Davin was speechless. He was stunned. He stared at me. “You? You did? Seriously? H-how…?” He made sounds as though he wanted to ask more questions, but couldn’t quite form them.
I drew a breath and resigned myself to telling him the story, even though I anticipated his teasing. “I just…I didn’t think Shadowman was the right name for him,” I explained.
“No,” Davin agreed slowly. “Okay. But…how did you come up with Dark Lightning?”
“Um…he just…he’s so fast, that when he runs away, it’s like a dark blur. Because he’s wearing black. And it just reminded me of that old saying about the ‘tall dark streak of light.’”
“That’s an old saying?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Is it Brazilian?”
“No.” I shook my head. “You never heard that?” He shook his head. “Oh. Well, maybe I watched too many old movies growing up. I know I heard it somewhere. Hm. Anyway, the lightning part of it….” I sighed. “For some reason I thought it would be clever to say that ‘Wherever the storms are, Dark Lightning goes.’ I don’t remember why now, but it made sense at the time. It was the middle of the night. I don’t know—I wrote it all down.”
“But I still don’t understand how that became his name,” Davin objected.
“Well, neither do I, to be honest,” I admitted. “I sent an email with my suggestion to the papers, just, you know, throwing my two cents out there with everyone else’s. I never really imagined anyone would print it, let alone agree with it, but I guess The Powers That Be liked it. All I know is that both the Post-Gazette and the Trib ran my letter in the editorials the next day, and suddenly everyone was calling him that.”
He shook his head in amazement. “That’s just….”
“Crazy. I know. I’m actually worried about it, because what if he doesn’t like it? What if it’s not fierce enough? What if it’s too long? What if people think it means he’s bad, like you said? Or that he has some power over lightning?” I bit my lip. “I hope he doesn’t hate it.”
Davin stared at the table top and shrugged. “I’m sure he doesn’t mind; it’s not like he offered a name, and at least now they have something to call him. I mean, ‘Shadowman’ was pretty lame. And it’s nice that his new name was thought up by a fan, someone who obviously believes in him.”
“Why wouldn’t I believe in him?” I asked; it came out a little sharper than I’d meant for it to.
He shrugged again, finally giving me a thoughtful look. “Well, what makes you think he’s trustworthy?” Davin challenged.
“Now you sound like Greg!” I stared at him. “Why would he go around saving people if he was a villain?” I demanded.
He shrugged. “I’m just saying, it’s kind of weird. I mean, no one knows anything about him, no one can get a decent shot of him…how do we really know what he’s up to?”
“That’s really cynical,” I snapped. I was getting irritated, and I didn’t know why. Why did I feel like I had to defend Dark Lightning? And why did I care what Davin thought of him?
“Who’s Greg, anyway?” he asked.
I waved my hand dismissively. “Just an annoying guy in the Comic Book Club.”
Davin started to laugh, but instead cleared his throat at my fierce expression. “You’re...in a comic book club?”
“What part of ‘I love superheroes’ don’t you understand?” I asked, but I was laughing, too. “Maybe that’s weird, but I don’t see why it’s so unreasonable that I like Dark Lightning. I think it’s great what he’s doing. I’m glad to see someone helping people out. Too many people today are just plain selfish,” I explained. “And we’re all so wrapped up in ourselves that we get suspicious whenever someone decent comes along. It’s no wonder he hasn’t made himself more well-known, with all the mistrust the media’s dishing out.”
He folded his arms across his chest impassively. “Well, I told you before, I’m just not going to assume this guy is good. I’ll have to see for myself before I decide.”
I rolled my eyes. “I wonder how many people said that about Spider-Man,” I couldn’t resist adding.
He sipped his drink and stretched. “Spider-Man’s not real,” he replied.
The flat, unemotional way he said it made me mad. “Thanks for lunch,” I said stiffly. I pushed away my plate, finished.
“You’re welcome,” he said. I was annoyed to see yet again a hint of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. He chewed a few more minutes quietly then took another sip of soda. “You know, you’re kind of deep,” he said.
I stopped and looked at him. I’d been reaching for another breadstick but instead I withdrew my hand and gave him my attention. “You think so?”
“Well, yeah. I don’t know, maybe I’ve just been around too many shallow girls lately or something. All— well, almost all—the girls I knew in high school seemed to be interested only in externals—how they looked, who they dated, what parties they were seen at—that kind of thing.”
I didn’t say anything, but quietly reflected on my own high school experience—which, since we moved to the states before my sophomore year, had been similar.
He leaned forward slightly, as though to catch my eye. “I meant it as a compliment,” he said gently.
I looked back up at him. “I know.” I hesitated. “It’s just, it’s been a while for me to even have someone I could really talk like this to, or you know, really be myself around.”
He smiled. “I’m flattered.”
I grinned back. “You should be. Not everyone gets to know the Real Anna Crístina Fisher.”
That look came into his eyes again—not exactly probing this time, just keen, as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t, or thought I understood something I maybe shouldn’t. “Not everyone gets to know the Real Davin Adam Kowalski, either.”
“So…do I have the honor?”
