TITAN
Consequences

Tim felt like he had traveled back in time. He sat in a stiff, plastic chair outside the dean of students’ office. He had spent much of his high school years in a place just like this. He got into fights all the time. Now, he was waiting to hear what Eric had done. It couldn’t be worse than what he did to Dan Kucharniak.

Tim had left class to use the bathroom and when he returned, Dan had been in his seat. Normally, it wouldn’t have mattered as much, but Tim had shop during the lunch period and liked his seat because he could slip out fast at the bell. Tim didn’t just attack Dan from the get-go. He asked Dan to get out of his chair. Dan was dismissive. “You snooze, you lose, Steele.”

Tim grabbed Dan by the back of his neck and dragged him out of the seat. Tim dropped him on the floor, on his tailbone. Dan screamed like a girl and couldn’t sit straight for weeks. When the shop teacher, Mr. Brokoli (or “Broccoli” as the students called him), got back and saw Dan lying on the floor cursing and screaming at Tim, he sent Tim to the assistant principal. Tim had gotten out of it with just a detention. It’s not like he had beaten Dan up and taken his lunch money.

However, when Tim got the call at work to see Mr. Gibson at Eric’s school because Eric had hurt another student, he was surprised. Eric never got in fights. He didn’t have it in him. Eric had always been bright and funny. In Tim’s neighborhood, you fought to project strength. You did it to survive. He learned to fight to survive beyond the neighborhood, too, but that’s where it started. Tim wished Eric was more aggressive.

There had been kids who picked on Eric when they first moved into the neighborhood. Tim wished Eric had just punched them in their noses, but instead he just took it. Eric didn’t have a mean bone in his body. Tim wasn’t sure if he pitied or envied him for that.

But Eric was grown up and now he was different. He couldn’t just get into fights with citizens. Eric could kill someone with only a fraction of his strength and he still wasn’t in control of himself. That only made him more dangerous. Eric could stab someone with a metal spike from his armor by accident. Tim hadn’t thought it was necessary to explain this to Eric since he had always been so benign.

The door beside Tim opened and Mr. Gibson leaned out. “Hey, Tim, howya doin’?”

Tim stood and shook his hand. “I’m alright, Steve. Suppose I’ve been better. What’s this about?”

Mr. Gibson nodded with a smile. “Well, c’mon in my office and we can talk about it. Eric will meet us.”

Tim followed Mr. Gibson into the office and sat in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. He noticed that Mr. Gibson’s office was more than a little untidy. The desk was a mess of papers and books. The filing cabinets overflowed and there were boxes of files on the floor beside them. Tim felt a wave of claustrophobia as he settled into the chair.

“Sorry about the mess, Tim. As the disciplinarian around here, I don’t quite have enough space for all the incidents I have to track. A lot of amateur lawyers for parents here.”

“Ha, you don’t have to tell me… Besides, little Timmy Steele woulda been in here all the time,” Tim said. They both chuckled. “But Eric… this is unusual for him. Are you sure there isn’t some misunderstanding?”

Mr. Gibson leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped in front of him. A more serious tone crept into his voice. “Yeah. I don’t think he’s been in here ‘cept for once or twice, but this is a little more serious.”

“Can you tell me what happened? Eric didn’t say anything and he usually talks to us,” Tim said.

“I got a call from Fred Calloway, Simon Calloway’s dad. He told me that Simon’s got a broken arm and a hell of a knot on the back of his head. Simon told him that Eric jumped him.”

Tim tried not to laugh. Maybe Eric got into a fight, but whatever he did, he didn’t jump anyone. “And you believe that?”

Mr. Gibson leaned on his desk, sympathetic. “No. I’m not Eric’s pop, like you, but I think I know the boy. He wouldn’t do that. ButSimon does have a fractured arm and a knock on the head. They faxed over a doctor’s report with some pictures. And Simon says Eric did it. This is a situation where I have to speak with all the particulars since there could be legal action. Simon’s folks are, well…” He rubbed his thumb and fingers together.

“You look like you have other doubts,” Tim said.

Mr. Gibson smiled. “I’m a military man, Tim, like you. I know you’ve been in the Air Force. I once saw a five-foot-two private mop the floor with this big five-foot-eleven son of a bitch. Well, this Calloway kid, he’s a big boy, too. Not just tall, but he plays football. You know the type. And Eric, well, he’s got a lotta heart. I’ve seen that much on the hockey team, but I just can’t see Eric messing this kid up like this unless he hit him with something. This leads me back to the idea of Simon getting ‘jumped,’ which I don’t believe. So, I’m confused is all.”

Tim hoped Eric hadn’t been settling some old grudge. Tim hated bullies as much as the next guy, but with Titan’s strength, Eric could put a fist through someone’s skull. Tim knew better than anyone how destructive Titan’s anger could be. What worried him most was that this was bringing attention on them they didn’t need.

“If you’re so unsure, what am I doing here?” Tim asked.

“I just want to ask Eric what happened and I figure that if you are here, he’ll feel more comfortable. He’ll talk to me,” Mr. Gibson said. “I’ve never had a problem with Eric, myself, though Dr. Rivers has it out bad for him on the whole shaving thing.”

