“Liberty and Race? Only thing there is that fish place.”
“Yeah, Alabama…anyone tries to anything there you’ll kick his ass, right?”
“You like that place?”
“Whenever I can get it, which isn’t often.”
“Maybe we can swing by there tomorrow, on one condition…maybe two conditions.”
“Conditions?”
“I think I have a couple. First, watch your mouth. And two, I don’t hire anyone without an education. Did you finish high school?”
“Well…”
“I figured as much. You’re going to get your GED. You can’t work for me without it, deal?”
“Okay dude…deal.”
“Good, we start work on that tomorrow…and maybe you can help me pick out one of those Bluetooth things.”
“Tomorrow? Look at your watch. It’s almost morning.”
“Isn’t that what these heroes do, stay up all night?”
“Not always.”
“You’re the one who’s the expert, and I’m the one who ended up with these powers…isn’t that rather rich?”
“Maybe. This ain’t like the comics. You know, all the heroes are young guys with six-pack abs, not old dudes with a beer gut and no hair.”
“Hey, I still got hair.”
“Yeah, you got three of them and two are waving goodbye to the other. You might not need a costume. People see you walking down the street they’ll never mistake you for Superman.”
“You know we can’t use that name, right?”
“You see anyone else walking around can do what you can do?”
“No, but there’s a matter of the guy in the books with the tights on, and some trademark on the name. I can fly, but I’m still half broke.”
“We gotta call you something.”
“My mama gave me a name when I was born. It’s served well enough.”
“You can’t just go by Walter.”
“Why not?”
“That’s not a hero name.”
“Next thing, you’ll be designing a costume. Look at me. This isn’t the body for tights.”
“Hey…you know what I just noticed?”
“What, kid?”
“Those the same clothes you’ve had on since we went to eat, right?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
“When you were running, you trashed your sneakers, but you fly all the way to Africa and back and your clothes are still good. How fast were you going?”
“Pretty fast…that is weird. You would think my clothes would have gotten torn up or something.”
“But when you got shot at Shell, there were holes in your shirt. I think your powers are still increasing, or something. It’s like your clothes get it from your body. Man, I don’t know how to explain it. Does that make any sense?”
“Maybe, kid. This is all so different. A couple days ago, this kind of thing only existed in comic books, now look at me.”
“And who would have thought it would happen in Cincinnati? You had to figure we’d get a superhero before we’d get a Super Bowl.”
“Yeah, kid, you’re funny. One of these years they’re gonna do it.”
“This year if they signed you.”
“You know that wouldn’t be right.”
“What wouldn’t be right?”
“It would hardly be that sporting.”
“You’re probably right, but it would be cool. Like playing Madden on easy level.”
“On to other things. Your GED. In the morning, you’re gonna get online. There are places you can study for the test.”
“I could pass that thing right now.”
“You’re not taking any chances. When’s the last time you were in school?”
“Uh…last year.”
“Exactly. You think everything’s fresh?”
“I ain’t no dummy.”
“No, you’re not, but you forget things. Study up and we’ll see about scheduling the test.”
“You seem pretty stuck on me taking that test.”
“You should be too. You seem like a good kid. I don’t see you with any drugs. You got a good heart, and you got a lot of life ahead of you. You ever think what you might want to do with it?”
“Last couple years, I just been thinking about the next meal and how not to get rained on.”
“Now that we have those things out of the way, you can start focusing on more long-term goals. Get your GED, maybe go to college if you want. Get a good job. Hell, the sky’s the limit.”
“Man, you’re about to give me the whole American dream speech, aren’t you? You can do whatever you want to do, yada yada. Look at me. I’m just some poor black street kid.”
“That’s what you were, but it doesn’t have to be who you are. You can be better than that. You can be better than half these dumb college kids who drink themselves silly and keep me awake half the night.”
“And look at you. What have you done all these years? Sit in this apartment and drink yourself silly and complain about the college kids?”
“What have I done? I worked my ass off for thirty years to provide for my family. I held my wife until she couldn’t cry any longer after two miscarriages. Then I held my son and worked like a dog providing for both of them…and I stood by her side and was her rock when that son came back from Iraq in a body bag. I spent my savings and everything from the sale of our house on her cancer treatments…and for what? I buried her ten years ago, and I retired last year. I’ve run my race. I’ve earned a couple beers and the right to gripe about the kids. When you’ve done all that, let me know.”
Franklin stared at the floor, and then looked around the room, looking everywhere except to Walter.
“Chin up, son,” Walter said, “I don’t care what color you are or if you’ve been on the streets. This is America, and that used to count for something. I happen to think it still does. You get your act together and you can do whatever you want. Just don’t sell yourself short. Now, did I drink all those beers?”
“It would appear so. You want a Coke?”
“Sure kid, and bring yourself one too if you want.”
Franklin retrieved two Cokes from the kitchen, handed one to Walter, and sat down, grabbing the TV remote.
“Not much on this time of night,