He cocked his head, the keen look still vivid on his face. “Partly. Not completely. I’d like to say it’ll come in time, but that’s not something I can promise.”
I thought about that. So there was something he was hiding.
“But,” he added, looking away, “if I was going to let anyone see the real me, I’d say you stand the best chance.”
Really? I found that interesting. I sipped my water and smiled, but didn’t say a word.
We spent the rest of the afternoon navigating through the city; Davin seemed to know it fairly well. We went to the Point, as promised; however, because it was winter, the fountain was turned off. Davin assured me it was much better when the fountain was on, but I still thought the view of the water and the city rising above was beautiful. Afterward, we drove past a few other landmarks, like Ft. Duquesne, and PPG plaza, all mirrored and shiny.
“I have an idea,” Davin said suddenly. “We could go to the South Side Works and catch a movie. Theaters are always open on Christmas.”
“Okay,” I shrugged. “What’s playing?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure we can find something.” We agreed on a fluff comedy flick and settled in our seats with popcorn, candy, and soda. The food cost more than our tickets had, but Davin didn’t complain. He really seemed to be enjoying himself—and I was, too. The movie was mediocre but mildly entertaining—it was a break at least, from school. We laughed, and I enjoyed the drama of possibly reaching my hand into the bag of popcorn at the same time as him.
Then, about halfway through—maybe less— It happened again. “Um, I’ll be back,” Davin whispered in my ear. He stood and slipped out of the theater. I didn’t think much of it at first—I mean, sometimes you just gotta go— but he never came back. After twenty minutes or so, I started to get really worried. What if Spaghetti Warehouse hadn’t agreed with him, and he was sick? I didn’t know if I should stay through the movie, or check on him. I didn’t care about the movie; I cared about him. But I also didn’t want to intrude...it was all so awkward. I had no idea what was going on or what I should do, so I just sat the
re.
Finally, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I left the theater, too, even though the film was still playing. I walked into the lobby anxiously—and there he was, sitting calmly on a bench. He stood when he saw me. “Is it over already?” he asked, and smiled. “Did they save the day?”
I looked at him blankly. “What happened to you?” I demanded.
“Oh, I just...” he shifted. “I had to go, you know, and then...I just...felt like stretching my legs around the building.”
“I was worried about you,” I said.
“Oh. Well, you didn’t need to be.”
“I see that now,” I replied sharply. “I just don’t get it. I mean, it was your idea to go see a movie. We didn’t have to.”
“I know.” He frowned. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to upset you, Anna. I guess...I guess I just wasn’t as in the mood for a movie as I thought.”
“Whatever,” I sighed. “You ready to go back now?”
“Yeah. Yeah. You?”
“I am,” I replied emphatically, and so we headed back to Dubsy. It was a weird way to end what had otherwise been a really cool day, and it bugged me to leave it on such a sour note. To top it off, I saw a news report later that night about how Dark Lightning had also been in town, foiling a bank robbery. In the South Side, no less. I couldn’t believe we’d been right there, and missed him. Sometimes Davin drove me nuts.
Chapter Eight
“The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand, nor the kindly smile,
nor the joy of companionship;
it is the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when he discovers that someone else believes in him and is willing to trust him.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Here’s to the new year,” Davin said, handing me a plastic cup filled with diet soda—except he called it diet pop. He clinked his own plastic cup against mine.
I said nothing, forced a smile, and drank. Davin fell silent, stealing wary glances at me as I perpetuated the silence. He’d invited me to a New Year’s Party, and I’d come, grudgingly. We’d had fun on our day in Pittsburgh…but I had been frustrated by it, too—with his remarks about Dark Lightning, the way he’d run off and left me without explanation—not to mention the ambiguity of the day. Would that be considered a date? Or was it just two people hanging out—like we were that night? I knew I was being insecure, but I just couldn’t seem to stop myself. I was irritated with him, but I would not talk about it. Nope, I preferred to seethe inwardly, and to make him suffer a little. It was a retributive kind of torture, I suppose, measured to retaliate against perceived wrongs.
The trouble was, I knew it wasn’t entirely his fault— how can you blame someone for doing something unintentionally hurtful?—and I was starting to feel bad for making him feel bad. He was becoming my friend, and he’d been trying hard during the break. He didn’t know, unless it was as blatantly obvious as it sometimes felt, that I was developing some feelings for him. And though it was maddening that I didn’t know if he considered the day before a “date” or not, he couldn’t know that I wanted it defined. As for the way he’d talked about Dark Lightning—well, perhaps that was the ginger male ego and jealously talking.
I bit my lip. I didn’t know why I felt I had to defend that mysterious hero anyway. So what if I’d been interested in heroes from the time I was three years old? Was that any reason to blindly assume that Dark Lightning was everything I’d dreamed a superhero should be? I couldn’t help but hope that he was, and at that moment it occurred to me that I might have had the beginnings of a hero-crush on him.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight.” Davin tried an ill-timed and ill-aimed attempt at humor to draw me out. “Still day-dreaming about Spider-Man?” he teased.
