The Kryptonite Kid: A Novel

by Joseph Torchia

  Sincerly Yours Truly,

  MR. JERRY CHARIOT

  PS: I almost forgot to tell you that my friend Robert Sipanno is gonna be coming to Metropolis with me and you might want to meet him because he prints pretty good also. And so maybe he could print about SUPERMAN’S PAL JIMMY OLSEN if you want.

  Dear Robert,

  On Sunday morning I’ll say I forgot something when we’re getting in the car to go watch everybody else get their First Holy Communion. Because my mom said I have to go anyway because that’s part of my punishment. And so I’ll run upstairs and I’ll go right in the attic and I’ll get my cape and put it on and climb out on the roof. And my dad’ll be in the car saying WHERE IN THE HELL IS THAT BOY? And he’ll probly be thinking about hitting me. And so I'll go right to the edge where EVERYBODY can see me and I’ll look down and yell HERE I AM! Except Buster will be in the back seat so I’ll have to wait until he climbs out.

  And looks up.

  And sees me standing on the roof with my arms out in front of me and my cape flapping behind me.

  And maybe Veronica nextdoor will be coming out of her house and so she’ll get to see me also. And then if you and your family was coming down the street at the same time then you’d get to see it too, Robert. EVERYBODY could see me jump, leap, soar through the air like on TV. And I’ll fly right down towards my mom and she’ll say LOOK!

  And my dad’ll say UP IN THE SKY!

  And Buster’ll say IT’S A BIRD!

  And Veronica will yell IT’S A PLANE!

  And then it would be your turn, Robert. And so you could say NO, IT’S THE KRYPTONITE KID!

  Isn’t that good?

  Your BESTfriend,

  JERRY

  I had another dream last night. It was the worst one yet. I dreamed I wasn’t big anymore. I dreamed I was little and I was still a kid and I was standing on the roof and I was alone. Nobody was there except me and my cape and I didn’t know who I was. And I didn’t know when I was. And I was crying because I couldn’t find Robert. "ROBERT!” I cried. "ROBERT, WHERE ARE YOU?” Nobody answered. Not at first. Then I heard a voice, a small voice coming from below. I looked down.

  I saw Robert.

  He was lying on the ground, clutching a crucifix, looking up at me with fear, with a helmet—looking up at me as if I were the last thing he would ever see. And crying.

  And each tear was a different color.

  And then I jumped. I leaped straight toward him. I fell through the air like a grenade.

  I woke up.

  DEAR ROBERT,

  What I thought I’d do is fly down and pick you up and give you a ride to Holy Redeemer Church. Right in front of your mom and my mom and EVERYBODY. Then I’ll go fly around for a while and I’ll wait until all the people get inside. Especially Sister Mary Justin. Then I’ll fly in and land right on the altar, right below the statue of The Virgin Mary, and I’ll let the HOLE church look at me for a while. And I won’t even care when they start whispering and talking and pointing as I fly up in the air like the Holy Ghost and pee on Sister Mary Justin. And then I’ll pee on Jimmy Sinceri and Janie Jobb and Duane Machado and Sister Scholastica and Pastor Ponti. Then I’ll fly around again, flying closer, right over Sister Mary Justin’s veil, like a helicopter, and I’ll poop on her.

  Right on her head!

  Because it won’t matter anymore, Robert. Nothing will matter anymore because we won’t need anybody. Not even our moms or our dads or The Baby Jesus or ANYBODY! Because we’ll have each other, Robert. We’ll love each other. We’ll fly everywhere and do everything. Like Batman and Robin. Like Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. Like Superman and Jimmy Olsen. We’ll be a team. Pals!

  At last, Robert—just you and me! JERRY and ROBERT! Nobody else!

  Except Superman.

  Love, Love, LOVE,

  JERRY

  Dear Superman,

  How are you? My name is Robert Sipanno and I am fine thank you. But Jerry isn’t. He’s right here beside me. We’re both writing you this letter. Only I’m doing the writing because he can’t. He isn’t allowed to move his arms because the doctor won’t let him. And neither will the nurse. She keeps coming around and checking on him and giving him pills and that’s why I’m writing it. Only Jerry keeps telling me everything I’m supposed to write down and I write it write away. So this letter is really from me and not Robert. Isn’t that right, Robert? Maybe we better start all over again.

  DEAR SUPERMAN,

  My name is Robert Sipanno and I’m the one who’s writing I mean printing this letter. But I’m not the one who’s REALLY writing it because this is the way we do it. Jerry says something and then I write it down. And then he says something else and I write it down. That’s the way we do it. So that means that Jerry is really doing the writing and I’m just doing the printing. Only I don’t print too good so I hope you can read it OK. Because I’m sitting in a chair and Jerry is laying down in bed. He can’t sit up. He can’t even have a pillow. In fact he has to lay there looking at the ceiling and he can’t even get up to pee.

  Maybe we shouldn’t tell him that, Robert. In fact he has to lay there looking at the ceiling and he can’t even get up to go look out the window. That’s better. Superman will figure it out.