For the past two years, a physics teacher at the academy had been on the lookout for Eric in the halls to catch him unshaven. It was dress code policy at the academy to be clean-shaven, with no facial hair. In Eric’s case, he wasn’t shaving all of the time because it ripped up his face. When he tried to do it, for fear of getting detention, his cheeks and neck would be pocked with red bumps and cuts. Tim had called Mr. Gibson over that one. He wasn’t one of those parents who would stand by their kid even if they had clubbed babies, but Tim thought that if Eric was mutilating himself for fear of getting in trouble with some old man, then he needed to speak up. Back then, as now, Mr. Gibson was friendly and accommodating. Dr. Rivers had a school-wide reputation as a hard-ass and plenty of parents complained about him. Only a handful of those calls were legitimately innocent students getting a rub job by the cranky old bastard, but Eric had been one. Mr. Gibson told Tim that Eric had to shave as often as he could and he’d handle anything else that came from Dr. Rivers’ direction.

“This isn’t the kind of thing I should call a lawyer about is it, Steve?” There was a hint of threat in Tim’s voice, but if Mr. Gibson heard it he didn’t let on.

“The legal action I mentioned would be coming from the Calloways. If Eric tells the truth here and I don’t have a problem with any of it, you got yourself a pretty damn good character witness in case they do decide to move against you. In any event, at least from the school’s perspective, I have to find out what happened to protect ourselves from Simon’s parents,” Mr. Gibson said. He talked frank like he was Tim’s old college buddy.

“Well, okay then,” Tim began. “I’m sure Eric will tell you the truth. And I’m pretty confident that this Calloway kid, whoever he is, started whatever happened.”

“I’m betting you’re right on both accounts.”

There was a faint knock at the door that signaled Eric’s arrival. Mr. Gibson called out for him to come in, so Eric crept into the room. He eyed his dad with barely masked surprise.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Eric,” Mr. Gibson gestured to the chair beside Tim. Eric sat straight and attentive. “Okay, Eric, your dad and I were just talking about why I called you down here. I was wondering if you could let me in on what went on between you and Simon Calloway yesterday.”

Eric explained. Throughout the story, Tim watched Eric like only a parent can. He saw through his son and could pick out every part of the story embellished or neglected. Tim sensed a few as Eric described the fight, but he didn’t let on that he doubted what his son was saying.

There was an uncomfortable silence following Eric’s story. Mr. Gibson seemed to consider it. Tim watched Eric before settling his gaze on Mr. Gibson and shrugging with his palms up. “Well?”

“Eric, I don’t doubt that Simon started the actual fight, but you said you blocked his punches… I, uh, well, son, Simon’s a big guy. I don’t know I see that happening the way you say,” Mr. Gibson said.

“He is a pretty big guy,” Eric said. “But he was having a hard time getting at me ‘cause I’m so low to the ground. He seemed off balance.”

“What about Simon’s arm?” Mr. Gibson asked. “How’d it get broken?”

“I don’t know. Maybe when he slipped. He acted like it was hurt before that, though,” Eric said. The lies came easier.

“And you’ve got no marks on you?” Mr. Gibson asked, though it didn’t sound like a question. “None at all.”

“My arm hurts where he hit me, but other than that…” Eric said.

“You said this happened in the middle of the hallway… so people saw you, then?” Mr. Gibson continued.

“Yeah, a lot of people. I could name a few, but I was really more focused on the giant trying to hit me,” Eric said.

Mr. Gibson took out a pad of sticky notes. “I’ll tell you what, Eric. I believe you. Calloway’s got a bad attitude and he’s big and clumsy. What you say probably happened. I just need to be sure about it. So can I have a few of those names?” Eric rattled off a few, leaving out Drew.

“That all?” Mr. Gibson asked.

“All I can remember. You can ask the people I mentioned. It was crowded,” Eric said.

Mr. Gibson pushed up out of his seat. “Okay, Eric, Mr. Steele, thanks for coming. I’m sorry to pull you out of class and you out of work.” He circled around his desk to the door and opened it for Tim and Eric. “Try and stay clear of Simon Calloway alright? Leave hallway management to me.”

“Yes, sir,” Eric said as he walked out, his dad trailing on his heels.

Tim and Mr. Gibson shook hands. “Thanks, Steve. Sorry for the trouble.”

Eric and Tim walked out of Mr. Gibson’s sight. Tim slapped Eric on the back of his head.

“Um, ow!” Eric spun and Tim shushed him.

“Are you nuts?” Tim’s tried to whisper, but it didn’t work. “You can’t use Titan to settle old grudges. You can barely use it without falling over. And third, doing shit like this in public exposes you.” Tim tapped Eric’s temple with his pointer finger. “You have to be smarter than this, kid. The Simon Calloways of the world are worth exactly shit. He’s gonna grow up and work in the kitty litter factory. Let that be your revenge. Don’t beat the shit out of him in front of everyone and make them wonder: ‘Gee, how’d the shrimp beat the hell out of the big football player?’ Those are questions you don’t need asked. I mean, Jesus, Eric… isn’t there enough going on?”

