146 comments/ 160474 views/ 171 favorites An Interview with Superman By: FrancisMacomber He didn't look that weird when he walked into the room. Actually, he had a nice face with a pleasant smile, and it was clear that he worked out regularly. But there was no getting past the blue spandex suit, the red cape and, of course, the big S on his chest. For at least the tenth time I silently cursed my editor for assigning me to write a story about a nut. She'd called me into her office a couple of days ago. "Have you heard about the guy who's running around the city in a Superman suit?" she asked me. "Nope," I replied. "Sounds like a nut job to me." "Could well be," she admitted, "but the geniuses in the City section think there might be a story in it and they want us to get it. We've tracked him down and he's agreed to an interview. Guess who gets to do it," she said pointedly. "Why do I always get the weirdos?" I asked, lifting my eyes to the heavens, but I got the assignment anyway. Whoopee. All that flashed through my mind as I rose to meet him. I could only hope it wouldn't be too bad. "I'm Elle Finn," I said, rising to shake his hand. "Alex Stevenson," he said, returning my handshake. "Pleased to meet you." We sat down and I pulled out my recorder. "I'll be recording today's interview," I said. "Is that okay?" "Sure," he said easily, "no problem." I double-checked the microphone to be sure it was on. "Okay, this is Elle Finn, reporter for The New York Times, interviewing Alex Stevenson, a.k.a. Superman. Mr. Stevenson, let's cut to the chase here: do you really believe you're the Man of Steel?" "I wish you'd call me Alex," he replied. "It would make this a lot friendlier." He gave me that easy smile, and I nodded my agreement. "Anyway, in answer to your question, no, I'm the farthest thing from a superhero." "So why do you wear the suit?" I prodded. His face took on a serious aspect. "I guess because I didn't want to be vulnerable any more." I tried not to react, but that wasn't what I was expecting. "It sounds like someone must have hurt you pretty badly," I said carefully. "Want to tell me about it?" He gave a little sigh. "Okay," he said, and began to tell his story. An Interview with Superman I'd never heard Glenda complain about any of the things she'd accused me of in her office today. Of course I was ambitious, but I was also intelligent enough to know opportunities didn't come along that frequently in the publishing business. What was so bad about being patient? And that crack about my sexual performance: that was a low blow -- literally. She'd never complained even once. Besides, I felt certain that she'd had frequent orgasms when we'd had sex. But if she hadn't been satisfied, I would have been happy to do more or try something different if only she'd said something. Nevertheless, I had to admit that her insult shook me at a fundamental level. I looked down at myself and noticed the incipient roll of fat developing around my waistline. Shit! I had let myself get sloppy. I used to keep myself in pretty good shape when I was in college, but the thickness around my middle was something I couldn't deny. Beer and bar food, I thought guiltily. I made a vow to myself on the spot: join a gym, skip the booze. After Glenda's scathing evaluation of me today, I had no illusions about getting her back – or wanting to, for that matter – but I could damned sure show her that I could have changed if she had only given me the chance. I pulled out my smartphone and found a gym not too far from my office. It wasn't cheap, but I figured that what I could save on beer would help make it manageable. I was back at work the next morning carrying my gym bag, and for the next two weeks I went for a workout every day after work. My muscles ached, but not nearly as much as my ego and, I admit it, my heart. Even though Glenda had turned into some kind of harpy, I couldn't just instantly fall out of love with the woman who'd been my wife only a short while ago. The other junior editors had been after me to join them in their post-business-hours outings, but I'd been ducking them, making one excuse or another to beg off. I didn't want to tell them that I'd given up booze, I didn't want them to know I was now going to the gym every day, and most of all I didn't want to admit the reason why. But of course I was foolish to think I could maintain the façade for long. Sure enough, one afternoon I got a call from Candy at the front desk that I had a visitor. When I went out there, I saw a man whom I was sure I'd never met before. Nevertheless, he gave me a pleasant smile and asked, "Alex Stevenson?" "Yes?" I said curiously. He reached under his arm and handed me an envelope. "Mr. Stevenson, you have been served." With that he bowed to Candy, turned and walked away. Candy had already been through a few husbands so she knew exactly what had just happened. Even if she hadn't, the expression on my face would have been a dead giveaway. "Oh, Alex, I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't know you and Glenda were having problems." I nodded at her words and turned to walk back to my desk, not trusting my voice to say anything. Of course I'd been expecting something like this, but the finality of the divorce petition still had a real impact on me. The envelope was sitting unopened on my desk when the clock reached 5:00, and then my three best work friends were standing in front of me. "Come on, Alex," Marie said, grabbing my arm. "You're coming with us." I tried to protest, but the three of them wouldn't relent and I had no real will to resist. When we got to the bar, they all looked at each other when I ordered a club soda with lemon, but no one said anything. Finally, Jacob seized the bull by the horns. "Okay, Alex, Candy told us about what happened earlier today. Come on and spill it: what happened with you and Glenda?" And I did. I hadn't intended to air my dirty laundry in front of my friends, but it had been festering so long inside me that once I started it all came out, even the details of my humiliating encounter with Glenda in her office. "That bitch," Tommy exclaimed, "I bet she shacked up with Connor – ouch!" He turned to Marie with an accusatory glare. "What'd you kick me for?" But I ignored their little interplay and seized on what Tommy had been saying. "'Shacked up with Connor'? Are you talking about Connor James at her law firm? What does he have to do with Glenda?" I demanded. "Well, after we saw him sucking face with her, it was pretty obvious – oww! Dammit, Marie, that really hurts!" "Don't you know when to keep your mouth shut?" Marie hissed at Tommy, as he stood there rubbing his shin. Then she turned to me with an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry, Alex. The three of us went out to dinner back in March, and afterwards we stopped at a bar and saw them together. The way the two of them were behaving it was pretty obvious what was going on." I did some quick mental calculations. "No, that couldn't have been her. She was taking a night course back in March." "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. An Interview with Superman The moment we passed through the door, I heard the tone of the background noise change. People were pointing and talking, and I began to feel very self-conscious. But Alex plunged right into the crowd, taking me with him right up to the bar. The bartender spotted Alex and called out in a loud voice, "Superman is in the house." Immediately, the room was filled with cheers and applause, and the level of excitement seemed to increase. After checking with me, Alex ordered me a glass of white wine, and I was interested to see that he really did get a club soda for himself. Once our drinks arrived, he took my hand and