\n\u201cNo. What happened to the dog?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe\u2019s sitting across from me at a table in an Italian restaurant no different from any other. The same checkered tablecloths. The same red-orange lights kept low so the blind dates can mask their imperfections. But Wolffington and I have known each other for years. And we don\u2019t wear masks anymore.\n<\/p>\n
\nA mouthful of wine, and a bite of garlic bread to soak it up. \u201cSome weird skin rash. Keeps chewing her tail. Probably just a food allergy.\u201d Wolffington pauses to breathe and swallow. \u201cDogs have those, same as people, right?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI nod. \u201cSure, probably.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI never thought this would be my life.\u201d Wolffington shakes her head. \u201cThat my biggest worry would be wondering what to feed my dog.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWe didn\u2019t expect to live this long,\u201d I explain.\n<\/p>\n
\nA final sip and the wineglass is empty. \u201cWe should have, Calino.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nNeither of us is even forty yet.\n<\/p>\n
\nInstinctively I look away, down at myself. The blue suit, slightly bluer shirt and tie. It hides quite a bit. More than Wolffington\u2019s sleeveless dress. When she raises her left arm to signal for more wine, the flame tattoos that surround it shine in the low lights.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat do you worry about?\u201d She asks me once the waiter has acknowledged her and hustled back with another bottle.\n<\/p>\n
\nI consider being honest. If so much time hadn\u2019t passed between us I would risk the truth. But right now I\u2019d rather make her laugh.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI worry that Blackguard Blythe is going to be up for parole soon.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nWolffington laughs so hard she snorts fresh wine. She swings her napkin up to keep the liquid from bleeding onto her dress. I admire her for a moment, the way I did back when we were teammates. Her unapologetic, graceless charm.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt\u2019s terrible that I remember him. He had that top hat, the cape and those bloody smoked glasses.\u201d Wolffington blows her nose on the cloth napkin and wine speckles it, probably permanently. \u201cAnd his female sidekick.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHenchwoman.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSure, what was her name?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cMiss Anne Thrope.\u201d Even I can\u2019t help but smile.\n<\/p>\n
\nWolffington pounds the table with delight. \u201cRight!\u201d Then the full memory returns and she lets the napkin drift back to her lap. Her face is solemn. \u201cWe killed her, didn\u2019t we?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nA question that needs no answer. Both of us remember crashing through the skylight of the roller disco. The Flaming Pudding and her sidekick Hot Plate rising up against the flashing lights and whistles. Miss Anne Thrope holding the skaters hostage, all tied together. My hands were tight claws aching to be released. Wolffington had her flask open.\n<\/p>\n
\nMiss Anne Thrope didn\u2019t back up. If she had decided like any normal henchwoman to scuttle off and let heroes and villains fight it out she would\u2019ve lived to be arrested. But she advanced with her whip and this bizarre, fearless grin.\n<\/p>\n
\nOur food arrives. Wolffington absently thanks the waiter. I eat quietly, munching pasta without tasting.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe whip had wound itself around Wolffington\u2019s left arm. Her tattoos glowed with genuine fire and the loops of the whip burned away like paper. Another drink from her flask brought fire right out of Wolffington\u2019s fingertips. It drenched Miss Anne Thrope, who screamed and staggered. There was plenty of heat in the room for me to do my job, so I unclenched my fists and my mind, allowed them to seek any nearby metal.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe screws on everybody\u2019s roller skates were perfect. I telepathically ripped out the hot metal and let my hands zigzag in Miss Anne Thrope\u2019s direction, drilling a hundred, near-liquid screws into her burning body.\n<\/p>\n
\nWe didn\u2019t stay. Even at that moment Wolffington and I realized what we\u2019d allowed ourselves to do. It was one thing to kill a supervillain in the heat of battle, so to speak; accidents happen among equals. Miss Anne Thrope wasn\u2019t our equal. She was far more ordinary than Wolffington or I could\u2019ve claimed to be. And we had murdered her.\n<\/p>\n
\nSo there was no untying the hostages. No accepting grateful hugs and handshakes. The two of us ran away to let the police find a smoldering corpse riddled with metal slugs. Pretty soon we ran away from each other.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cBlythe turned himself in after that,\u201d I remind Wolffington.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe sets down her fork. \u201cI know. Wasn\u2019t his master plan to have the roller skaters power a giant hamster wheel that\u2019d generate enough electricity to overload the city\u2019s transformers?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYeah.\u201d Neither of us bothers to smile this time.\n<\/p>\n
\nWolffington stares at her left arm. She holds it out across the table and we both stop eating to look at it.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat the hell made us think we should fight crime, Calino?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nI reach out, put my hand in hers. \u201cWe were young and had superpowers. Who doesn\u2019t want to be a hero?\u201d Wolffington tries to pull away but I hold on. \u201cPeople crave attention from others. Our bad luck we had gifts that got us the attention we wanted.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe two of us sigh. I let her hand go. \u201cDo you ever use your power?\u201d She asks softly.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI still can\u2019t control solid metal, it has to be softened with a heat source. In the middle of a burning building, maybe. But without you?\u201d I shrug.\n<\/p>\n
\nWolffington and I look up at one another. A bond deeper than love or sex, the bond we willingly broke could be rebuilt tonight at this restaurant. After years of brief, polite phone calls, when she finally breathed deep and asked to see me again, I wondered if it was to scratch an itch. If she desired to sweep the streets clean of crime with me once more.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI thought about going solo after we broke up,\u201d Wolffington admits. \u201cNever had the nerve to do it. I missed you, Calino, really. It\u2019s probably why I got the dog. Something loyal and dependent.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMaybe I should be offended, getting compared to a dog, but I\u2019m not. Working with Wolffington, I understood that she needed me as much as I needed her.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cKnow how I fight the urge to use my power?\u201d Wolffington suddenly snatches up her wineglass. \u201cI drink so much my body can\u2019t convert the alcohol into fuel fast enough. I get pissed almost every night, make it impossible to even think about channeling fire through my arm.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe angrily swallows the drink. I finish my food. Our waiter returns with a dessert menu but Wolffington waves him away.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cCalino, was tonight a mistake?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHer face is pinched. Tears lurk at the inner edges of her eyes. The pain that gnawed at me ever since I gave up the crime fighting life had already chewed Wolffington apart. It could never be shared, even with someone she loved. Not even with me who went through it all alongside her. The past is nothing but a burden when you don\u2019t believe you\u2019ll live long enough to regret it.\n<\/p>\n
\nBut since I\u2019ve already made Wolffington laugh once this evening, I tempt fate and try again.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cTonight\u2019s only a mistake if you don\u2019t tell me what kind of dog you got.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nWolffington doesn\u2019t laugh this time, but she does grin. And the tears are blinked back. She flicks her empty wineglass off the table, where it can do nothing but bounce soundlessly against the thick carpet.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI think it\u2019s a beagle mix. Here, I have pictures.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cNo. What happened to the dog?\u201d She\u2019s sitting across from me at a table in an Italian restaurant no different from any other. The same checkered tablecloths. The same red-orange lights kept low so the blind dates can mask their imperfections. But Wolffington and I have known each other for years. And we don\u2019t wear …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":106922,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,19981],"tags":[19982],"class_list":["post-137759","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-34-winter-2020","tag-the-colored-lens-34-winter-2020","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/137759","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/106922"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=137759"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/137759\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":137760,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/137759\/revisions\/137760"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=137759"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=137759"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=137759"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}