Eric didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. He didn’t have to start something with Simon. He didn’t start the fight, but he set it in motion. He wanted to put Simon in his place. The guilt of liking what he had done convinced him that it had been a mistake. There’s a rule that professional boxers can’t just get into fights because their skills make them a deadly weapon like a gun or knife. Eric realized that’s what he was now. He was worse because he still wasn’t sure about his capabilities.

“Sorry, Dad.”

Tim sighed. “Look, kid, I’m just worried. You just have to be careful. That’s all.”

Eric nodded. “I will be. I just… I don’t know what it was. I feel like I might have done it because I knew he’d try to hit me and I could say I defended myself.”

Tim smiled. “I guess that’s the difference between you and me, kid. I used to fight so much before I was your age that I knew if I fought some Regular Joe with my strength I’d kill ‘em. And I did. Let’s just get some more experience under your belt before you go getting into any more fights. You could have impaled that kid with a spike.”

“I can make spikes?”

“You can make all kinds of things. It takes a little while to learn how to extend yourself and shape them. At first, for me at least, my swords were bare bones… a blade with a handle. Your grandfather could make a whip and a shield and could make some really intricate swords.”

I remember that… Eric mused.

Tim went on. “Let’s work on wearing the suit before we head into more complicated territory,” They reached the door and went out of the office and into the hall.

“Okay, Dad, I have to go try and catch the end of English,” Eric said. “Thanks for coming down. Can we try to practice tonight?”

“Yeah.”

Eric disappeared up a flight of stairs. Tim found his way back out to the parking lot. He thought about why he had been called down to the school and felt bittersweet emotion crawl up into the back of his throat. Eric was a young man who would be going to college in the fall. With all of the others pressures and threats surrounding them, Tim was thankful for one last opportunity to be a normal parent. He didn’t expect many more opportunities.

* * *

For the next week and a half, things were about as normal as they could be. Eric went to school, did his work, and finished up his annotated bibliography on time. By the time of his date with Rose the following Friday, the first day of April, Eric hadn’t learned his grade yet. He expected nothing less than a B+, however. He didn’t need to stay away from Simon Calloway because Simon stayed away on his own. Simon talked a lot of shit about Eric behind his back, but word had spread about what happened. The fact that he tattled was widely known, too. Eric couldn’t care less what Simon thought. It was becoming clearer and clearer to him that he was meant for bigger things.

After school, Tim took Eric back out to the vacant field where Eric had changed into Titan. With each passing day, Eric was able to transform more efficiently. He was even figuring out how to weave the Titan threads into clothing, but they never stayed together and were always gray.

The connection to the Source was stronger every time he slipped into Titan, but now that he expected it, he could focus away from it. Eric figured out that it was like driving and focusing on the road, but still being aware of the other cars on the street and the people alongside. They could be distracting if he didn’t focus on the road. His enhanced perception would overwhelm him if he didn’t concentrate “on the road.”

Eric’s ability to maneuver also improved. His limbs felt so light that he could not judge his coordination like he used to. It was akin to switching from a Honda Civic to a Lamborghini; they were both cars and had the same mechanics, but a Civic required timing and planning whereas with a Lamborghini you could simply think about where you wanted to go and the car put you there.

Tim made Eric concentrate on how movement in the suit felt. It helped him judge how fast or slow he needed to do a given thing like walk, run, or jump. In many ways, Eric felt like he was learning to walk all over again. He didn’t remember what it had been like the first time, but it couldn’t have been as frustrating as it was now. He felt stupid for having so much difficulty with what he thought were simple things, but after a week, he began to feel more natural in the Titan suit and in his skin.

Tim experienced confusing emotions. He felt pride, but he didn’t want this for Eric. Tim had done it because it was his destiny. You do what you are supposed to do. Art trained him to be a warrior against evil. Tim failed. He didn’t understand why his powers had left him, though he had suspicions. He felt the touch of Evil and knew its cold but inviting draw.

But Eric grew up in the shadow of his sister, who needed so much attention, thinking only of bettering himself and pleasing his parents. Now he was Titan. In his heart of hearts, Tim wanted to tell Eric never to use it. To keep it inside and live his life like he’d never heard of Titan. Maybe it would go away. Maybe Eric would be left alone and his friends and family would be safe.

Of course, Tim knew better. Titan survived because it was needed. God or fate was telling them that Titan must exist. It is important. Tim feared whatever it was that could be so bad that Titan must face it. The rules had been rewritten so that Titan could survive. As Tim watched Eric run through his exercises—running, jumping, controlling his movements, and pulling their truck behind him as he ran—he grasped at the place that used to be in him to see if an answer was there. He didn’t find anything but fear.

There was something dark ahead. Tim knew that. Some small piece of Titan was still inside him. It was broken, but it was there. It told him that whoever took Jim and was trying to steal Titan was just a tendril of a bigger threat. Tim knew that whatever it was it had been around a long time.

Eric stopped. “How do I make things? Like swords.”

“We’re almost done, so I guess it couldn’t hurt to try something more complicated,” Tim said. “Think about moving your arm and how that feels. Shaping objects from Titan’s metal is to think of it like another limb. Move it like you’d move your arm,” Tim motioned with his arm.