dragged me toward a large cluster of people on one side of the room. As we made our way, people kept reaching out to shake his hand or give him a high five. I got more than my fair share of curious glances, and I began to realize that being with Alex meant being in the circle of a minor celebrity. Alex dove into conversations the way a kid would jump into a swimming pool on a hot day. Instantly, he seemed to be in the midst of a discussion with virtually everyone within earshot, and I marveled at the ease with which he participated. As I watched, several things struck me. First, although he had actively inserted himself into the conversation, he was careful not to dominate it. Instead, he kept asking others for their opinions, and when he appeared to disagree with them, he simply turned to someone else and asked them for their opinion. Second, he was unfailingly friendly, smiling at people and giving them positive feedback, making them feel good about themselves. Lastly, even though I was there only as a passive observer, he made it a point to keep me involved, and I couldn't help appreciating his sensitivity. The fact was that he was easy to be with. Another thing I soon learned was that Alex never stayed still for long. He continued to circulate through the crowd, talking to new people as they entered his sphere of conversation and then moving on in a very natural way. I was surprised to find myself enjoying the evening. I'd expected to be a fly on the wall, observing and making mental notes for my article. Instead, I found myself talking to people much more than normal and having a good time doing so. I also found myself going through several more glasses of white wine, which probably helped to further lubricate the conversation. At one point late in the evening, a rather attractive blonde woman pushed her way through the crowd towards us. She came up to Alex and, pointing at me, demanded in a strident voice, "Is she your date?" Alex turned to me with a smile on his face and asked, "I don't know, Elle, are you my date?" I blushed and quickly responded, "No, I'm just a friend." "Good," the blonde said, and then proceeded to brazenly fondle the front of Alex's trunks. "So why don't you and I go back to my place and find out if you really are the man of steel?" she asked suggestively. Alex blushed even redder than I had, and quickly brushed her hand away. "Sorry, but I'm all tied up tonight." Her face reflected her disappointment, but she wasn't ready to give up. "We could do that too, you know." When Alex shook his head again with a smile, she said, "It's your loss, superhero," and stalked away on her stilettos with a petulant look on her face. Alex leaned over to speak quietly into my ear. "It looks like the natives are starting to get a little restless," he said with a wry grin. "Maybe it's time for us to call it a night." I'd been frozen by the little interlude and surprised to realize that the aggressive woman's approach had made me jealous, so I was glad when Alex took my hand and began leading me to the door. Then the very thing I'd been dreading occurred. A huge man, obviously drunk, stepped out of the crowd directly into our path. He stared at Alex and sneered as though Alex had offended him. "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?" He shook his head. "It's funny, Elle. All my life I've been shy around people. Back in school I hung around with a crowd because I wasn't confident being on my own. In the group I could just react to what everyone else was saying." His face lost the trace of smile around the corners of his mouth. "It got a lot worse after Glenda left. I didn't want to see or be with anyone, I just wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it. But after I started wearing my Superman suit, it got a lot easier for me to go out by myself, meet new people and talk to them. I'd just think about how Superman would handle things and try to act the same way." The image of Alex as shy and hesitant just didn't fit with the extrovert I'd witnessed only minutes before, so I pressed him on the topic. "Maybe the suit helped you come out of your shell," I said, "but that doesn't explain how you learned to talk with people like that." "It's nothing special," he said. "I really like people -- it's just that I've never felt comfortable around them. Now I do, and I want to know what they think and how they feel. I'm having a good time, and I want them to have one too." I didn't respond, but all I could thinks was, "There's a lot more to this guy than I thought." At that moment a woman came into the diner, and that made me think again about the confrontation with the predatory blonde. I asked Alex about the incident. "Does that kind of thing happen often?" I wanted to know. He was clearly embarrassed. "Yeah," he admitted, "it's happened a few times." "Did you go home with any of them?" I demanded. He wouldn't look at me. "A couple of times, maybe." "Well, how was it?" I demanded before I could close my mouth. What was I thinking asking a question like that? But before I could backtrack, he was already answering. "The first time, I hadn't been with a woman since Glenda left, and I guess I was pretty, um . . . eager." He gave a little laugh. "Afterwards, she accused me of being faster than a speeding bullet." "But it got better after that," he went on guilelessly. "I just kept reminding myself about the kind of control that Superman would have had, and the ladies liked me better. But pretty soon I got to the point where hooking up didn't seem that attractive to me." He looked at me with pain in his eyes. "I guess I'm sort of old fashioned that way. All I really ever wanted was one woman, if she was the right one. I thought Glenda was, but I found out different." He suddenly glanced up at the clock over the counter. "Do you need to get home?" he asked considerately, and when I looked at the time I was shocked at how late it had gotten. He walked me out to the curb and flagged down a cab for me. I guess having a cape blowing in the wind comes in handy sometimes. As the cabbie gawked at him, Alex opened the door and helped me inside. "Thank you, Elle," he said. "I know this was just for your article, but I really enjoyed being with you tonight." Then he closed the door, and as the cab pulled away I looked back to see him standing there on the curb. The cabbie turned around to look at me. "Who was that guy?" he asked curiously. "I'm still not sure I know," I said. Terri was waiting up for me when I got home, and she wanted to know all about my evening. After I finished recounting the night's adventures, she asked what I thought about Alex. When I talked about how badly he'd been hurt, she looked at me closely. "He may have had a hard time over his ex-wife, but he's not a lost kitten, Elle. You don't need to give him shelter and a bowl of milk, you know." "I know," I said, but it was hard to stop thinking about him and all he'd been through. When I sat down to write my article about Alex, I found it extremely difficult to get started. On the one hand, recounting the experiences Alex had shared with me would be easy, and what I'd observed in the park and at the bar would definitely make for great copy. But I found myself struggling to capture what was really going on inside Alex. The one question every reader would want answered was why a seemingly normal guy would do such a seemingly irrational thing. I started over several times before coming up with a lede that I liked. "Superhero with a broken heart" seemed to capture the contradictions best for me, and once I'd gotten that down the rest seemed to flow easily. When I'd originally gotten the assignment, I was sure that it would all be a waste of time and my work would get killed. But after my