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“And she used to do dastardly deeds, quite awful stuff- if you ask me!”
“But necessary!”
“And when she was done raging on earth, she did something so brave-”
“And necessary-”
“Yes, necessary. She did something so brave that no one else dared to do- she sacrificed her humanity. She rose like the sun and scorched the golden man-”
Lisa Wilbourn raised both her hands up,
Taylor stiffened, looking down from her mug and into the stirring figure underneath alien bed sheets. She didn’t get the fascination with aliens, maybe because she faced things stranger in her past lives, but at least it was aliens and not capes. She turned on her side, relaxing a little as the story continued.
“How did she gain it back?”
“Gain what back?”
“Her humanity.”
Lisa glanced at her, and green met deep brown. It was times like this that Taylor was terrified of truth, but marrying someone who spent a lifetime using truth as a weapon had its perks. Nodding slowly to beckon her wife to continue, Taylor bit down at her tongue.
“Little by little.” Lisa answered. “She lost a lot, and some parts she never got back. But little by little, day by day, she did it. She’ll never be the same again, but that’s okay. She’s figuring it out.”
She wasn’t sure if the answer was satisfactory enough. Before all of this, Taylor was scared. She decided to seal her past away, to ignore the tidbits that might crawl in the future and pray that their child would never face the fate of a second generation cape. She hoped their child would never have to face the wrath of their past sins, that Gold Morning would never reach their orbit, that the world was kinder than powers in bottles and lockers in high schools.
They didn’t want kids at first. That was their deal; Taylor didn’t want to pass on her genes and Lisa was terrified of the prospect anyway. The first couple of years after they wed, they agreed to indulge in seeing others raise their children. They could be the distant aunts that knocked every once in a while, and that was enough for them. Then something switched somewhere along the way, and they decided to try. Trying in itself was terrifying, albeit not impossible. Lisa had Taylor and Taylor had Lisa. They’d agreed to keep their past away the first years of their child’s life, but as they grew older and Lisa’s fear of a trigger event grew larger, they went back on their decision.
They agreed on stories. Little by little, they fed them stories of their past. It wasn’t easy at first. Taylor tried explaining the little things, like bank robberies and meeting the Undersiders. Then the rest was scarier and Lisa stepped in. Taylor figured she could tell stories; her time with the Wards led to a handful of reading sessions in elementary schools. But Lisa was much better, with her animated gestures and the way she widened her green eyes and opened her mouth to ignite shock. Lisa was much better, with the way she changed expressions and handled delicate topics yet spoke so gently and fondly of their past. Lisa was better and Taylor was okay with that, choosing to sit next to her child instead as Lisa continued blabbering about their misadventures.
“That was Gold Morning?”
“Yes, it was.” Lisa smiled.
When their kid was older, they’d explain that the stories they spent nights repeating were always about them. They were Skitter and Tattletale, then Weaver and Tattletale, and finally Khepri and Tattletale. And maybe they’d process it, or maybe like Lisa hoped, they’d put two and two together on their own. They’d understand why they had such an isolated life, why their mother was without an arm, why Lisa was so scared. Why golden flashes were terrifying and why when cape news came on TV, they’d grow silent, Taylor leaning closer to Lisa as her breath hitched. They’d understand why they wed in a church of ghosts, why a butterfly greeted them every morning, why Lisa looked at them like they knew before they could say anything. It would be a hard life, something so new and terrifying.
They knew raising kids as capes would be hard. They thought of the Dallons, and they knew it would be hard.
This was fine, though.
Their kid had Taylor’s eyes but Lisa’s grin. Light freckles dusted their face as they pondered on the story, clutching their sheets with tiny fists.
“Does that make sense?” Taylor ventured. There was no easy way to talk about Khepri. Khepri was just someone who existed and Taylor came to terms with it a long time ago. Talking about Khepri was harder.
“A little.” They scrunched up their face- the same way Taylor did when she was deep in thought. It was odd, seeing someone so young and innocent with their features. They had her eyes and Lisa’s freckles and Taylor’s curls and Lisa’s blond strands and-
Lisa cut off her train of thoughts as she laughed. “It’s still confusing to this day. You’ll get it.” She reached out, rubbing her child’s back.
“But why did Tattletale stay with Khepri? I think I’m confused.”
They both stopped, Taylor frowning. It was a question that came to them once in a while.
“Because her eyes shined brighter than the moon.” Lisa finished. “And the stars and the sun.”
Their child grinned.
Taylor’s heart stopped. That wasn’t the full story; Memories of Lisa pleading with a bedridden Taylor came to mind. Lisa sobbing into her lap, as Taylor stared at the ceiling above. Lisa screaming for Taylor to get up, Taylor turning to the side. Lisa fed up, pulling Taylor up and dragging her out of the bed. Lisa with her head in her hands, Taylor with tear-stained cheeks.
But there were moments where hope peeked through the blinds. Lisa and Taylor dancing in the kitchen, Taylor limping while Lisa laughed and tried slowing down for her. Lisa and Taylor, watching the sunset with their fingers intertwined. Lisa and Taylor, writing the names of ghosts long past. Lisa and Taylor, Taylor and Lisa.
To Taylor, Lisa’s eyes shone brighter than the moon, the stars and the sun. So many stars, so little time. Taylor lost in bright green eyes, an anchor to bring her back from Khepri’s clutches.
“Can you tell me more stories?” They pleaded. “Please?”
Lisa glanced at Taylor. Taylor nodded.
“Hm, anything in particular? I think we’ve just about covered it.”
“When Skitter tried to betray the Undersiders!”
Lisa grinned. Taylor cringed.
“Out of necessity.”
“Yes, out of necessity, Skitter did a dastardly deed.” Their child laughed and settled back in bed as Lisa started, largely exaggerating events and dragging on things for the sake of making Tattletale look good.
Before Lisa could finish, their child yawned. They fell asleep sometime after, and Lisa and Taylor exchanged glances. They tucked them into bed, kissing their forehead and shutting the lights off. Taylor left a bug on the window, like she always did, just in case any monsters came creeping in at night for vengeance.
They were in the kitchen when Lisa spoke up.
“You know they’re getting it.”
“They’re only seven.”
“Well, they’re getting it.” Lisa paused. “As in, they’ll put two and two together soon.”
Taylor sighed.
“That’s good, right?”
Lisa said nothing. She turned off the sink, propping a dish onto the rack and drying her hands off.
“Look at us, Lisa and Taylor, being domestic.” She announced, blowing a strand of blond away.
“Raising a kid.”
“Raising a kid.” She repeated. “Who knew this is what we’d be doing.”
Taylor resisted a laugh. She looked down at her mug, stirring the same tea from before.
“You’re making yourself to be so much more-“
“Please, I had this city running scared.”
“We had this city running scared.” Taylor corrected, rolling her eyes. “It was a joint effort.”
“Dastardly deeds.” Lisa mused. “Had everyone scrambling. But hey, gave it up for this life.”
“This is a good life.” Taylor paused, absentmindedly. “This is a good life, right?”
Lisa smiled.
“It is a good life.”