Eavesdropping Ears Always Burn

The air cools down quickly in the mountains. The breeze is already threatening a bit of a chill as the adults gather on the porch to finish the pitcher of lemonade that my mother made before the warmth of the day quickly fades away, leaving them wanting hot cocoa. The sky has turned into a gorgeous gem with layers of purple, pink, and orange melding into the blue as the sun sinks behind distant mountains. Luckily, they are as transfixed by its beauty as I am or they would notice me listening just around the corner. Then they would send me back to bed. Even those few feet would be too far of a distance.

Even after all that has happened to me in the past few months, they still believe that I am too young. Despite the experiences that have prematurely aged me, they feel I am helpless to understand my own fate. So here they sit, trying to decide my future. Ice clinks in their glasses as all the voices fade out in awe of the beauty of nature.

The silence is broken by my father's voice, "So what is your story, Will? I mean, you aren't a superdude unless I am mistaken."

I listen more intently. This is a question a child would never dare ask an adult, no matter how much we wanted to know the answer. It is also a question that I want the answer to. William clears his throat and shuffles his feet uncomfortably before he begins.

"You're right, the power of the superdudes was never manifested in me. I had heard rumors of the battle between Decay and SD Headquarters, but I thought they were rumors or stories. I mean, you hear so many things from Yetis to UFOs. It gets hard to tell the difference between fact and fiction."

He pauses and I glance at the portions of my parents' faces that are visible in the fading light. I can tell they are nodding, but I can not discern their expressions. I dare not shift to see better because then they will see me, so I lean back further out of sight and listen, hoping the nuances of their speech will fill in the gaps for me.

"And even if it was more than stories. How could it possibly affect me? I grew up in a tiny town where nothing out of the ordinary ever happened. Nothing more extraordinary than the farmer's son deciding to desert the family in order to go to college or the preacher's daughter running off with a drifter. You know, the things that happen in a lot of small towns when children rebel against their parents.

"I wasn't the rebellious sort though. I just wanted to live a peaceful life like my father. I wanted to hunt when it was the season for hunting and fish from time to time. I wanted to bring up my children in a community full of sunshine and fresh air. I wanted to keep living in that same small town where everything went on as it had for years, and no one really needed to lock their doors.

"The closest I got to rebellion was falling in love with a girl who moved into our town about the end of my junior year. Her name was Denise and she was beautiful. She had dark, dark hair and rich brown eyes. Half my friends were instantly in love with her and the other half were blind."

He pauses for a second, laughing nervously. I can hear the warmth in his voice as he talks about her, but somehow it seems as if a coldness seeps over me. I lean forward, listening intently as he continues.

"I was in luck though. Somehow I got Denise's attention and kept it. We started dating before the year was through and I spent every dime I made that summer on her. We went to dinner. We went to the movies. I'd buy her trinkets from the local store. We'd go swimming in old man Hodge's pond. It was like a fairy tale romance without any fairies needed.

"So no one in town was surprised when we got married right after high school. I got a job at the local building supply company and Denise worked as a teller at the bank. We even started our family. We had a little boy and a little girl, Jack and Jill. Denise always had a sense of humor."

The last, he says as an aside. His voice trails off and I am afraid he won't finish. I am wondering if I will ever meet these children. I wonder if they feel as close to their father as I do. I wonder, too, why he has never mentioned Denise to me or introduced me. Does he not like me enough to let me meet her? My questions dissipate as he continues. His voice is now sad and halted as if he is trying not to cry.

"Of course. Something changed. Denise was not a small town girl, and after a while, as much as I didn't want to accept it, I had to face it. The longer we were married, the more distant she seemed. And the day I caught her dancing flames across the floor, I realized that she had never wanted the same things from our marriage that I did. She was actually setting fire to the carpet with her fingertips. The kids were already bundled up in the car out front, but as I came in the back door, I didn't see that.

"The only thing I saw was the woman I loved setting fire to our house. She gave me no explanation. She just turned and walked out the front door, leaving the fire burning on the carpet as if there were nothing in the house worth saving, even me.

"Such indifference shocked me. I was convinced that our babies, my children, were still in the house and she intended to leave them there to burn. I raced up the stairs to find their rooms empty. The fire had already begun licking at the carpet on the stairs, blocking my descent. I climbed out of the bedroom window and onto the roof. I was just in time not only to avoid being roasted alive, but also to see my wife driving away with our children in the back of her car. At least I knew they were safe, well, as safe as they could be with her.

"I turned to look at the flames eating the windowsill behind me. Then I glanced into the window of the room I shared with my wife. The fire was burning in it as well, but a circle of the bed did not catch fire. Through the smoke I could see something dark like oil staining the center of the bed. The flames encircled it but would not burn it and I could feel the heat washing back from the house.

"I leaped from the roof and must have hit my head on something because the next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital. My father was looking down at me with dark concerned eyes. I asked him about Denise and he told me she had died in the fire. No one would believe me that she had driven away.

"They held a funeral for her and our children, but I wouldn't go. I couldn't go back to my house. My wife was gone. My friends and family didn't believe me. Everything I had cherished so much had been ripped out of my life. I didn't understand it. I somehow found myself in the city, looking for any way to fight whatever had stolen my life from me.

"In the city, it is much easier to find Decay than Knowledge. I was lucky, though, I somehow caught the attention of the Superdudes, and after proving myself, was invited to help them defend the innocent, like Bellabooo."

Here he stops again. He stands up now and paces the porch. His footsteps are sure and even as he walks back and forth across the porch. No one breaks the silence to offer him consolation. I am sure both of my parents are expressing concern more with their features than words could ever express.

"Sometimes when I am with her, I think Bellabooo is my daughter. When the dragon attacked her, I thought watching her die would kill me. It is the only thing that gave me the strength to fight it off. Watching her in pain does the same thing to me. It kills me, not as surely as a knife blade, but slowly. I feel so old. I feel so old. I don't even know if I will be able to keep fighting."

The silence grows longer. I shiver as a cool breeze washes over me, but I feel as if his words are burning into me like a premonition of loss.