wild day and night with Alex, and after spending another day struggling to describe what was really going on inside of him, I began to feel very protective of my article. I didn't want it to wind up on the spike, and I was really apprehensive when I finally turned it in to my editor. An hour later she called me. "Have you got any more?" she asked brusquely. "What do you mean?" I asked irritatedly. "It's already the right length." I'd carefully edited the article down to standard length for the City section. I consider myself a serious writer, and I've learned that if I don't edit my own work, somebody else will start hacking at it and ruin what I've done. "It's not the right length for the Sunday Magazine," she said, and I gasped. An article in the Sunday Magazine can run much longer. More importantly, the pieces that appear there tend to get a lot of attention, and, unlike daily articles, they stay up on the online Times for the whole week. I was in shock – admittedly, a pleasant shock, but still . . . I went back to my computer and started pulling up all the material I'd cut. With the luxury of all those beautiful extra column inches, I quickly started revising what I had, changing it from a news item to a feature article. I kept my lede but let the story flow much more organically now that I was freed from inverted pyramid style. By the end of the day I had it done and my editor was quite pleased. "This is really good, Elle," she told me, "and you've submitted it in time for this Sunday's edition." I felt like I'd hit a grand slam home run. That evening I did something I shouldn't have: I called Alex and told him to check the Sunday Times Magazine this weekend. "So it's not going to be in the daily news?" he said uncertainly. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" "Oh, it's definitely a good thing," I said. "You'll see." After I hung up, though, I began to have second thoughts. What I'd turned in to my editor was a positive, honest, human interest story, and I thought it captured Alex pretty well. But that didn't mean that the finished product would turn out that way. What if some editor higher up decided to turn the story into a humor piece poking fun at Alex or, worse, holding him up to ridicule? I'd seen things like that happen before and the result could be pretty cruel. If that happened, he'd think I'd written it that way. The more I thought about it, the more I wished I hadn't called him. Reporters are supposed to keep a distance from their subjects, to be dispassionate. If they don't, they lose their objectivity and then they aren't reporting any more. But, dammit, I found I couldn't help liking Alex, and if my article got turned into a slash-and-burn piece, I'd feel terrible. Plus, I admitted to myself, I'd likely never see the guy again. While that wasn't likely anyway, it would be nice to think it could be a possibility. I deliberately avoided taking an advance look at the magazine, but when my own copy of the Times hit my doorstep, I quickly pulled out the magazine section. There on the cover, staring back at me with smiling eyes and a steely expression on his face, was the picture of Alex standing on the boulder in Central Park. Below it was the headline: "The Brokenhearted Superhero from Queens." OMG, my story had made the cover! I quickly flipped to the story -- under my byline! -- and began reading. No, I was relieved to see, they hadn't turned my article into a parody. In fact, the more I read, the more I realized they had used it almost exactly as I had written it! Not only that, but they'd used it all, my whole damned submission! What a rush! I sat there in my pajamas and felt great. Getting a cover story was a terrific coup, something a reporter like me could only dream of. Then another thought surprised me: I found myself wishing that Alex would read it and tell me he liked it. "Where did that come from?" I wondered. After Terri read the article, she just shook her head. "You're doing it again, Elle. This guy is damaged -- I don't want to see you get hurt." I ignored her. I got lots of calls of congratulation on Monday, but I didn't hear from Alex. I knew that there was no particular reason why he should call, but I found myself becoming more and more apprehensive as the day went on. Perhaps he had had a different reaction to the article, I thought, or perhaps he had resented my efforts to give a balanced picture of him. Or maybe, I thought sadly, he just wasn't interested in talking to me again. I was deep in self-pity mode when my cellphone rang. It was Alex! "Hey, Elle," he said, "I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier, but things have been crazy around here. None of my friends at work can believe it's me. My Mom back in Illinois even called – I don't know how she found out about it. She's worried about me," he said with a laugh, "she thinks I've lost my mind." He continued to ramble on as I tried to get a word in edgewise. Finally he paused to catch a breath, and I seized the opening. "So," I said, "what did you think about the article?" "Oh, it was . . ." he said, and then he paused, and I heard him speak to someone else for a few seconds before he came back on the line. "Listen, that was my boss, so I'm going to have to go. But before I do, I wanted to ask if you could have lunch with me on Wednesday? We can talk some more about it then." "Um, sure, I guess," I said, trying not to sound eager. "Great!" he enthused, and gave me the name of a little place on 8th Avenue not too far from my office. "See you on Wednesday at noon," he said, and then he was gone. As I hung up the phone, I wished we had had longer to talk about the article, but it didn't sound like he was displeased with it. Anyway, I thought, at least he wants to see me again. As I turned back to my computer screen, I saw a little smile in the reflection. I got to the restaurant a few minutes early on Wednesday, but when I looked inside Alex was already there and he was wearing his Superman suit. I hadn't expected that. He was chatting animatedly with a man when I walked in, but when he spotted me he shook the man's hand like they were old friends and then came rushing over to me. He bent over and gave me a kiss on the cheek before leading me back to the table. "Who was that man?" I asked curiously. "Oh, that was the restaurant owner. When he saw me come in wearing my suit, he came over and wanted to talk with me," Alex explained nonchalantly as though such things happened every day to him. Then his face took on a look of great animation. "You won't believe everything that's been happening to me," he said, with the excitement of a little boy. "I told you about my friends at work and how surprised they were to read about me. Well, they absolutely demanded that I wear the suit to work on Tuesday. I'd never even thought about doing that because I really want to be taken seriously in my job and I was afraid of what the reaction would be. But they kept insisting, and finally I decided 'what the heck.'" He paused as the waitress delivered our food, then quickly resumed his story in between bites. "Anyway, when I went in Tuesday morning, my friends started going wild, and then my boss walked in. I was terrified, but she just looked at me for a minute. Then she sniffed and said, 'Alright, I guess you can wear that thing, but if it detracts from the work environment, you'll have to change.'" "I was blown away – I thought sure she'd have a fit about it. But the fact that she didn't freak out made me feel just that much more confident. So after lunch I took another big gamble: I did something I'd wanted to do for a while but hadn't dared before I wore the suit." He leaned toward me across the table, and his enthusiasm was palpable. "Every week, publishing