Eric held out his right arm. He wiggled his fingers. Nothing.

Tim continued. “And once you’ve got something out, try to flex it and move it like you would a finger. Figuring out how to do that will be the beginning of ‘shaping.’”

“Okay,” Eric said while looking down at his hand and watching his palm start to puff. Suddenly, a three-foot-long beam—uneven, crooked, and rounded at the tip—extended out from Eric’s palm.

Tim jerked back. “Whew… you’re ahead of the game, kid. The hard part’s just doing it because once you do, you can feel how it feels.”

“Yeah, I do.” The beam smoothed out. The tip was still rounded, but now it was straight. “I can’t control it like I think I can. I feel it and can understand what you mean by the ‘limb’ thing. But I’m having a hard time judging how I can affect it. It’s like I can see the fingers on my hand and I want to move my index finger, but my ring finger keeps wiggling.”

Tim patted Eric on the back. “That’s okay. You’re doing good on your first try. I couldn’t make anything for months. You’re a natural.”

“I can’t retract it,” Eric said, waving his arm. The beam went down a few inches, but it remained sticking out of Eric’s hand like a spear.

“Lose the suit,” Tim said. “Stay calm and just slip out of Titan.”

The metal suit faded back into Eric’s skin revealing his face again and his clothes underneath. The bar didn’t retract with it, however. Instead, it fell off of Eric’s hand as the metallic threads retreated into his pores. It landed with all the weight and subtlety of rebar.

Tim picked it up feeling the weight of the thing. “You can control what it’s made out of as well as the shape and size. It doesn’t have to be pure iron and lead.” Tim dropped it.

“Give me some credit. I just created a giant arm boner.” Eric stooped down to pick it up. He lifted it like it was Styrofoam. “I’ll hold onto this until I can figure out how to put it back. I don’t want to run out.”

They headed toward the car, which was dirty from all the dust that picked up as Eric ran with it behind him like a man pulling a chariot. “You don’t run out. Titan is like blood; it replenishes itself.”

“It never runs out?” Eric asked.

“I wouldn’t try making a car frame, but yeah,” Tim said. “And the more you have, the faster it comes back.”

They climbed into the car. Eric laid the bar in the back seat. “Dad, how do you know what to do? The newspapers don’t exactly report monster attacks.”

Tim keyed the ignition and pulled the truck around. He guided the truck with one hand and gestured with his other as he spoke. “Supernatural events are in the news all the time, but most people don’t want to see them. But there are clues.”

Tim shifted into the left lane. He looked around at all the cars and then at the sky, aflame with orange light from the setting sun, and thought about this strange moment. He was driving up Route 1 talking to his son about fighting demons and monsters. “The sense you’ve felt. How you just knew Jim was in trouble. What you experienced when you first put the suit on. I never felt it as strongly as you, but it will guide you. I used to read the paper or see or hear something and it would raise the hair on my neck. My bones would tremble. You will just know. I don’t know if it’s God speaking to you or just kind of pointing you in the right direction, but whatever it is, I’d listen.”

“It’s so strong, Dad. I don’t just see it or hear it, I feel it like it’s inside me. This terrible cold feeling is there… like… like… I dunno. It’s cold like I’ve never felt. There are other things, but that cold… the dark I feel… that comes strongest.”

Tim frowned. For him, the sense had been more like an intuition, but Eric seemed to be jacked into it directly. Tim had a dial-up and Eric had fiber optic connection. It worried him to think that Eric was so close to the Source. “The only thing I can say for sure is that, like your training with the suit, it will take practice to focus what you sense. You probably can’t block it, but you’ll learn how to control what you feel through it.” Tim had no experience with the sense that strong. Eric would have to learn on his own.

* * *

Despite all of the evil, Titan training, and school work, Rose was still foremost on his mind. He had only been on one first date in his life. Despite his suspicion that Rose liked him, Eric was scared. He wanted to be with her. Her attitude, presence, voice… it all appealed to Eric in some fundamental way he didn’t understand as a red-blooded eighteen year old. Dating Rose was a risk. If he screwed it up, he might not ever see her again.

Making matters worse, Eric’s sense had been strengthening. It was echoing in his bones even when he wasn’t wearing Titan. A pervasive sense of dread that began like low humidity had become a thick fog choking his senses. Either Eric wasn’t skilled enough to understand it yet or it was simply ambiguous. Whatever the signal, Eric knew it was coming soon. The feeling was with him everywhere. His dreams had lost some of the vivid quality they had right after his transformation, but they were thick with presence. He woke up every morning as if from a coma and gave thanks that he hadn’t had the Sarah dream again. That awful image continued to haunt him, but he hadn’t returned to the dark room in person. He supposed that his awakening Titan power was protecting him, but that was a guess.

Making matters worse, Tim and Nancy were on edge. Tim had seemed mostly calm when he was called into the school, but at home both he and Nancy were tense. Nancy checked the windows every five minutes and Tim listened in on the ear-piece transmitter several times a day. When he did hear something, he could not make sense of the garbled messages; it was likely encrypted. He also kept a gun out on the nightstand. Eric hadn’t known his father even owned a gun.

