"Superman's Dead"
By Jason Granado

He sits alone in his apartment, nursing yet another beer. How many he has drunk, he couldn’t tell you, having lost count after 12 or so. The alcoholic haze shifts past his many thoughts begin to focus around one in particular, his son who is spending yet another holiday away from him.

Tears begin to flow as he stares with deep regret at the 8”x10” picture hanging right above his computer monitor. A picture that he has often curled up next to when there was no one else to comfort him. He sits and remembers the day his son was born, and the many mixed emotions that he felt as he openly cried for the very first time, not caring who saw or what they thought. The love for his son had choked him then, and does to this very day, but like so many nights they are apart, separated by thousands of miles.

A knock at the door startles him, and for the briefest of moments he plays with the thought that his son might be waiting for him to open the door. Heartbeats pass before he can finally crawl off his couch, and in that heartbeat the sound of many kids shouting “Trick or Treat” fills the moments before quiet apartment. Confused he sits back down, and finally the haze lifts long enough for him to remember that is it Halloween.

Mumbling a few cuss words he plops back on the couch as the kids leave to knock on another door in hopes of acquiring more candy. Tears free flow once again down his cheeks as he wonders what his son is dressed as tonight, a superhero? Maybe he’s dressed as a Power Ranger? Grabbing his bottle of vodka he sobs through another guzzle as he realizes that they don’t even make Power Rangers anymore.

So many holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, and few have they spent together. Absent for his early years, he tried to be there for his older years and was shunned away, and now that his son is old enough to visit him alone, he chooses not to; favoring someone else as his “father”. Fresh is still the wound, from the day when his own flesh and blood said to his face “You’re not my father, I don’t know you.” Many years have passed since that day, and still it stabs at his heart from a distance that only time can achieve. His one comfort throughout all these years have been his exercising, which has put him at the best shape of his life; outwardly anyway.

The man, who could have once had his every thinking dream come true, is now degraded to nothing more than a withering pile of leftover dreams and hopes. He doesn’t have a woman to love him anymore, no family, no friends, and no son; he is a man who has truly lost everything worth living for. After another guzzle of vodka, he decides to spend Halloween the way he was meant to, alone and as his alter ego.

It takes him an hour just to walk the short distance between his couch and the bedroom closet, but finally he has made it. Another hour passes before he is dressed for the occasion. His costume is simple yet uniformly known by many, comprised mostly of blue spandex costume; which highlights his toned figure. Red size nine and a half boots and a yellow belt complete the lower half. A cape matching the color of his boots goes down to his ankles, flowing loosely by the wind from the open window he stands in front of. Completing the costume is the most important part of his outfit, adorning his chest is a yellow “S” inside a red pentagon, a symbol that also adorns his belt buckle and the back of his cape. Looking into his standing mirror, he looks sadly at the superhero image that his son will never view him as.

For many years growing up he viewed himself as this superhero, always helping others that he cared about. A source of comfort for his friends, a companion to those who would have him, a man of steel that anyone could vent their problems with, knowing that he would not take offense or throw it back at them. He was a welcomed friend in their time of need, and few ever embraced him equally; those few that did have long since left to travel their own paths in life. Left alone, he hasn’t had anyone to turn to in his most troubling of times, a man who burned one too many bridges. Superman looks upon his reflection with regret and sadness.

The haze lifting ever so slightly and the night still being young he decides to go out and get some fresh air. Living in a nice part of the South Bronx, superman has easy access to the roof of his building. Regardless of city code, the landlord has always allowed the roof to be used by any of the tenants that want to spend some time up there for parties or whatnot. For those who care to stare at the stars, this roof is a perfect place to sit and dream, something that Superman has done many times in the years that he has lived here. Once upon a time he would sit and stare at the moon, wondering if the two people he cared the most for were looking at it too. A small comfort was gained from staring at the moon, but tonight would not be one of those nights. The haze has taken too much of his mind, and only helped to amplify the tormented feelings he carries within his heart.

Ten minutes after leaving his apartment behind he finally makes it to the roof. The cold night is peaceful and still, as not a single cloud is covering this night of the full moon. Walking close to the edge he can hear the sound of children laughing as they boast about their haul of candy. Peering over that edge he sees demonic creature, much like the ones that haunt his waking nightmares, pirates and pumpkins, police and criminals, and off in the distance a lowly Red Power Ranger. With a smile he raises his bottle and drinks to the Power Ranger as he remember the time he wore the exact same costume to go trick or treating with his mother. Thinking back on those days, he realizes that they weren’t as bad as he thought they were when he would complain about them; hell, compared to his days now anything was better. Greener grass on someone else’s lawn.