houses get dozens of unsolicited manuscripts from wannabe writers. They just get tossed in the 'slushpile,' and most get ignored or sent an automatic 'thanks-but-no-thanks' letter," he explained. "But I started looking through some of them just to see what they were like, and I found one that I thought was really good." "First-time authors are usually pretty terrible; they use poor grammar and devise plots that are either trite or ridiculous. But this one was so much better, and I really thought it might have what it takes to be a good seller. I'd been afraid to take it to Mrs. Grissom, my boss, because junior editors just don't do that." An Interview with Superman He flashed that big grin at me. "Anyway, on Tuesday I decided to act like Superman instead of like myself. So after lunch I went to her office and handed her the manuscript. After she told me to stop wasting her time, I said, "Mrs. Grissom, just take this home and read the first couple of chapters. If I really have wasted your time, then you should fire me, because I obviously don't have the right talent for this job.'" I tried not to show a reaction, but my guts clinched. What Alex was describing was the sort of thing I'd often dreamed about, because I'd always wanted to be a serious writer. I'd even written a novel, but I'd never tried to submit it anywhere because I knew it wasn't good enough. To cover my envy, I said, "You didn't really do that, did you, Alex? I know how much you like your work – you're taking a huge risk." He gave me a wry grin. "Maybe so, but I really believe in this, and I decided it was better to take a risk than always be afraid of failure." "So what happened?" I wanted to know. "Nothing, yet," he said. "Mrs. Grissom went out of town and won't be back till Friday." "Omigod," I said, "I'd be a nervous wreck waiting to find out what she thinks." "That's why I wanted to have lunch with you today: so I'd have something more pleasant on my mind." I blushed in spite of myself. I knew it was just flattery, but it made me feel good anyway. And then he said something that made me feel even better. "There's another reason I wanted to see you today. This Saturday, one of the big online booksellers is holding a fancy cocktail party for the publishing industry. All of us are supposed to go, and I'd really like you to come with me." "You want me to be your date?" I asked in surprise. "Yeah, if you're not in a relationship and you'd like to come." "No, I mean, no, I'm not in a relationship. What I mean is yes, I'd be glad to go with you," I stuttered. "Great," he said, and handed me a copy of the invitation. "Here are all the details. Why don't I meet you there in the lobby at 8:00?" I nodded because I seemed to be having difficulty speaking. To cover my awkwardness, I glanced at my watch. "Oh, wow, I need to get back to work." Alex nodded and began to crane his neck, looking for our waitress to bring our check. But instead, the owner saw him and came over to our table. "It's not often we have a superhero dine with us," he smiled. "Your lunch is on the house." Alex stood and thanked him warmly; then they embraced like men do and we headed for the door. "That was amazing," I told Alex, "I've never seen a restaurant comp a lunch tab like that before." "You need to go out with superheroes more often," he said with a wink. Alex walked me back to my office, waving and nodding to strangers who spoke to him along the way. When we got to the building entrance he said, "Thank you for the wonderful article, and thank you for having lunch with me." Then, before I could respond, he leaned over and gave me a little kiss on the lips. As I stood there in surprise, he turned to leave. "Don't forget about Saturday night," he said with a smile, and then he was gone. "What just happened?" I asked myself as I slowly made my way back to my desk. The rest of the afternoon I had trouble focusing on my work. On Saturday I couldn't believe how nervous I felt getting ready for the cocktail party. "You're acting like you're getting ready for the senior prom," I scolded myself, but then I remembered that I hadn't actually gone to my senior prom because I didn't have a date. Anyway, I pulled out my best little black dress and the black ankle-straps with heels that were higher than I remembered. Checking myself out in the mirror, I wished for umpteenth time that I was a little bigger on top, but I felt like my legs looked pretty good, so I finally decided that I would do. Terri came in to give me a final check. She circled me silently, then stopped in front of me with an approving nod. "Have a good time, sweetie, but take care of yourself," she said solemnly. "Yes, Fairy Godmother," I said with a grin, "I promise I'll be home before midnight." She just shook her head, but I thought I saw a trace of a smile on her face. The event was being held at the Waldorf-Astoria, and I splurged on a cab because I didn't want to get all sweaty in the subway. When I entered the lobby, I didn't spot Alex at first, but then a knot of people parted and there he was, resplendent in his Superman suit. I had just assumed that for an important event like this he would dress in a normal suit and tie or even a tuxedo, but I decided that if he was brave enough to go in costume, I could be brave enough to go with him. As soon as he spotted me, he came rushing over. "I've never seen you in a dress before. You look amazing!" he said, and even though I knew he was just being nice, it still felt good to hear him say it. We took the elevator to the Empire Room, which was already crowded with a throng of people busily eating, drinking and chatting. Nevertheless, an instant buzz went through the room when Alex and I walked in, and before he and I could find something to drink, we were surrounded by people asking questions and making conversation. It was fascinating to see the way these supposedly sophisticated people reacted to Alex in his Superman costume, and once again I was impressed with how easily he dealt with perfect strangers. But it would have been nice if the two of us could have had a chance to spend some time by ourselves. I guess that's what happens when you're with a celebrity, and I had to remind myself that I was at least partially responsible for his notoriety. Just then, three people about our age came running over and began to chatter eagerly with Alex, teasing him about something that had happened at work. I held back so he could talk with his friends, but he grabbed me around the waist and gently pulled me to him. "Hey, everybody," he said, "this is Elle Finn, my date. She's also the reporter who wrote the story in The Times." He turned to me. "These are the people I've been telling you about in my office. This is Jacob and Tommy and Marie," he told me, introducing them one by one. As I shook hands with the two guys, I noticed that they both took the opportunity to check me out, which made me feel good. But when I shook hands with Marie, I thought I saw a hint of jealousy in her eyes. "I bet she was hoping that Alex would ask her to go with him," I thought, and felt a little smug that I was the one on his arm. After a few more minutes of conversation, the three of them waltzed off to the hors d'oeuvres table to refresh their plates, and I seized the opportunity to pull Alex to one side. "So what was all that about something big happening at your office," I asked. "Oh, gosh, I almost forgot to tell you the big news. Mrs. Grissom called me into her office today, and I was sure she was going to give me the axe. But instead, she told me she loved the manuscript I gave her. She thinks it has real potential!" "That's wonderful, Alex!" I said excitedly. "I can't believe it – your gamble paid off." "And that's not all," he went on, "she told me