand and flung his arms to his side, smacking against his legs. “I suppose there’s no better way to say it than to just say it, so I’ll say it,” Maxwell finally said. He cleared his throat and looked at his son. “Jake, I’m a superhero.”

Jake’s expression didn’t change; he simply stared at his father in utter confusion. “What?”

“I’m a superhero,” Maxwell repeated, staring at his son. “I am Captain Stalwart.”

Jake’s face still hadn’t changed. Maxwell glanced to his left wondering why it hadn’t registered to his son that his father was a superhero, one of great renown, and had saved the world on a few occasions. Maxwell clapped his hands together and rubbed them while he waited. “You know how I often travel for work?” Maxwell began to explain. “Well, I’m not really traveling—I mean, I suppose I am, through the sky… often. But you know what I mean. I don’t go to an office; I’m actually… fighting all those monsters and villains you keep hearing about.” Jake still stared at his father. Maxwell looked up and blew air out of his mouth, stumped on how his son still hadn’t processed this marvelous revelation.

“Ah! I can prove it,” Maxwell pointed confidently at Jake. Maxwell walked towards him and took a knee. He held up his left hand and cupped his palm. As Maxwell flexed his hand, a small ball of fire suddenly appeared floating above his left hand, suspended in the air. Maxwell raised his eyebrows and smiled with pride, like showing off a magic trick. But Jake just watched the fireball with a glazed look in his eyes. Maxwell glanced around in disbelief. He slowly brought his other hand up, cupped his palm, flexed, and conjured another small fireball over his right hand. Maxwell shook his head a little, as if to ask “Really?”

Suddenly, it clicked. “You’re Captain Stalwart?!” Jake exclaimed.

“Yes, yes!” Maxwell answered while trying to hush his son. Maxwell sighed, having finally proved it; he then held his hands open and faced them towards himself. “Yes. I am Captain Stalwart.”

“Wow!” Jake cheered and began to laugh. “Pops, you’re a superhero!”

Maxwell smiled joyfully, having impressed his son. “Yes, son.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Jake asked eagerly.

“I had to wait until you were older and, I suppose, when I thought it would be the right time.”

“Does mom know?”

“Yes, she knows.”

“Is Ma a superhero too?!” Jake gasped at the thought.

“Ah!” Maxwell shook his pointer finger. “What a splendid question. No.”

“She’s not?” Jake said disappointedly.

“No, not at all. Well, I suppose being a mother is close enough… but no, she doesn’t have any powers or that sort of thing.” Maxwell watched his son sink his head a little. “But,” Maxwell inflected excitedly, “you might be.”

Jake’s mouth began to drop and his eyes widened at the thought. “Really?” he asked very slowly.

“That’s right! There’s a fifty-fifty shot you got my genes instead of your mother’s, and since you’re a male, the odds are in your favor. Now…” Maxwell stood up and held his hands in front of his chest, preparing to ask an important question. “Have you noticed any… changes in your body?”

Jake thought about it, pushing his mouth to the side. “Well,” he began softly, looking down in shame, “when I see a girl that I like, sometimes… I get this weird feeling, and it can make my—” he pointed towards his pants.

“No! No! Not those kinds of changes!” Maxwell shouted. “I meant strange feelings in your hands or in your arms; like how I can shoot fire out of my hands or fly or my super strength.”

Jake thought about it, pushing his mouth to the other side. “I don’t think so.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve tried anything, having just found out your father is a superhero...” Maxwell snapped his finger suddenly and perked up. “Now there’s an idea! Come with me, son. I’m going to show you something.”

Maxwell lead Jake to their living room – a simple, traditional living room with a leather couch, side tables on either side, a coffee table in the middle on a large bear skin rug. Maxwell approached a stone fireplace and stood by the mantel. He gripped one of the stones and pulled it out, revealing a hollowed hole with a small red button inside. Maxwell looked back at his son and smiled, warning Jake to get ready. Maxwell pushed the button.

The firewood inside was attached to the floor panel it was on, and the panel suddenly flipped down, opening a hatch. Maxwell walked towards the hatch, ducked into the fireplace, and fell down the hole. Jake couldn’t believe it, he stared giggling. “Awesome!”

“Jump down here, son! I’ll catch you!” Maxwell shouted from down the hatch. Jake approached the fireplace and looked down. He saw darkness all the way down except for a small square shaped hole of light at the bottom. Jake took a deep breath and let himself fall.

A roar of wind echoed off the walls of the chute as Jake plummeted downward. He started to flail his arms, becoming scared. Just as the light grew, Jake exited the chute; Maxwell caught him in his arms.

Jake reoriented himself and looked around. He was inside a massive lair with technology he had never seen before. There was a wall with several monitors broadcasting news channels from around the globe, reporting different disasters and unusual sightings in space. Jake looked to his left and saw a training ground with different robot arms and test dummies to simulate fights and practice combat. He looked to his right and saw a glass tube with his father’s superhero suit inside.

Jake realized he wasn’t on the ground yet; Maxwell was flying through the lair. “This… is where I work, son,” Maxwell said humbly.

Jake admired everything. “Whoa,” he whispered.

Maxwell floated down towards the training grounds and landed in the center. The floor was silver-blue with targets marked on the floor and numbers counting the distance between one side and the other. Robot arms and heavy machinery hung overhead in a daunting display. “Does anyone else know you’re a superhero, Pops?” Jake asked almost dazedly as he spun in a circle to look at everything above him.

“Certain politicians and leaders do, yes. I can’t quite fund all this myself, you see,” Maxwell admitted. “And there is someone that makes all this for me. And my suit.”

“You have a suit maker?”