They expected jack-booted thugs to storm in at any moment. “Why are we living like this?” Eric asked. “Why not just run?”

“This is my home,” Tim said. “We ran once. It’s not easy and you carry more with you than your bags.”

Nancy jumped at shadows. After years without Sarah and finally coming to some sense of normalcy with the loss, Nancy’s old tendencies resumed. She slept more. She ate less. She smoked more. Eric couldn’t stand it before, but she was like a chimney now. Her eyes were dark with sleepless rings. It was like the talk she’d had with Eric after the hospital sapped the last of her strength. She was a woman living on autopilot. It pained Eric to see it, but he hoped that she would pull out of it like she did last time. Tim, if he had noticed, seemed to ignore it. His only concern had been to get Eric ready. Neither he nor Eric knew for what they were getting ready, but the impending threat was getting closer without either of them understanding how they knew it.

On the eve of his date with Rose, Eric settled into his room before bed. He was nervous, but he couldn’t forget about Jim. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. Eric wished he could tell Jim about Rose. They had always joked about how only jerks got really hot girls. If they wanted a pretty girl they needed to be assholes. All of the guys they knew with girlfriends treated them like shit, so that must be the way to treat women. Back then, college seemed like an oasis in the future when all the dull-headed high school girls would magically realize that the guys they had been attracted to for so long were idiots.

Eric wondered if Jim was still alive. And if so, had Jim been thinking about Eric? Maybe to escape the horrors of what was happening to him, he could retreat into his memories. It was silly to think that two people could share the same memories at the same time, but then again, Eric had thought people with superpowers were fictional until recently. Eric realized that he missed his friend. He almost wished he knew that Jim was dead so he could move on.

Eric picked up the “book” and felt its familiar warmth. He laid it back down flat in front of his keyboard. Fear flashed through Eric. It was the book somehow messaging him or intuiting meaning through to him. He got a sense of himself in the Titan suit and the familiar sensation of evil—dark and cold. Without realizing it, he whispered: “Be Titan.” And again: “Be Titan.”

God shows us what we need to see and whispers what we need to hear. It was Art’s voice. Was it a memory or something else?

Eric yanked his hand away. He stared at the book for some time without making a sound. He had been holding his breath. He finally exhaled and then greedily drew in air.

What the hell was that? Eric repeated the words, “Be Titan…”

What does that mean? I am Titan… He was going to touch the book again but thought better of it. He left it, seemingly benign, sitting on the desk in front of the computer. He lay down on his bed, stealing glances at the book, trying to fall asleep.

Be Titan. Be Titan. I felt afraid… there was fear there…

Eric lay in bed for a long time before sleep came. When it did, it was light and he woke often. There wasn’t much rest that night. Eric wouldn’t get much rest the next night either or for many nights after that.

* * *

Eric should not have gone to school on Friday. His mind was with Rose, gazing into her eyes drawing her to kiss him. He worried about what he should wear for the date. Should he bring flowers? Should dinner be expensive or casual? Should he clean his car? The minutiae of the school day held no interest.

Drew chided him at lunch. “Where are you taking her?”

“Old town, I think,” Eric said as he played with the pasta he bought for lunch.

“Ahhhh, the ‘Alexandria Special,’ huh?” Drew said. “Are you bringing any, you know, protection?”

Drew had sex when he was sixteen or he said that he did. He hadn’t shared all the details, but Eric was more inclined to believe him than not because it wasn’t worth bragging about. The girl looked like a cross between Porky Pig and Rodney Dangerfield. Even so, the word “condom” was like a dirty word around the academy. Quite silly, really, but that’s what a lifetime of private Catholic school will do to you.

“Like a gun?” Eric said. The topic made him uncomfortable. He didn’t know Rose well and he’d never had sex. Hell, he hadn’t even done some of the peripheral activities.

Melanie was a prude when it came to him, but she’d gotten plenty far. Just the thought of Melanie filled him with that old familiar feeling which haunted him. But what would he do if Rose wanted to fool around Ron Jeremy style? It’d be a short porn movie, that’s what. “Do you think I need some? Melanie was a stick in the mud, I didn’t think of it.”

“I think she’s been around,” Drew said. “But you never know. So if you need some, I have some in my car. We’ll get you all set up.”

“Thanks.” Eric felt guilty for mistrusting Drew before. He was a good buddy and exactly the kind of guy that you wanted to have around in times like these. Eric started to think he was bipolar; he couldn’t make up his mind on Drew. He was leaning toward the former at this juncture. “I read it’s bad to keep them in a hot place. It makes them break or something.”

“Normally, yeah, but it’s spring now. They’re fine. Besides, you just wanna be prepared. Maybe she has some. That’d be hot,” Drew said with a grin.

“That’d be nice,” Eric said. Though, he hesitated. It was bad enough trying to dress for this thing let alone worry about his sexual technique.

…she’s hot, though… think of all those times Melanie got you up and around. You wanted to bend her over the nearest chair and make her scream your name… Rose would…

Eric shook off the thought and realized he was flushed. Not a good sign. If he could barely contain himself thinking about it, during the actual event, if it occurred, he would be a disappointment. Great. A new wrinkle in an already complicated situation. He considered jerking off beforehand just in case, but that would have to be an “if there’s time” kind of thing. This whole date was quickly becoming more trouble than it seemed worth.