Having lost track of the Red Ranger, he looks over at the other kiddies walking down the streets, long since past are the days when he would be able to walk with his own son; not that it would happen anyway. Hating himself for breaking his momentary happiness he drowns his sorrows with another mouthful of vodka, a fresh bottle that he grabbed from his kitchen since the other one spilled all over his bed before he realized what was happening. His internal pain briefly halted, he smiles at the children on the streets.

Remembering that he is dressed like the man of steel, he decides to have some fun. Setting down the bottle he stumbles to the center of the roof, grabs the edges of his cape, and pretends to be soaring through the clouds. Few people ever knew that his one dream as a child was to soar through the skies like a bird, perpetual freedom as only nature can provide, and for one brief moment he gains that as the last son of Krypton. His inner child embracing the alcoholic madness that his depression has induced, he coos like a child in utter bliss. His thoughts turn to his son once again as he wonders if his son were having as much fun as he was, and in the second that it took to think that thought the depression hits him again harder than ever. “I’ve never even heard him laugh.” he weeps as he collapses onto the cold tarred floor of the roof. The sounds of his cries are drowned out by the sound of laughing children down below.

Not caring anymore, and not wanting to feel any more pain he crawls over to his bottle and chugs down the rest of it. The liquor runs down his chin and down the front of his costume, some of it being absorbed by the fabric of the “S” on his chest. Wishing to not only drown his sorrows but himself as well, he doesn’t stop until there is not a single drop left in the bottle. Only when he is finished does he stop drinking from the bottle and gently settles it beside him on the floor.

With a heavy sigh he stares up at the cold sky, more directly he stares at the moon. The large hunk of rock peering monolithically down upon the world and all of its creatures. This motherly object which at one time held so much hope and promise for him, is now nothing more than a living constant symbol of his most heartbreaking moment.

Stumbling to his feet he continues to stare at the moon, which doesn’t help his attempt at getting up. “You fucking bitch, always up there looking down like some fucking God. You think it’s funny don’t you bitch? When the hell have I ever asked you for a fucking thing huh? When? Never, I kept giving and giving and giving, just hoping that one-day you would give me my one wish. My mother used to light candles to you and pray to you, and you never gave her anything, and you did the same to me. Weren’t we good enough for you? Didn’t we do enough for you? Talk to me you fucking bitch, give me that much at least… All I ever wanted was to be happy, that’s all. I never asked for money or fame or anything, just to be happy with my son. But no, you couldn’t even give me that. I was naïve enough to try to be there for everyone, and look at me now, fucking alone dressed like superman, talking to the fucking moon…”

Those last words having struck a chord in his delusional mind, he quits his conversation with the unhearing body of rock hanging in the sky. Crying silently he knows that there is still one last dream that he can make come true. Allowing his childhood self to break free of the walls of seclusion that his adulthood has forced around it, he tries to capture his childhood dream.

His unconscious mind carries him up as he slowly walks to the roofs exit. After going down 3 steps he tumbles down the rest and lands with a breathless laughter that comes from deep within his soul. Finally being able to stand he rides the elevator down the 5 flights til he reaches the ground floor. Superman immerges from the elevator to find a group of kids being escorted by a very attractive woman that lives next door to him. “Happy Xmas!” he obscenely yells as the mother quickly pushes the kids into the elevator and closes the door, mentally taking a note to tell the landlord in the morning.

Walking down the streets is an interesting experience for him, almost like the first time he walked a street while high. People walking by are a blur as his thoughts fail to catch up to the visions being seen by his eyes. Mentally he has no clue where he is going, but inwardly he knows exactly where he needs to be. The walk is a short distance from where he lives, but to him it feels like an eternity as the constant people he passes by all give him a look of pity and disgust. Arriving at the bus stop he waits for just a few moments as it arrives and he climbs onboard. Somewhere along the way he had grabbed his MetroCard before leaving his apartment to get to the roof. With the giggles he fruitlessly inserts the card several times before the driver snatches it from him and turns it around the right way. Having paid for his ride he grabs a seat at the front of the bus, drunkenly thanking the irritated bus-driver for helping him. The driver, not wanting this guy to get lost asks him where he wants to get off, a few minutes later he remembers where he is going and tells the driver.

The ride takes about an hour before reaching its destination, a ride that seemed short considering he had fallen asleep long ago. After being awakened by the driver, he stumbles off, the driver waiting to see if he will be ok. Seeing that the man dressed as Superman is heading towards a building, he closes the door and continues his route.

Superman searches for one building in particular; which is often forgotten by those who pass by the neighborhood. Old and abandoned now, this building was once a very high class and illustrious place to live. In the old days people would get on a two year waiting list just to be considered as a tenant, but every since the fire took four buildings and the Dominican’s moved nearby, the neighborhood as been forgotten by anyone considered “important.” This block holds many memories for him, all of which rises to the surface of his thoughts and adds to his already tormented heart.