she really admired my initiative and my willingness to take a risk. She said that was the kind of senior editor they need. So instead of getting fired, I got a promotion and a big raise!" "Oh, Alex, congratulations!" I exclaimed, and threw my arms around him. He returned my embrace, and it felt really good until I suddenly felt him stiffen. "What is it?" I asked. "It's Glenda, my ex," he said in a low voice. "She's coming this way. And that's Connor James with her. He's the guy she was cheating with." "Why are they here?" I asked. "I should have guessed she'd be here, but I didn't even think about it," he said. "Her firm does a lot of legal work with the publishing industry." I turned to see a pretty blonde woman in an evening gown, accompanied by a man in a tuxedo. The scowl on her face made her look like she had eaten something sour. She didn't wait to reach us before she began speaking in an angry voice. "I can't believe you would show up at an event like this wearing that stupid Halloween costume, Alex! You're making a complete fool of yourself." Alex folded his arms across his chest, and I could see the tension in his posture. "Why are you so upset, Glenda? What do you care what I choose to wear?" "You look ridiculous in that padded suit, and it's embarrassing to me for you to be here looking like that with all these important people." "It's too bad you're embarrassed, but I'll wear what I want to wear, whether you like it or not," Alex said, and then added, "And for your information, the suit is not padded." Reflexively, Glenda reached out and touched his bicep, then jerked her hand away in wide-eyed embarrassment when she realized what she had done. Clearly trying to change the subject, she glanced over at me. "You haven't introduced me to your little companion for the evening," she said tartly. "I beg your pardon," he said in a sarcastic tone of voice. "Glenda Preston, allow me to introduce Elle Finn. She's the reporter for The New York Times who wrote the story about me in the Sunday magazine." She looked at me with a sneer. "How appropriate," she said, "a junior editor at a publishing house and a reporter for a newspaper: two losers from two dying industries." Then, before either of us could react, she grabbed her date's arm and said loudly, "Come on, Connor, let's get out of here." Alex started to stalk after her, but I grabbed his arm. "Please don't make a scene, Alex," I begged. "Who cares what she thinks?" For a second I thought he was going to pull away from me and go after her, but then his muscles relaxed. "Okay, Elle, I'll let it go. It's just that she has a way of getting to me. I've hardly seen or spoken to her since she walked out, and I thought she couldn't upset me any more. Then, in less than two minutes she insults me and you, and there's nothing I can do about it." I didn't want to ask but I couldn't stop myself from voicing my fears. "Do you still have feelings for her, Alex?" I asked. He was startled. "Oh, God, no! It's not that at all. I guess what upsets me so much is that she was the one who screwed around, she was the one who lied and walked out on me, and I'm the one who feels bad. Then she suddenly appears tonight and acts as though everything is my fault. And there's nothing I can do about it." It was clear that he was still hurt by what had happened, but I felt better that he wasn't still hung up on Glenda. I tried to divert his attention by talking about his work and my own. We stayed and circulated, me drinking champagne, him drinking soda water, and the two of us eating enough hors d'oeuvres to make a meal. We even went out on the floor and danced a little, and both of us began to feel better. Finally, Alex leaned over and told me, "I'm ready to go if you are." When I nodded, he escorted me downstairs and we grabbed a waiting cab. "I can afford one of these more often now," he said with a little smile. As we rode down to my apartment, I thought about what had happened tonight. I really liked Alex and admired him in so many ways. At the same time, I realized that he'd been badly wounded by what Glenda had done. He'd told me that before, but tonight I got to see first-hand what a hold she still had on him. "What a bitch!" I thought angrily, and wished there were something I could do to help. I was beginning to feel very protective of this contradictory man who was both strong and weak at the same time. Perhaps because of that, or just because a little of the courage from his Superman suit was rubbing off on me, when we reached my place I asked him if he'd like to come up for a little while. He looked at me solemnly and said, "Yes, very much so." As I unlocked the door to my darkened apartment, I whispered, "My roomie is probably asleep, so we'll have to be quiet." But when I reached for the light switch, his big hand covered mine to stop me. Then he swept me up in his arms like I weighed nothing. "Which one is your bedroom?" he asked, and all I could do was point. Truthfully, this was what I'd hoped for when I invited him in, but I hadn't expected him to read my mind so well nor to take charge so completely. But now I was glad he had done so. He laid me on my bed gently, and then his mouth was on mine and his tongue was searching and teasing my own. I was startled to discover I was panting. In no time at all my clothes had disappeared, and I was glad for the semi-darkness. Then his costume came off, and I marveled at the musculature I could see in the dim light. Now he was beside me and his lips and fingers were everywhere, first caressing and soothing me, then building a sense of urgency that threatened to overwhelm me. My nipples are longer than average, and they're very sensitive. His fingers sought them out and began to rub and twist them gently, driving me wild. I certainly wasn't a virgin, but the sexual experiences I'd had to date had been pretty unsatisfying. So even though I had wanted this to happen, I was surprised at the intensity of the sensations and my emotions. I closed my eyes and let him do whatever he wanted, enjoying every second of it. Suddenly my eyes popped open when I realized he was kneeling between my legs and licking the insides of my thighs. Involuntarily, my hips lifted; then I was startled when his tongue ran over the lips of my vagina. None of my other lovers had done such a thing. Of course I'd touched myself with my fingers there many times, but the sensation of his tongue was so different and – oooh! -- so much better. I normally try not to make too much noise, but in spite of myself I groaned out loud as his probing mouth brought intense pleasure. I found myself raising my legs and wrapping them around his broad shoulders, using my heels on his back to lever myself up toward the lips and tongue that were driving me crazy. I heard myself moaning, "Oh!, oh!, oh!, oh!" as the inner tension kept building; then suddenly I cried out as the sensations reached an incredible peak, and I fell back on the bed. "Omigod," I thought, "it was never that intense when I touched myself. That must have been a real orgasm!" As I lay there with my eyes closed, my body luxuriating in the quivers still running through my vagina, I felt his fingers gently caressing me, and I was embarrassed by how wet I was. Then, to my surprise I felt the tension slowly beginning to build in me again. Just as I was about to say something, I felt his body shift, and now he was looming over me. His penis ran between the lips of my vagina, and when it rubbed across my clitoris, I shuddered and moaned at the sensation. Then he pulled back and his penis slipped inside me in a long, slow motion that filled me wonderfully. He lifted my legs and began to stroke in and out of me in a smooth, pulsing motion, and I heard myself start to whimper