No… Rose is beautiful and you like her. And she probably likes you, too.

Eric had all but forgotten about what happened with the book the previous night. There was so much going on in his head that he couldn’t keep any one thing in focus for long.

That would change.

* * *

Drew gave Eric a couple condoms after school. The packages stated they were for “her pleasure,” which Eric thought was good. Although he hadn’t had much experience with sex, he had always been a “giver.” He supposed if the guys on the hockey team had ever heard him say such a thing, they’d say, “Yeah, you give it to men in the ass.”

Regardless, for all the shit that went down with Melanie, she could never say that he hadn’t treated her right in that regard. He probably gave Melanie her first orgasm. Eric had read that a woman’s orgasm was as psychological as it was physical. So sayith Cosmo.

Eric showered as soon as he got home. It was getting hot and Eric’s cotton uniform shirt had been sticking to his back since third period. He considered the possibility that he was just nervous, but he wanted his natural, good smelling man musk back. He wanted to be done fast so he could get to Rose’s place early. She gave him directions, but he wanted to look it up online to make sure he found it. Eric liked to be punctual. He’d already met Rose and made a good first impression, but this was no time to stop working the magic. He wanted to know what it was like to kiss Rose Foote. He was laying the groundwork.

In Old Town, walking was the name of the game. He needed to dress comfortably for that, but try to look good too. He had a pair of dressy jeans that fit the bill. The temperature might drop into the mid-fifties or so after dark, but after a cold winter it would feel nice; he’d go without a jacket. He had a few button down shirts that would be comfortable and warm that looked good. He picked one.

Eric had read that for a first date an Italian restaurant is a mistake since most of the food is full of garlic, peppers, and other breath-ruining delights. If you were in the hunt for a kiss that was a no-no. But Eric was a picky eater and there was a great Italian place near the waterfront that had tables right by the windows that were good for people watching. They could comment on the pedestrians if conversation started to dry up. He hoped it wouldn’t, but planning was important. Eric thought he could make Rose laugh. His dad always said, “If you can make girls laugh, Son, you’ll do alright.”

Eric made reservations at Ristorante Tutta for a quarter past seven so they could have some time to walk the nearby dock and enjoy the good weather. After dinner, if they didn’t eat the restaurant’s dessert, Eric planned on going to a “mom and pop” place down the street for ice cream. After that, who knew?

Although Eric wanted to get Rose horizontal, there was something special about Rose and he didn’t just want to feel her up. He wanted it to mean something. The part of him shaped by his peers told him that was lame, but the real part of him wanted to fall in love with Rose and have her fall in love with him. Something told him that Rose could heal the wound in his chest. At the very least, she could stop the bleeding.

His car was clean and he bought an air freshener with a leather smell. He deliberated between new car smell and leather, but in the end, Eric liked leather more. He owned five leather coats. He wasn’t a 1950s greaser; he just liked the look of them. The feel. The smell.

The trip to Rose’s house was tense. Evening traffic normally didn’t die down until about six thirty and on Fridays it lasted a little longer. Eric left at 5:20 p.m., which he thought would be plenty of time to navigate the traffic and find Rose’s house. A knot of butterflies swarmed in his stomach, adding to his nerves created by the D.C.-area traffic. By the time Eric saw a third car fly across three lanes left to right, he was ready to change into Titan and hurl the offending car into the Potomac. He ignored the urge. Unfortunately, the route to the Falls Church area from his house carried him close to I-395 where all manners of congested hell broke loose every day between four and six in the evening. Eventually, with map in hand and his eyes nervously fixed on the road, Eric stopped at the end of Rose’s street close to 5:50 p.m. It took him thirty minutes when it should have only taken him ten.

Rose’s address, 929 Aitken Street, was ahead on the left. Eric wished that he could just will Rose into the car. Knocking on the door was the hardest part—standing in the middle of the neighborhood, exposed. Rose’s parents could watch him from the moment he got out of the car all the way up to their front walk. He’d probably have to meet them and try to look at Rose without letting his eyes drop below her neckline. Maybe he could just not look at her. The mom was almost always invariably nice and the dad… well, there were two kinds of dads: The first kind greets you warmly and jokes you up, then tries to be your friend. The other kind looks at you and remembers what he was thinking when he was your age. His eyes narrow as he realizes that he was picturing his date naked and fantasizing about what her breasts might feel like. He shakes your hand and wants to rip your arm off at the shoulder.

At 5:57 p.m., with all of his fears quieted as much as they were going to be, Eric got the nerve to drive up to Rose’s house. It was a quiet, suburban home with two floors and beautiful flowers edging the house all around. They didn’t have a backyard fence, so Eric could see one edge of a lavish garden with rose bushes, tulips, gardenias, and other colorful flowers he didn’t know the names for in back. It looked well maintained and Eric feared that it was Rose’s father’s garden. If it was, Eric might as well have chopped his own penis off right then. The highly organized male gardener is the kind of guy who looks at every male friend of their daughter like a potential rapist.

