Journal selections from the Journal of Melody Sanderson aka Enigma
Journal log day AA 275 : I have to write something so I miss vacuuming. I miss being able to just push the vacuum through the wall, through the chairs. So easy. Sweeping was a delight. Cleaning is such a chore now. Ryan will laugh at me when he gets back. I won’t care. I miss him.
Journal log day AA 355: Toby admitted that some days he hates me. But he also loves me. I don’t know what to do, what to tell him to make him feel better. I hate me too.
Journal log day AA 493: I don’t know why I’m keeping this. One of my teammates said in time I’d write more than a sentence. I haven’t yet. This sucks. I don’t want to write about anything. They suggest writing about my life here. What LIFE? My world is gone. Bleah!!
*Journal log day AA 784: * Okay, it’s been a while since I wrote in this thing. I think I can write something more than a sentence.
First, I haven’t given up hope yet. I mean, we were supers. Ryan was. . .I mean is. I have to believe he’s alive. He is a super. As much as any us are now anyway.
If he’s alive. I’m sure he isn’t. No one could have survived what happened. What I did. I guess I did. No, what I did. Toby saw it. The whole goddamned world saw it before everything failed. Everyone but me. I saw, but I don’t remember. Still doesn’t help that ever so often I see Toby looking at me. He knows Ryan is gone. The great and magnificent Falcon. Brought down by Enigma. By the one he trusted with his life, his son’s life. Brought down by me, his partner, his wife. Slammed from the air into a rock hard ocean with every camera nearby filming the whole thing. For my son to watch in real time living color.
I never have. Not a damn video, not a damn picture. I wouldn’t if I could.
I don’t remember it but even if I wanted to pretend it was someone else, it’s there in the mind’s eye of everyone who was watching tv, Twittering, TALK-ing, texting, chatting. . . every media outlets showing the heroes go insane that day. I had torn off my mask in the madness. No more secret identity for evil me.
So many questions afterwards: It was me, wasn’t it? How could you do that Mel? How could you not remember? So you were Enigma? Wow! Never guessed. How is Toby handling it? Where is Toby? My few remaining neighbors knew to ask about Toby. Good neighbors. One of the many things Ryan and I had adored about the city; the lovely neighborhoods. The neighbors hadn’t been appreciative when I had screamed at them that I needed to know where he was. Yeah, well I didn’t have time for twenty questions. Did I give a damn that some neighborhoods had burnt down in the craziness? No. Was it my house? Then get the hell outta the way so I can go home. Mr Pelalucas was dead a few days later as was Rebecca Holmes. I miss them. I would have come back to answer as much as I could for them once I found my boy. It was an easy answer. I didn’t and don’t still know a damn thing as to why this happened.
Our house was still standing and I did find Toby. He had holed up in the house. Toby’s a smart boy. Our house was reinforced, had a safe room. Never knew when a badie would try to take him. But he had food and water, had good neighbors while they lasted and then had their food and water when they didn’t. I think he’s forgiven me. Or at least believes I wasn’t in control that day. I hope. He’s all I have left of Ryan.
He’s getting older now. A teen. He may change his mind about me, about that day. He did see it after all. Can you learn to hate your mother even when. . .well, yes, it was my fault. I just don’t remember. None of the team does. Is it cruel that in the meanest part of my soul, I secretly hope it was one of them? But it wasn’t. Enough people told me it wasn’t. Enough female groupies tried to scratch and beat me before everyone got too sick or were too busy trying to survive to care. I had killed their hero. Couldn’t blame them. Ryan was a star. I loved him too.
Took forever to get back after all the chaos. Cars littering the roads, sick people begging for help everywhere. Hell the dead where everywhere. I stole a Jeep. Last of my evil deeds. Least of my evil deeds. Ryan wasn’t my last kill that year. I had to get back. Had to find Toby. Explain. Beg forgiveness. I didn’t care about the world. Yeah, I didn’t. I had to get to Toby. I would have crawled back to St Louis to find him if that’s all I could have done. Our son.
I’m not so sure about myself anymore. I’m keeping it together for Toby. For god’s sake, I was Melody Sanderson, president of the mother freaking PTA. . .I can hold it together in this mess that’s left of the world. I don’t cry myself to sleep anymore. But at least the sheets don’t smell like Ryan anymore. I kept our sheets when we moved to the Castle, kept the pictures, kept some of Ryan’s things. He’ll want them when he gets back. I think I say that more for Toby than for hope. I remind him that superheroes in the comics come back and the Falcon was a superhero. He’s just resting under the waters. Re-cooperating. For two years. He’ll be better than ever and we’ll have found the cause of the plague, the reason for all this death and the loss of our powers. The Falcon is just resting.
I don’t even have a body for us. Just a memory for our son and a deep betrayal of the two men I loved more than life. Yeah, I can handle this. If someone reads this journal, they’ll see how well I’m faking it.