“Yes, after certain battles I might need some stitching or if someone has a rather unique power I have to go up against, we try to make some material resistant to it.”

“Who makes your suit?”

“Her name is Eden—she actually designed that crest on my suit. I suppose it’s sort of become my logo as Captain Stalwart.”

Jake looked at the suit from afar. He could see the grey body with the red and yellow gloves with boots that matched and the mask resting on a mannequin head. On the chest of the suit was the crest: a grey upside-down triangle with a red letter “C” with the bottom line of the letter connected the top of a yellow letter “S” beneath it. “Whoa…” Jake began to walk towards it.

“Just a moment, Jake,” Maxwell stopped him. “I need to teach you how to use your powers.”

Jake rejoined his father in the center of the training grounds. Maxwell readied a fighting stance opposite Jake, who stood with his arms limp by his side. “Alright, son, I want you to hit me.”

“Hit you?” Jake asked worriedly.

“Yes, give me your best shot! It won’t hurt – not even Zuul Hắgh, the desert god of planet Nilyon could keep me down for very long!” Jake took a step towards his father and swung into his stomach. Maxwell didn’t flinch. “Alright, now, really give it a whirl this time. Come on – chest up, shoulders square, twist your hips, and really drive in to me!” Maxwell ushered him to bring it on by gesturing with his hands to come closer. “Come on, Jake!”

Jake planted his feet and readied a fighting stance. He straightened his chest and squared his shoulders. He wound up his right fist and, twisting his right foot, spun towards Maxwell, striking his chest as hard as he could. Jake looked up. Maxwell didn’t flinch.

Maxwell lowered his arms and looked worried. “Well…” he thought aloud. “I suppose you’re still only eleven.” Jake swallowed and looked down, embarrassed. “Oh, come, come.” Maxwell placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Let’s try fire!”

“Fire?” Jake asked.

“Yes, you know how I can shoot fire out of my hands; let’s try that, shall we?”

“How do I do that?”

Maxwell started to speak but hesitated, realizing he didn’t know how to explain it. “Well, I suppose… I see. You just kind of... do it.”

“I just do it?”

“Well, it’s like if I were to teach someone to walk, you simply just do it. You know how to, I don’t have to explain to put left foot then right foot and so forth. With this, you simply hold out your hands, like so, and, I guess, clench a little, and…” A ball of fire emerged between Maxwell’s hands. “Viola!”

Jake held his hands out in front of himself and concentrated, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth. He clenched his muscles. His arms began to tremble a little. His face began to turn red.

“It’s not supposed to be that hard, Jake, don’t push yourself,” Maxwell guided.

Jake clenched and clenched but his hands were still empty. He exhaled from exhaustion, giving up. Maxwell lowered his arms, dispelling the fireball, and looked even more worried. He paused and stared at his son; Jake was too ashamed to look up.

“Flying!” Maxwell suddenly shouted. “Of course! Jake we’ll start with flying!”

“Pops,” Jake said solemnly.

“Up we go!” Maxwell quickly grabbed Jake by the arm and flew up.

“Pops, put me down!” Jake yelled.

“I will – I’m going to drop you, son!” Maxwell smiled wide.

“No, don’t put me down!” Jake yelled.

“Well, I’m not really going to drop you, you’re going to fly!”

“I can’t fly!”

“Of course you can! You have to be able to do something.”

“No, Pops, I can’t.” Jake looked up desperately at his father. “I don’t have any powers.” Maxwell looked down at his son, trying to deny the truth. “Please,” Jake pleaded sincerely. Maxwell hung his head. He floated downward towards the training grounds and gently placed Jake back on the floor. They looked at each other, both sorry about the outcome.

“I don’t have any super powers, Pops. I’m not like you.”

“I suppose we’ll try again in a year or two,” Maxwell wished optimistically.

“No,” Jake denied. “I’m just… I’m normal.” Jake stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet. Maxwell watched his son walk away from him, pouting his head as he approached his father’s superhero suit.

Jake admired the suit up close. He saw the molded biceps on the sleeves and the prominent chest that showcased the iconic crest, the crest that had saved the world. Jake realized his father was the greatest human in the universe, and he couldn’t be like him.

Jake saw a button next to the glass tube displaying his father’s suit. He pressed it. The wall beside the suit opened up and pushed out another glass tube. Inside was another suit, grey with red and yellow on the gloves and boots, and a mask pulled over a mannequin head to match his father’s suit. There was no crest or logo on this one.

Maxwell came closer to confess. “I thought there might have been a day where the two of us would… fight side by side. Father and son.” He tried to stay proud by nudging the air with his fist. Jake’s eyes began to well up. He couldn’t fight the tears. Maxwell ran to him and embraced him. “Son,” Maxwell whispered and placed his cheek on top of Jake’s head.

“I’m not super, Pops,” Jake cried. “I can’t do anything special.”

Maxwell took a knee and sighed deeply, looking eye to eye with his son. He took his thumb and wiped away the tears on Jake’s left cheek and then his right. “Look at me, Jake,” Maxwell said. “You don’t need to be a superhero to be special.”

“But you wanted me to be a superhero.”

“I thought so. But most importantly, I want you to be you, son.” Maxwell lifted Jake’s chin. “And you’re the most special person in the world to me. Because you’re you. Because you’re my son.”

Jake couldn’t help but smile. He leaned forward and gave his father a hug. “I love you, Pops.”

“I love you, too, son.” Maxwell hugged him tightly. “No matter what you do or what you become, you will always be super, as long as you be Jake.” They pulled apart. Maxwell kissed Jake’s forehead. He picked up Jake and flew back up the chute.