He could never forget this one building, though he never lived in it before in his life. He only came here one other time, many years ago when he was in a very dark place within his mind. Recalling that long lost day with uncanny clarity, he relives the memories as he walks through the same hallways. His slightly haze lightened mind processing a little more now than an hour ago, he climbs the stairs that have long since been abandoned by anything living larger than a mouse or rat. The stairways are broken and torn, the once lovely paint and wallpaper long since deteriorated into dust that now covers the once carpeted stairs. Cracks and creaks can be heard with each step, but never once does he fear that they will give way. In the back of his mind he feels as though the building has been waiting for him all these years, waiting for him to finish what he started long ago.

As he climbs the stairs he sees with his minds eye a young man around the age of 17, walking right before him. Blue jeans, slightly torn on the left knee from a nasty fall, a dark stain of blood running down the pant leg. The young man silently weeps as he climbs another stairway to the fifth floor, the light from the seventh floor opening to the roof shining down like the light at the end of the proverbial white tunnel. Guiding him further, this shining light gets brighter with each step he takes upward, closer to his fate.

Finally reaching the roof, the young man named, Jason opens the door with purpose and determination. Lacking fear for himself he closes the door behind him, knowing that it can only be opened from the inside, a concept that he always thought was stupid to begin with, but for him serves a purpose. His plan etched in stone by the hand of fate and the man who installed the door backwards, he slowly walks towards the edge facing the back of the building. No one passes through this dark part of the building but the superintendent, and that only happens in the morning when he takes out the trash, now only stray cats and rats the size of small dogs pass through here. Carefully he steps on this edge and looks down at the floor.

If Jason had been able to see into the future that day, he would have seen a middle aged man dressed as “Superman” standing right beside him; but Jason can’t see into the future so he can’t but Superman sees him clearly. The two stand on the edge of this old building, light-years apart from each other in time, but only heartbeats away from each other.

In the back of his mind Superman hears a voice from the past shouting at him to get down from the edge. Turning their heads in unison, Jason and Superman both stare at the blue cobalt eyes of their closest friend Nicole. “Please, Jason, don’t do this, get the fuck down from there.” In unison, Jason and Superman both reply, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t, no one gives a damn anyway least of all me. So why bother worrying about me?”

They both see the look of hurt on her face as the words leave their mouths, and the words she says next stick like a knife in both their hearts. “You always tell me that no one loves you, that no one cares, yet every time you need someone to say it to who the fuck is there for you? I am. You say that no one loves you yet here I am crying and yelling for you to get down from there. Do you think I don’t have anything else to do with my life than baby-sit you through these mood swings of yours? Don’t you think I have my own damn problems, Jason? If I didn’t love you I wouldn’t be over here trying to get you down, I’d be on the edge next to you. And fact is, maybe I should be.”

Before Jason can reply with shock, she climbs right next to him on the edge. “Alright, you’re gonna do this then so am I, cause I’ll be damned if I’m going to your fucking funeral, Jason. I love you too damn much and we’ve been through too much for me to bury you like this.”

The three of them stand on the edge, Jason and Superman both staring at Nicole in shock and confusion. Superman watches as Jason grabs her hand and pulls her back down to the floor of the roof, grabbing her in his arms with all the love any man can have for his sister. She bursts into tears and punches the hell out of his chest cursing him for putting through this again. All he can say in response is “I’m so sorry” as he too begins to weep. The two of them collapse on the floor and just hold each other for a moment before rising up and leaving the roof back to her grandmother’s apartment. Grabbing the sneaker she used to hold the door open, Jason looks back on the edge and for a moment his past and his future stare eye to eye, as they both raise a hand to each other and mouth a goodbye to each other. At the time, Jason just thought he was saying goodbye to another attempt at his life, little did he know that years later he would be saying goodbye to himself.

As the door to the roof closes in the past, the spot where Superman stood is now vacant. From far below the sound of a heavy crash is heard, as a cat screeches from fear. A bird perched on a nearby tree flies through the sky, to land on the edge that Superman was moments ago standing on. Peering downward it sees a bright red and blue thing lying on the ground, unmoving. The bird flies downward for a curious glance at the strange object catching its attention, and since the bird has no concept of a smile, he doesn’t notice the peaceful smile upon the blood splattered face of the thing lying on the cold wet ground.

Soaring up into the sky, the bird flies across town upon the winds of the cool autumn night. It flies for a while before finding the perfect spot to spend the night, instinct reminding him that it is here that a man often leaves food out on the windowsill. Perched on the window, the bird looks inside the uncovered window and sees a small red thing walking inside beside a larger human. If the bird could read the words on the red things chest it would have read “Mighty Morphing Power Rangers” and right below it the words, “Hi, My Name is Ian Lucas Granado…” From inside the room the bird hears the small red thing say, “Mommy, where’s daddy?”