Fortunately, Eric had gotten some flowers from a florist across the street from his neighborhood. He liked hyacinths because of their vibrant bluish-violet color. Most guys would bring roses or maybe lilies; Eric wanted to be different.

It was a gorgeous evening. The sky transitioned from brilliant blue to fiery ocher hanging low over the horizon with silky pink ribbons wrapping around cirrus clouds and trailing off into the distant sun. The colors illuminated the neighborhood in an almost fake, unnatural glow. Eric felt unreal walking up to Rose’s door. It was almost as if the light made the neighborhood look like a movie set. His thoughts died away when he rapped on the door. He began to wonder if he knocked too hard when the door flung open and he saw Rose standing behind the glass screen door.

She looked incredible. Her hair curled at the tips and was brilliant red in the light. She wore a pair of hip-hugging jeans that, with the cut of her shirt, exposed about an inch of her tummy and lower back. Her blouse was button down, white, and the top three buttons were undone. The wonders of bra technology had brought her breasts up and together. Eric wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have stared at Rose with his mouth hung open for a good twenty seconds.

“Hi. Ready?” Rose said.

“Oh yeah.”

Rose closed the door behind her as she stepped out, moving close to Eric. He could smell perfume that might simply have been Rose’s shampoo. Whatever it was, it smelled like citrus. He realized the flowers were still clutched behind his back.

“Oh! These are yours.” Eric brought the hyacinths around and held them out for her. The motion reminded him of a time when he was a little boy of about four years old and his dad gave him flowers to give to his mom on Mothers’ Day. He presented the flowers to his mom in that same “I’m-not-sure-of-a-less-stiff-way-to-do-this” kind of pose.

Rose’s face broke out in the sweetest smile, made all the more brilliant by the unique light. The face of an angel… Eric wanted to kiss her. He wanted to wrap his fingers up in her full, flowing hair and bring his lips to hers, tasting how sweet she was—Eric knew that she was sweet without needing to kiss her.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you so much. Would it be okay to take them with us?” Rose asked.

“Of course. They’re yours now.” Rose accepted them and her fingers brushed Eric’s.

“My mom and dad wanted to meet you, but that’s always weird, so I’d rather just go,” Rose said.

Eric made a “whew” motion with his hand and laughed. “You just made my night. I’m nervous enough.”

“Thanks. You look very handsome. Definitely better than your work clothes,” she giggled.

“You, ah… you look very nice too.” Eric emphasized “nice” and she knew that he thought she was fucking hot. He would never have said it that way, but he was glad she got the message.

“C’mon, let’s leave before someone notices.” Rose looped her arm inside Eric’s and they walked to his car. She tightened the loop and felt his muscles press against her arm. She didn’t let on, but her cheeks broke out in a blush.

To be wrapped up in those strong arms…

He broke away and raced ahead to open her door. Then he quickly ran around to the driver’s side once he closed her in. He looked like a goon the whole time. Eric was reeling Rose in and she was reeling him in, and neither of them knew it.

* * *

Old Town was a frenzy of people like it always was on Friday nights. Couples were everywhere—old, young, fat, skinny. Everyone was out on the waterfront with their sweetheart. Laughing, kissing, touching, and having a good time.

Everyone except Jim McNulty.

No, Jim wasn’t doing any of those things. But he was smiling. This was the first time he had been outside his room in what they had told him was two weeks. He couldn’t believe that he had healed so quickly from the procedure.

So THAT’s what those injections were for…

The Shadow Man hadn’t told him very much about what they did to him. What he did say was that Jim had been given an advanced serum based off of Eric’s power. Jim was, in effect, “Titan+.”

“We’ve dubbed this particular project ‘Bone,’” the Shadow Man said with pride. “It was the breakthrough that led us to your… treatment. We learned that the Titan material resides in the host’s bone marrow. How do you like that, Jim? Bone.” That terrible grin widened on the Shadow Man’s face and even though Jim felt strong enough to rip his nameless head off his neck, Jim still feared him. That creepy, self-confident smile was ever present. The bastard always seemed to know something funny that no one else did.

Bone.

It was simple. It seemed right. He had been stripped to the bone. His bones felt like they were made of rebar. At first, his bones had baked in the heat of agony and they still didn’t feel quite like his own, but… yeah… Bone. As in what he was going to break inside of Eric. Lots of them.

The Shadow Man also told Jim about Eric’s new friend, Roselyn Foote. Apparently, while Jim had been captured and tortured by the enemy, Eric was dating. How nice for him. Melanie was a cold bitch, but Jim now thought what she had done to Eric seemed fucking hi-larious—even though she was a prissy, mean-spirited cooze that had looked down on Jim from day one. Jim doubted he would, but if he ever came across Melanie again, he’d rip her arms off. That’d teach her. If he got the chance, he’d do the same to Rose. But first things first.

Jim had been ready to bring Eric in for the sake of little Beth before, but now that he knew his old buddy was out carousing around town instead of trying to help him, he had extra motivation. To think he had actually tried to help this guy. And for what?Some turn-coat son of a bitch who would kill his best friend’s family to hide his secrets!

Do you really believe that?

