“So you’re the sissy who thinks he’s a superhero!” he roared, and the crowd around us fell silent.
As I cowered behind Alex, I saw two other rough-looking men close ranks behind the giant, and I groped for my cellphone, wanting to be ready to call 911 if mayhem began.
To his credit, Alex didn’t flinch. “I’m the one wearing the Superman suit,” he said evenly, “but I’m far from being a superhero.”
The big man squinted at him. “If you’re not a superhero, what the fuck are you wearing a Superman suit for?” he demanded belligerently.
“Do you really want to know?” Alex asked with a solemn look on his face, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind. Was he deliberately trying to provoke the big man? I was terrified.
“I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t want to know, smartass!” the big man roared.
Alex leaned toward him and said quietly. “My wife cheated on me with another man. She ran off, broke my heart and humiliated me. I’m wearing the suit to protect me because I don’t ever want to be hurt like that again.”
The big man stared at Alex for a long minute, and then did the last thing I would ever have guessed: he threw his arms around Alex and hugged him! “Shit, man, I know how you feel. My wife did the same thing to me.” Then he released Alex, patted him on the shoulder and said, “You take care of yourself, you hear?” With that he stepped aside, opening our path to the door. Behind us, someone yelled out, “Good night, Superman!” and as others took up the cry, we left the building.
Out on the sidewalk I began to shake. “Oh my God, Alex, I thought he was going to kill you!” I said in a trembling voice.
Alex looked at me solemnly. “I thought so too,” he said. Then his smile returned and he said, “Let’s go grab a bite to eat.”
I let him lead me to an all-night diner, and after we’d ordered, I began to babble. “What made you say that to that guy?” I wanted to know. “How did you know he’d react like that?”
Alex shook his head. “I had no idea what he was going to do. I just decided that Superman wouldn’t have tried to talk his way out of the situation, he’d tell the truth and see what happened.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but Superman couldn’t be hurt. That guy could have taken your head off.”
Alex smiled sadly. “You’re probably right, but I’ve been hurt already, so I figured, ‘what difference would one more time make?'”
I took a bite of my sandwich to give me time to think. I was beginning to realize just how badly this man had been wounded, and just how much he relied on the nominal protection of his costume.
I decided to change the topic. “I was impressed by the way you were able to talk to all those people so easily. You should run for political office.”
“No,” he said immediately, “I wouldn’t have any interest in that. I’m just learning to enjoy being with people.”
I shook my head. “How many of those people in the bar did you know?” I asked curiously.
He smiled. “None of them. The only guy I recognized was the bartender.”
That was hard for me to believe. “How did you learn to make conversation so easily with strangers?”