again. When his penis pressed inward, I felt exquisite pressure on my clitoris, and now there came a new sensation as the head rubbed against my inner walls. Once again his fingers found my nipples, and it felt as though an electric current was flowing between them and my vagina. The build-up was slower this time, maybe because I'd already had one orgasm, but it continued to grow stronger and stronger, and my body began to rock and arch in time with his, stretching to intensify the sensations. "Oh, please, don't stop, please, don't stop, don't stop," I began to chant, completely forgetting about my roommate and everything else. Then I was pulling at his back and thrusting my hips up at him, crying "Now, now, please now!" as the sensations overwhelmed me. I collapsed on the bed, shuddering as the spasms kept coursing through my vagina. Alex continued to drive himself into me faster and faster until he gave a loud groan and pushed himself as deep as he could, triggering yet another spasm in me. Then, after a few more thrusts he collapsed on me, and his weight felt good as we clung to each other. Finally, he rolled to one side. His big hand reached out to brush the hair out of my face, and there was a tender, questioning look on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Was that good?" I was still in a daze and couldn't think clearly to choose my words well. All I could say was, "It was super!" He laughed, and when I realized what I'd said, I began laughing too. We clung to each other and eventually drifted off to sleep. When I awoke in the morning, I reached over for him, but his side of the bed was empty. Dismay swept over me at the thought that he had snuck out, but before I could begin to feel sorry for myself, he reappeared through the door, and I realized he must have had to use the bathroom. I felt relieved and happy as he crawled back under the sheet beside me and proceeded to fall asleep again. After a while I got up and took a quick shower before making some coffee and starting breakfast. I heard the shower running again and I figured he was up as well. Sure enough, he appeared shortly, giving me a grateful smile as he smelled the food. I had just fixed him a plate when my roommate's door opened and she appeared in her robe and slippers. "Alex," I said, "this is my roommate, Terri Feldman. Terri, this is Alex Stevenson." They shook hands, and after she poured herself a cup of coffee, she sat down and continued to stare at Alex so intently that he couldn't help but notice. "I guess you're not used to seeing someone wearing a Superman costume," he said good-naturedly. "No," she said, "I'm not used to seeing my roomie bring home a man." Alex chuckled while I blushed in embarrassment. Sunday was a rainy day, and since Terri had to go out, I asked Alex if he could stay for a while. He agreed and we spent the morning sitting on the couch, reading the Sunday paper. I began to feel warm and domestic. Warning signals were going off in my head, but I ignored them because I was enjoying myself so much. After a while Alex put down the paper and turned to me. "So what's the deal with your roommate? She seems a lot older than you. Are you two related?" "No," I laughed, "although she sometimes acts like my mother. She sort of adopted me at work, and when my old boyfriend kicked me out of his apartment, she invited me to move in with her. Terri's been watching out for me ever since." He nodded. After another couple of minutes, he spoke up again. "I just realized: you already know all about me," he said. "How about letting me hear your story?" I poured myself another cup of coffee and began. An Interview with Superman Finally he told me he had to get home in order to get ready for work on Monday. As he left, he gave me a little kiss and said, "I'll call you." I hoped he meant it, but that was the same thing my last date had said, and I never heard from him again. I was really hoping Alex was sincere, especially since in a lot of ways this had been the best weekend of my life. I wasn't ready for this to be over. Terri came home a little later and gave me a careful look. "Well, I'll give you this: he's definitely eye candy." When I didn't say anything, she looked at me intently. "You've really got it bad, haven't you? I've never seen you act this way about a guy." "He really is special," I admitted, "but I still have lots of doubts. It's so weird: I'm happier than I've ever been, but at the same time I'm scared to death." She just shook her head. "If he hurts you, I'll put a contract out on him." I knew she was joking, but I really did appreciate her concern. She started down the hall, but then turned back. "Oh, and next time, be sure to use an air freshener – this place stinks!" I turned crimson. On Monday evening when I got home, I had no sooner closed the door than my phone rang. It was Alex, and he was so excited I could hardly understand him. "Elle, you won't believe what happened today! Some people from CBS called – I'm going to be on The Letterman Show tomorrow night!" He went on about how he'd been a big fan of David for years, and that he couldn't believe he was going to be a guest on his idol's show. "Is your being on Letterman going to be a problem with Mrs. Grissom?" I asked, but Alex assured me there would be no problem with the publishing house. "As far as they're concerned, this is great publicity for them," he enthused. I promised him I would watch – as if I could have done anything else! – but after I'd hung up I began to have mixed feelings. On the one hand I was so pleased for Alex's sudden good fortune and so glad he'd wanted to call me to share the news. On the other hand, a nagging voice was asking if I liked the real Alex or just the man in the suit. Now that I thought about it, I realized I'd never seen him without it – except when we'd been in bed together. Then I suddenly began to wonder if the costume had become a crutch, something he needed to get through life. I tried to brush my doubts aside, but they wouldn't go away so easily. That's so like me to worry about good news. Needless to say, Tuesday night Terri and I were ensconced in front of the tv in time for the Letterman Show. David's first guest was a pretty young pop singer in a very short skirt who performed her latest hit and then sat down on the couch for some banter with the host. Then, after a commercial break, David introduced the "man everyone in New York is talking about, the City's latest hero: Superman!" The audience cheered as Alex came on, waving to the crowd, then shaking hands with David and the pop star. I found myself holding my breath, hoping Alex wouldn't do anything to make himself appear ridiculous, but I needn't have worried. Despite his hero-worship for Letterman, Alex proved relaxed and at ease in conversation. He told the story about why he began wearing the suit, and then went on to recount his confrontation with the biker in the bar. That story got an appreciative response from the audience. In response to several leading questions from David, Alex deftly made self-deprecating answers that brought laughter and a round of applause. I could tell that even Letterman was impressed. The pop star, on the other hand, couldn't resist rubbing Alex's biceps and making suggestive comments about his being the "man of steel." "Show us your super strength," she persisted, even after Alex demurred. But after she begged for the third time, he winked at Letterman, then stood up, bent over and grabbed the shrieking young woman under her arms, easily whirling her around in a large circle and, in the process, revealing that she was wearing a thong. When he deftly deposited her back on the couch, she gasped out, "Oh my god, that was awesome!!" and the audience burst into more laughter