  And that’s why Jerry can’t do the printing because he hurt his arms. And also his legs and everything else. Except his face. That’s the only thing that’s not all wrapped up. So he has to stay here with the nurses and the nunns all the time. And they wouldn’t let me in at first because they said I was too little. But then they changed their minds. That’s why Jerry hasn’t written you a letter in a LONG time, Superman. Because I wasn’t here to do it for him. But now I am. And this is it.

  So we hope you like it.

  Goodby.

  Your friends, Jerry and Robert.

  How did that sound, Robert? Did you get it all down? I hope I didn’t talk too fast. Maybe you better hold it up so I can see it. Robert? Are you still there, Robert? Hey, ROBERT! Will you please stop writing and

  Dear SUPERMAN,

  Why don’t you change that to Man of Steel?

  Dear MAN OF STEEL,

  I’ve been here quite a while now. In fact it’s almost a month. Or maybe even more. At first the only person who was allowed to come in was grown ups like my mom and dad. Except my dad never comes but I don’t care anyway. All I cared about was Robert but they said he couldn’t. And I said Why? And they said Because he’s too little and little kids aren’t allowed in here unless they get sick or jump off a building. Which I wouldn’t advise.

  So one day one of the nunns came over to my bed and said her name was Sister Madonna. That’s what she said. And I didn’t say anything back to her right away because she was a nunn and you know about them. But it turned out she was a real nice nunn which is probably why she got to wear a white outfit. Sister Mary Justin always wears a black one. So Sister Madonna told me how there was this cute little kid outside and he wanted to come in but he couldn’t So would you please give this present to my friend Jerry please? Then she smiled just like The Virgin Mary when she looks at The Baby Jesus in our Catechism. Then she gave it to me. Only I couldn’t open it because my hands are all wrapped up like the present. So Sister Madonna said she would do it and she did it. And you’ll NEVER guess what it was, Superman? It was SUPERMAN’S PAL JIMMY OLSEN NO. 77! I couldn’t believe it!

  "Gosh!” I said, and I almost jumped up. But I couldn’t. There’s this big thing all over my chest.

  "Oh, be careful!” she said urgently, as if the pain that suddenly shot through me was hers, not mine.

  I looked up at her.

  “Will you read it to me?” I asked. “Please? Oh, please? You GOT to. I can’t read it myself. Oh PLEASE?”

  She smiled, then folded her hands like she was going to pray. Then she said, “Surely.”

  Robert would have just said, “Sure.”

  First she read me a whole page and then she held up the comicbook so I could see all the
pictures. And then she read me another page and that’s the way we did it. I thought it was pretty good, especially the story about TITANO who was a giant gorilla who had Kryptonite eyes. And so if he looked at Superman then he might kill you. And that’s why you couldn’t stop him and so Jimmy Olsen had to do it. Because Titano kept stepping on people and climbing up the side of The Daily Planet so Jimmy decided to drink some of that Magic Stuff that made him grow REAL big. Real quick. And on page six he was even bigger than Titano or The Daily Planet or ANYTHING. And that’s how he got rid of that awful ape. And then it said THE AND. I mean END. And then Sister Madonna said, “Did you like it?”

  And I said, “Sure, didn’t you?”

  And she said, “Well if you did, then I did.”

  And I said, “What if I didn’t?”

  And she said, “Then I would feel bad because I want you to be happy.” And she smiled her smile.

  And I said, “Who do you think you’re kidding?”

  And she said, “Myself.”

  Then she made the Sign of the Cross and left.

  And I thought: Gee, I wished I would’ve had some of that Magic Stuff when I jumped. Then I could’ve been real BIG and I wouldn’t have fallen so far. Then I would’ve showed them!

  But I didn’t, Superman. I fell, Superman.

  I fell asleep and I was standing on top of my dad’s apartment building and everybody was watching me and I had my green cape on and I felt so good. And I felt so beautiful. And I was looking down at everybody. And I was just bending down, just getting ready to leap in the air, when allofasudden my mom yelled, “LOOK!”

  And my dad yelled, “UP IN THE SKY!”

  And Buster yelled, “IT’S A BIRD!”

  And Veronica yelled, “IT’S A PLANE!”

  And Robert yelled, “NO—IT’S SUPERMAN!”

  And sure enough, it was.

  You came zooming out of the sky like a star, shooting straight toward me. I could hardly believe it! It was REALLY you, Superman! I HAD to wave at you! I couldn’t help it. I had to yell, “HI, SUPERMAN! I’M OVER HERE! COME AND GET ME, SUPERMAN!” And you did. You flew down and picked me up and held me in your arms and we started flying away. And I waved goodbye to EVERYBODY—to my mom, and my dad, and Veronica. And I spit on Buster and it landed right in his hair. And I waved goodbye to Robert. And I yelled, “DON’T WORRY, ROBERT! WE’LL BE BACK TO GET YOU!” And then allofasudden my eyes turned into Kryptonite just like that giant ape’s and they started hurting you, Superman. And you started falling to the ground. And I started falling with you. And Buster started laughing. And we kept falling, falling together, crashing to the earth. Together! And I tried to look away so I wouldn’t hurt you, Superman. So I wouldn’t kill you. But I COULDN’T take my Kryptonite eyes off you! You were so beautiful. So perfect. And you were MINE—at last! I couldn’t look away!