I glared at him. “You really don’t get it, do you?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“You make it sound like it’s a fetish or a weird celebrity crush, and it’s not. Yeah, I might be a little in love with Spider-Man, but it’s not because he wears spandex that shows off his muscles or because he could swing me to safety with his acrobatics and webbing. I already told you there’s more to it than that.” I could feel myself building into a rant. “People always act like I can’t like superheroes and be a rational person. Like, comic books are so fantastic and unrealistic that anyone who likes them has lost touch with reality. Pure wish fulfillment. Well, I don’t see it that way. There’s so much more to why I love superheroes.”
He looked surprised by my outburst, but curious. “So, why do you love them so much?”
“Well,” I groped for a clear explanation. I’d been teased, patronized and ostracized for my love of superheroes. Yet no one had ever once asked me to explain my obsession. “I guess…they’re an example. The good ones— they’re relatable. They show us who we are, and…who we could be. They remind us that sometimes doing the right thing means putting others before ourselves. In fact, almost all of the time. And they teach us that it’s not an easy path, but that it’s worth it.”
“And you believe all that?”
I nodded. “It’s easier to believe, somehow, when you’re reading someone else’s story.”
He sighed. “You can say that again.”
“I don’t know,” I went on, still musing. “I think heroes call to that part of us that wants to make a difference but is afraid. But I also think they appeal to the side of us that wants to be rescued.”
“Wait.” Davin frowned thoughtfully. “I thought girls today didn’t want rescuing. No, wait—that’s not right. They don’t need recuing, that’s it. Right?”
I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly. “I’m not just talking about women being rescued by men, you know. I think we all want to play a little of both roles, to an extent. We want to know we have something to offer the world,” I sighed, “and we want to know that someone will come through for us when it counts. Even if we’re capable of making it on our own. I’m talking about something deeper than gender, something that makes us human.”
“Oh.” His expression lost its bemusement and his gaze became keen. “I was going to say. You don’t exactly come across as a damsel in distress.”
I let a short laugh escape. “I’m not saying I’m Wonder Woman. I do look up to heroines like Rogue, Batgirl, and Princess Leia. But no one is invulnerable.” I shook my head. “I mean, I may not have taken martial arts, but I can take care of myself for the most part. The problem is—all those heroines I admire, none of them did their best work alone. They had allies and friends to come alongside them. And that’s just it. No one wants to go through life alone, fighting battles single-handedly their whole life. Not even the hardiest of heroes. That’s just a miserable existence. Everyone needs someone in their corner, right?”
He nodded slowly. “I see what you’re getting at.”
“And at the end of the day, you simply can’t win every battle on your own. No one can. Fictional characters or real people. And that’s something else we can learn from comics. Even if you could,” I wrinkled my brow, “would you really want to? By all accounts, it gets lonely being your own hero.”
He drew a breath. “Yeah, well, life can get lonely even if you’re not a hero.”
I nodded. “Tell me about it.”
He forced a wry smile. “Well, you’ve certainly given me a lot to think about,” he said. “But you definitely are deep water, Dr. Fisher. Fathoms deep.”
“Thanks,” I said. Not everyone could make a statement like that sound like a compliment. I took another sip. “One question, though. Why are you so hard on him?”
“On who?” he looked genuinely confused.
I realized he had no way of knowing I’d been thinking of our hometown hero most of the night. “Dark Lightning.”
“Oh.” He frowned slightly, a strange unreadable expression in his eyes. “I don’t know. Why do you defend him so vehemently?”
“I don’t know,” I floundered. “I told you…I just believe in him.”
> “Why?”
I sighed, exasperated. “I don’t know,” I repeated. “I just…have a feeling about him.”
His eyes flickered; but instead of looking at me he gazed keenly at his shoes. “But how…how can you trust someone you don’t even know?”
“Well….” I swallowed, wondering if I should really say it. If I even really believed it. “I trust you.”
He looked up at me sharply.
“At least, I’m pretty sure I do,” I amended quickly.
His frown was deep, but it wasn’t angry. “How can you trust me,” he murmured, “when you don’t even believe everything I tell you?”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly, shaking my head. I really didn’t. “I guess trust is a kind of intuitive thing. And even though you’re not always honest with me, that doesn’t mean you would ever do anything to hurt me.”
He was silent for a moment. “Trust must come pretty easily to you, then.”
I shook my head again. “Not really,” I replied. Not since Emily.
He stared at me so hard that I really started to worry that he was reading my mind. “So why me? After everything I’ve already done to let you down?”
“Well,” I sighed, “I guess I just have a feeling about you, too, Davin.”
He just let that sink in a minute; and though he still looked troubled, it was less of an angry, disturbed kind as it was of the surprised and uncomfortable type.
We fell silent again.
“You know,” he said, “seeing as how this is going to be a new year n’at,” (“N’at” was apparently a common Pittsburgh phrase, literally meaning, “and that” or, “and so forth” and used to encompass pretty much everything) “…since it’s a fresh start, a new chance and all that, I was thinking. It’s time for a change, you know?” He drew a breath and licked his lips again. “So, if there’s something…I mean, I kinda noticed that you might have been a little upset tonight….”
Tall, Dark Streak of Lightning (The Dark Lightning Trilogy) Page 9