and applause. Never one to miss a cue, Letterman shouted, "Ladies and gentlemen: Superman!" and the applause turned into an ovation. Alex turned and bowed to the singer, shook hands again with Letterman, and left the stage, waving as the audience continued to applaud. Terri turned to me in amazement. "What a performance! Are you sure he's never been on tv before?" "I don't think so," I said, but I too was blown away with how well Alex's appearance had gone. I was beginning to be convinced the suit really was magic. The next day at work I checked some of the blogs from the overnight critics and saw that Alex's appearance had drawn a raft of favorable comments. I tried to call him to congratulate him, but every time his line was busy, so I left him a voice mail. It wasn't until that afternoon that he called back. "I'm sorry not to get back to you sooner, Elle," he said, "but my phone has been ringing off the hook all day. And listen to this: I had a call from the William Morris Agency. They want to represent me -- they think I have show business potential!" "Really? That's incredible, Alex," I said. "What did you tell them?" "Well, I told them I wanted to think about it. It would mean I'd have to quit my job here. But the guy said he thought they could book me into a lot of shows and speaking engagements, and that could mean a lot of money. He even hinted that they might be able to work out something with Hollywood for a film deal!" That nagging voice I'd heard before was now shouting at me, but I tried not to let my fears come through in my voice. "Oh, Alex, I'm so glad for you. It sounds like everything is really turning your way." "I know," he said, "but I don't want to rush into this and make a decision I'll come to regret." He gave a wry laugh. "I already did that once with Glenda." I offered to help him any way I could, but then another call came in for him and he had to ring off. "I'll talk to you tomorrow," he promised. When I went home that evening I felt oddly depressed. I was glad for the success coming Alex's way, but all I could see was him wearing that Superman suit for years to come. What kind of future could he and I have if he was headed out on the talk show circuit, or even worse, to Hollywood? I felt like he cared for me, but I saw myself becoming nothing more than a footnote in his story. The hopeful side of me kept imploring me not to get ahead of myself, but the pessimist in me said that trouble was already here and piling up on my doorstep. Writing is one of the ways I relax, but that night I couldn't find it in myself even to do that. Terri poked her head in the door and demanded to know what was troubling me, and I broke down and tearfully told her my fears. "If you ask me," Terri said, "the real problem is that Glenda woman. She's his kryptonite: he can't stop wearing the suit because she still has the power to hurt him. You want me to put out a contract on her?" I laughed and shooed her out of my room. Two days later I was working on a routine assignment at my office when a colleague came over and caught my attention. "Hey, Elle, aren't you the one dating Superman?" When I blushed and admitted that we'd gone out together, he pointed to my computer and said, "Well, take a look at Gawker today, because there's an article that mentions him." The first time I checked the news and gossip blog, I didn't see the story because I was looking for a picture of Alex, but on second look I found it. Underneath the headline "The Woman Who Broke Superman's Heart" was a picture of a woman stalking angrily down the street trying to fend off the camera. I suddenly realized that it was Glenda Preston, Alex's ex-wife. According to the reporter, who was clearly sympathetic to Alex, "Everyone in New York is asking who hurt Superman so badly." She then went on to reveal "in a Gawker exclusive" the whole story about how Glenda had been cheating on Alex with attorney Connor James for months before finally leaving Alex. There were enough juicy details to make it clear that someone in the know had ratted Glenda out. I immediately tried to call Alex but once again couldn't get through. He didn't call me that night either, which made me a little more apprehensive, and I decided not to bug him. Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt a distance growing between us, and the courage I'd begun to feel when I was with him seemed to dissipate. One of the things we do regularly at the newspaper is to check to see what stories our competitors are running. Of course, we at the Times don't admit that we have any competition, but we check the other news media anyway, just in case. To make it worse, on this day I was checking out the Daily News, which people at the Times don't even admit is a legitimate newspaper. Nevertheless, when I scanned the New York section my eye was caught by a story under the headline, "Superman's Ex Gets Axe." Sure enough, the story recounted in breathless terms how Glenda Preston had been relieved of her responsibilities at the law firm of Denison and Lowser, and that Connor James, whom the story dubbed "her paramour," had also left under a cloud. A senior partner at Denison and Lowser was quoted as saying their behavior on company time had brought disrepute on the firm's good name – as if any law firm has a good name! But I remembered how she'd acted toward me at the cocktail party and was glad that there was some justice in the world after all. This time when I called Alex I was surprised to get through to him. When I started to tell him about the article in the Daily News, he interrupted me. "Oh, yes," he said, "I've heard every word of it, because Glenda herself called to tell me about it. She roasted me up one side and down the other, accusing me of planting the story. Even when I pointed out details that I couldn't have known, she still refused to believe I wasn't behind it." "So how do you feel about it," I asked. "I guess I'm still processing it all," he said. "Everything has happened so fast, and I'm not sure what to make of it." He paused like he was trying to make a decision. Finally, he went on, "Elle, this week has been the craziest of my life, and there are some things I need to talk about with you. Could you possibly meet me Saturday afternoon at the Central Park Zoo?" When I agreed, we set a time and then he rang off. As I hung up, I felt encouraged that he wanted to talk with me about his life. But in a little while my doubts began to grow, and by that evening I needed to talk them over with Terri. She understood my concerns about Alex, and she even suggested more reasons that I should be extra cautious. "I just don't want to see you get hurt," she said. "The thing I want to know," I told her, "is why he wants to meet me at the Zoo? What's up with that?" She was on it in a flash. "It's the kids," she said. "That place is always swarming with kids, and I bet he wants to do his Superman thing with them. Maybe he's even got some media lined up to film him in action." My heart sank; it all made sense now. This was going to be the unveiling of his new career in show business. I hoped it would turn out the way he wanted, but I knew that it wasn't going to turn out for me at all. I wanted to be his girlfriend, not a prop in the Alex/Superman show. I hate to admit it but I shed a few tears that night after I went to bed. The next afternoon I almost didn't go, but Terri insisted. "Look, at least he had the decency to want to tell you to your face. Give him the courtesy of listening to his story, even if it may not be the one you want to hear. Who knows – it might be something completely different." I knew she was right, so I did my best to calm my fears and headed uptown to the Park. I caught the F train to 57th and 6th, then walked