  I woke up screaming. Sister Madonna was standing beside my bed, praying. Her hands were folded. Her head was tilted to one side. She reached out and touched me gently, on the forehead, with her smile. She said, “Poor child, what is it? What’s troubling you?” She dried my tears with her handkerchief because I couldn’t do it myself, I couldn’t move my arms, or my feet. I couldn’t turn my head. I could only look up, at the ceiling, which was dark. “Can I get you anything?” she asked. “Do you want anything?” I tried to move my lips, to explain, to tell her there’s only one thing:

  “I want to fly.”

  I didn’t say it. Instead I said:

  “Can you do me a favor?”

  And she said, “What is it, my child?”

  And I told her how I was glad she was praying for me and everything but couldn’t she maybe check and see if Robert could get in to see me? And she said Who’s Robert? And I said He’s the one who’s writing this letter because I’m just doing the talking. He’s the one who brought me that comicbook. And she said she would talk to the doctor and see what she could do God willing.

  “Now get some rest,” she said, kissing my eyes.

  But how could I sleep, Superman? There were so many things going on inside me. There were so many things I HAD to tell you because a lot of things have changed, Superman. You see, I’ve learned something— I’ve learned something VERY important. I’ve been laying here for weeks now, just looking at the ceiling and counting the cracks and waiting for something to happen. Like maybe they’ll let Robert in. I sure hope so. I can’t STAND it anymore, Superman. They got me tied up like a mummy. I can’t turn my neck. I can’t turn anything. I feel like I’m frozen.

  Sister Madonna whispered to somebody that I broke my neck poor child. But I don’t believe it. I don’t believe ANYTHING anymore, Superman. Not even you.

  Every time my mom comes in she has to stick her neck way over so I can see her face. The bandages go all around my face and it’s like looking out of a window all the time. Except the window’s in the roof because I have to look up all the time. And every time my mom cries my face gets all wet and sometimes tears fall from her eyes into my eyes.

  And she cries a lot, Superman. Almost every time she comes.

  Which is everyday.

  She always brings me a present. And usually it’s a pretty nice one like a sailboat. Which I can’t play with anyway because I’m not allowed to take a bath. Because I can’t. And she always wears a black dress which she NEVER did before. She sits beside me on the bed, gently, as if I might crack. She bends over me and smiles and asks me how I am and I never answer. I never say a word to her, not since I’ve been here. She keeps talking the whole time, telling me about Buster and the new hot water heater and everything. And usually I listen but I never talk. Not to her. Not to her or Buster or my sister the Sister or anybody. They even let my sister get away from the convent so she could come and try to talk to me. Which she did. “Why won’t you talk to us?” she asked. “Why won’t you talk to mom? It’s killing her.” But I didn’t say anything, Superman. I just looked up at the ceiling and I didn’t even smile. When she was leaving she said she would pray for me.

  I decided something, Superman. I decided there’s a LOT of people I don’t want to talk to anymore. So I’m not. I’m just going to lay here and look at the ceiling and wait. I’ll wait here in darkness for the morning. I’ll wait here in mourning for the evening. I’ll watch the electric lights go on, then off. Then the nurse will say, “It’s time for your midnight pill. Wake up.” And I’ll say to myself:

  I am awake.

  The doctor is standing at the foot of my bed. I can’t see him, but I can feel him. I can hear him talking. His voice sounds distant, like a bad phone connection. I can’t hear too well with these bandages over my ears. Sister Madonna is to my left. She’s talking louder, as if she’s interpreting what the doctor says. She’s looking down on me. I can see the top of her head. I think it’s morning and I think I’m awake. Sometimes I’m not too sure. The ceiling is bright. A ray of sunlight is shooting through the window beside me, like a searchlight. I can feel the warmth on my shoulder.

  Sister Madonna is talking but the doctor is speaking.

  He says he is moving me to another room where it will be OK if Robert comes in to see me. And he says he is going to send in another doctor who wants to look at me. Only he doesn’t want to give me shots or anything. He just wants to talk to me sometimes. And I never heard of a doctor who didn’t give any shots but I said OK because I didn’t have much choice. I REALLY wanted to see Robert so he could write this letter. And also just because I wanted to see him. So that meant I had to see the other doctor who didn’t know how to give shots. Whose name was Dr. Clark.

  “Nice name,” I said.

  He looked puzzled.

  “I just like the name Clark,” I said.

  “Well, gee, thanks Jerry.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He tried to be real friendly and talked as if he was a kid just like I was. Which was pretty dumb, I thought. He smiled a lot but it never stayed there very long because he kept asking an
other question. I didn’t like him too much.

  He asked me why I wouldn’t talk to my mom?

  “I don’t want to.”

  He said What’s wrong, don’t you like your mom?

  “She’s OK.”

  He said Well what about your dad?

  “I hate him.”

  He said Do you ever dream about him?

  “No, but ...”

  “But what?”

  “But I dreamed about my mom the other day.”

  “What was it?”

  “It’s pretty hard to explain.”

  "Try.”