Jim had heard and seen enough about Eric and his family lately to rethink some of his earlier beliefs. He and Eric had been friends for close to fifteen years. But where was he now, huh? He was out with some whore instead of looking for good ol’ Jim—whose baby sister was locked in a dilapidated plane hangar and surrounded by thugs.

But that was okay.

Eric would see Jim soon enough.

Jim always liked cheesecake. Yeah, cheesecake with chocolate shavings. Come to think of it, Ristorante Tutto made a mean cheesecake. Well, wasn’t that convenient?

Eric would find Jim just before the dessert course. He wouldn’t even need to look.

* * *

Eric and Rose talked on the way to Old Town. Rose told him that she played soccer and coached her two little sisters. Although he didn’t say so aloud, Eric wondered how hard Rose could hip check someone else with her gorgeously curved hips.

Eric just listened. Like most of his ideas about dating, Eric had read somewhere that on the first date the guy should just listen a lot, ask questions, and let the girl direct the conversation. He didn’t want to leave Rose hanging so he participated more than the article had probably intended. Rose wanted to know more about his writing and hockey, but on the topic of hockey Eric laughed and said, “It’s not worth mentioning.”

Eric parked on a little-used side street that wound away from King Street to the north. It wasn’t tourist season yet so most of the people here were locals and the little back street wasn’t as empty as it usually was.

As Eric walked alongside Rose to the restaurant, he tried to gauge a comfortable distance between them. He wasn’t a “leave-room-for-the-Holy-Spirit” kind of guy, but he didn’t want Rose to be uncomfortable. And with the way she looked, Eric started to think Rose was out of his league. But if she didn’t notice, he wasn’t going to point it out.

The sky’s unique color faded into a periwinkle backdrop dotted with islands of rose-colored clouds, still catching the sun’s glare from beneath the horizon. Old Town, with its cobblestone streets and traditional brick architecture, was eerily quiet. There was still plenty of noise, but the color quality provided by the dimly lit sky hushed the mood. It was romantic.

Rose looked at Eric and smiled before looking at the ground in front of her footfalls. Eric felt silly. Did she read my thoughts? Before these past few weeks, Eric might have laughed that off as ridiculous, but not now. He genuinely wondered.

“Is this it?” Rose asked, gesturing to an old wood sign hanging off an iron pole beside an aged brick exterior. It read: “Ristorante Tutto.” The small square windows flickered with candlelight.

“Yeah, have you been here before?” Eric asked.

“Actually, I have, but I think it’s great. It’s very sweet.” Rose lifted her eyes to meet Eric’s. For another fleeting nanosecond, Eric sensed that same feeling from the ice rink like if they held the look for only a second longer they’d leap at each other with adolescent lust. They did look away, though, and Eric guided Rose through the door of the restaurant.

Inside, a short, stout Hispanic host greeted them. He placed them at the window and they were placed right in the center of the wide glass opening onto the street. They could see everything coming from both sides of the street.

Once the host left them with their menus and some warm bread, Eric leaned across the table so Rose could hear him and whispered, “I don’t mean to be racist, but doesn’t it ruin the authenticity of the Italian restaurant when your host isn’t ‘Tony’ or ‘Gino,’ but ‘Javier?’”

Rose snorted a giggle. “Maybe a little.”

Eric took a breath and reached across the table; he covered Rose’s hand with his and said, “I think so too.”

Her cheeks flashed a fiery shade of red and she smiled deeply. Her hand wiggled onto its back and their fingers intertwined. Eric’s thumb gently brushed the side of her palm in round, stroking motions. They looked at each other in the fading sunlight, with the orange glow of the candle flickering on their faces, and it wasn’t lust in their expressions this time. No, it was something deeper. Eric felt like that something inside of him—the piece of him that twisted and grumbled every time Melanie looked at him—suddenly awakened, unfrozen and rejuvenated. It felt like a physical reaction happening in his chest. Now Eric laughed like Rose, for real.

“What’s funny?” she asked.

He smiled at her. “I can feel my heart beating.”

“Is that a line? Are you messing with me?”

Eric’s face lit up in the flare of a grin. “Yeah. I am.”

He lied.

* * *

Rose asked a few questions about Sarah: What was she like? How tall was she? What was his favorite memory of her? But the one question Eric hadn’t expected was the one that came in the middle of their main course as Eric was chewing. Eric had ordered a chicken penne dish with a cream wine sauce and Rose had ordered tortellini with shrimp and crab meat.

“What happened with your old girlfriend, Melanie?”

Eric almost choked. He coughed and finally managed to swallow. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Rose shook her head. “If it’s too personal, I understand. I feel silly, actually. They say you’re never supposed to ask about ex’s.”

“No, no… I, uh, I guess I didn’t expect that question. Um, how do you even know about Melanie?”

“Drew told Constance about her and mentioned your break up. It sounded bad. I feel dumb for asking, but I guess I was curious,” Rose said. She looked down into her plate for solace.

Eric wiped his lips and cleared his throat. He touched Rose’s hand and made her look up again. “If you want to know, I’ll tell you. I guess I’m just afraid that once you hear about it you won’t like me very much.”

“I doubt that,” Rose gave him a smirk.

“Well…” He touched Rose’s hand and a circuit connected. Eric shared the story.

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