around The Pond and up the East Drive till I came to the entrance of the zoo. There was a cluster of children laughing and playing near the ticket booth, and I fully expected to see Alex entertaining them. But there was no sign of his red and blue costume anywhere. I bought a ticket and wandered up to the main entrance, but still couldn't spot him, so I found a shady place to wait. As I sat there thinking about all that happened, I idly noted a man in jeans and a t-shirt walking in my direction. When he stopped directly in front of me, I was startled. "Alex," I squeaked in surprise, "is that you?" I hadn't even recognized him. I'd planned out a whole conversation in my mind, and now that he'd shown up in "civvies" I couldn't think what to say. As we ambled along toward the center of the zoo, I babbled, "I don't think I've ever seen you when you weren't wearing the Superman costume." "Are you disappointed?" he asked, and his voice had an anxious note in it that surprised me. "No, it's not that," I said. "It's just that I expected to find you playing with the kids and being your alter ego." "Actually, that's what I wanted to talk with you about," he said, as we came up to the sea lion pool. We paused at the railing to watch the playful creatures swimming and barking for a minute, then he led me over to a bench. He stayed silent so long that I couldn't take the suspense any more. "So what's going on, Alex?" I asked, trying not to sound too anxious. "Why aren't you wearing the costume?" He turned to look at me, and I thought I spied apprehension in his eyes again. "You know I started wearing the suit because of Glenda. I was devastated by her leaving and humiliated that she had made me into a cuckold. I know it was a crazy thing to do, but the thing is, the suit seemed to help. I didn't feel so vulnerable when I was wearing it, and that helped me get a little self-confidence back. I started working out and stopped drinking, and that was good too." "Then came all that publicity, and things started happening really fast. I got a promotion at work when I took that manuscript to my boss, then I went on Letterman, and now I've got people who want me to go to Hollywood." He reached down and took my hand. "But the best thing that happened to me out of all this was meeting you," he said quietly. My breath caught in my throat and my hopes started to rise, but he dashed them with his next words. "But now I've got a problem, and I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you." "I don't understand, Alex." "The thing is, I started wearing that suit to protect me from humiliation. But now that everybody knows the real story, she's the one who's been humiliated. She can't hurt me anymore, and now she has to suffer the consequences of her actions. As a result, now I don't really feel the need to wear the suit anymore." I was encouraged to hear what he was saying, yet I couldn't help pointing out the implications. "But Alex, if you stop wearing the suit it means passing up those opportunities that agent was talking about. You could be giving up real fame and fortune." "Maybe," he said, "but that's not who I am, not who I want to be. And that's what scares me." He stared into my eyes. "Are you going to be disappointed if I give all that up? Would you still be interested in me if I'm not Superman anymore?" "Oh, Alex!" I cried, and flung myself into his arms, kissing him wildly and crying at the same time. When I finally calmed down, he held me at arm's length and gave me that great smile. "I guess that means you're okay with it." Behind us the seals started barking and clapping, and we both had to laugh. As we began to head back to the subway, I tried to tell him how happy I was about his decision and how impressed I was with all the changes he'd made since Glenda walked out on him. "Wearing the suit was kinda weird," I admitted, "but it was what you needed to get you to where you are today, and I'm good with that." When we got to my apartment, Terri was waiting with her hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face. But when she saw the two of us together, she relaxed and smiled. "So I guess things went okay after all," she said, and came over to give me a little hug. Then she turned to Alex. "You better treat her right, Superman, or I'll be looking for you." But she said it with a pleased smile, and Alex leaned over, gave her a hug and promised her he would. "Okay," Terri said, "I've got to go meet some friends, and you two look like you could use a little privacy." As she reached the door, she turned back to look at me. "Don't forget," she said, "the air freshener is in the cupboard." With that she walked out, leaving me blushing. Alex came over to put his arms around me. "She really does care about you, doesn't she?" he said. "Like I said, she's been more like my guardian angel than my roommate," I told him. "She can be a little pushy sometimes, but it's nice to know she's got my back." As the two young people retreated to Elle's bedroom, Terri walked along the sun-splashed sidewalk until she came to a little sidewalk cafe. Spotting her two friends waiting at a table, she waved and asked the waiter for a drink as she sat down. "Well," one of the women said, "don't keep us in suspense. Did it work out like you hoped?" "Yes!" Terri exulted, pumping her fist in triumph. "I finally got Alex out of that Superman costume and the two of them together. They're back at the apartment now, and judging by the way they were looking at each other, they're going to be together for a long time!" The other woman shook her head in admiration. "I have to hand it to you, Terri: you've got the touch." Terri lowered her eyes with obvious false modesty. "It was nothing," she said. "Of course for a while I wasn't too sure about the boy. When I first saw him wearing that costume I thought he was a crazy man, a meshugener. But Elle was obviously entranced by him, and after I learned more about him I realized he was a good man who'd been badly hurt by the bitch he'd married. Even though they were divorced, it was obvious to me that she still had an evil influence over him. I figured that if I was going to get Elle and him together I'd have to do something to break that curse." The second friend leaned forward. "So how did you do it?" "Well," Terri went on, "I did have a little help. My sister works at the same law firm as the bitch, and she gave me the inside scoop on what was going on there. All I had to do then was call a blogger I know at Gawker and give her the juicy stuff. When the story broke, that was all it took to expose the ex-wife and give her what she deserved. Once that happened, Alex was freed from her curse, just like I figured." "Perfect!" her friend exclaimed. "You think that's good?" Terri went on smugly. "Wait till you hear what else I've done for Elle." "Well" the second woman said, "come on. What have you done now?" Terri reached into her voluminous handbag and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "What is it?" the first woman asked. "It's a book contract for Elle!" Terri said triumphantly. "She's never believed she was good enough, but I knew better. So I took a copy of her manuscript, pretended to be her agent and sent it off to a publisher. Sure enough, they've offered her a contract." She winked at the other ladies. "Maybe it will turn out to be my wedding present to her!" The second woman shook her head in admiration and raised her glass. "I nominate Terri Feldman for Yenta of the Year!" The three women laughed and drained their glasses. Terri looked at her friends and smiled. "I don't know about that, but I do know one thing," she said. "If you want to get something done, it doesn't take a costume or super powers. All you need is a little chutzpah."