“Oh, yeah,” Jacob chimed in, “she was taking a night course, alright.” Then he saw Marie’s angry look and he quickly took a step back out of range of her foot.
“Don’t either of you ever think before you speak?” she asked in exasperation. She turned back to face me. “Alex, that wasn’t the only time. The two of them haven’t exactly been discrete.”
Now I was angry as well as humiliated. “You knew and you didn’t tell me? What kind of friends are you, anyway?”
Marie took my hand. “Come on, Alex, it’s not that easy. We didn’t know what was really going on and none of us wanted to spread rumors. Besides, they were so blatant about it, we thought maybe you knew and . . .”
“You thought I knew and it was okay with me?” I asked in amazement. “I can’t believe this!” I started to head for the door, but Jacob grabbed my arm.
“Look, man, the truth is that if one of us had told you, you’d have denied it and started hating us instead. You know it’s true: everybody shoots the messenger.”
In my heart I knew he was right, but that didn’t make me feel any better. It was bad enough being demeaned in front of Glenda’s workmates; to be cuckolded in front of my friends felt like more than I could take. It was coup de grace, the ultimate wound.
Alex looked up at me, embarrassed but defiant. “Anyway, that’s when I decided to start wearing the Superman suit.”
I’d been so engrossed in his story that I had to shake myself to snap out of my reverie. I’d been dumped before and it had hurt a lot, but Alex’s experience must have been a lot more painful and humiliating.
I snapped back into reporter mode. “But I still don’t understand, Alex. How did you make the leap from abandoned husband to wearing a Superman costume?”
He resumed his story.
I wasn’t sure if I could bear to go back to work, but I forced myself to go to the gym the next morning because physical exertion seemed to be the only way I could take my mind off everything else. That morning, it didn’t work: all I could think about was wanting to hide, to become invisible, or to turn into someone else. Finally I gave up in defeat and left.
On my way to the office I passed a bookstore. In the window was a display of books and posters about superheroes. I’d loved comic books and cartoons as a kid and had seen almost all of the comic book hero movies. Like every kid, I’d wished I could be a superhero. Now, in my despairing state of mind, those memories came back to me in full force.
Then I remembered the previous Halloween when I’d gone to a costume party dressed as Batman. It was just a cheap mask and suit, but I’d felt good when I’d put it on and I’d enjoyed the party immensely. But now the superhero I envied was Superman because he couldn’t be harmed. After all the pain and humiliations I’d suffered, the idea of being invulnerable seemed supremely desirable.
I guess a whole lot of things came together in me all at once. My life was miserable and I wanted to be somebody different. I felt weak and helpless, and wanted to be somebody strong. More than anything, I felt vulnerable and I didn’t want to be hurt any more.
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