Alter Ego Is Worn Out

Alter Ego attempts scrambling eggs. On his first try, he melts the pan with his heat vision. For his second try, he watches a YouTube video, learns how to melt butter on the stove, and does it the human way. The eggs come out runny but serviceable. She always cooked him breakfast. He’d repeatedly vowed to make her breakfast in bed, but, in his defense, working with Earth food made him anxious; he was worried about poisoning her. The Planet Z food of his childhood came in instant cubes. And then she left him. For a chef. He hangs a Clint Eastwood Unforgiven poster over his couch, assembles the entertainment system for his TV, and does some laundry. He still needs to do something about a job—he turned in his notice at the office yesterday; she’s there. He’s done a lot today: he deserves a drink and a nap. He’ll fill these online applications tomorrow.

The guy in the apartment next door is cheating on his wife. Alter Ego can tell by the scents of the perfume and shampoo and sweat, the speed of their heartbeats; he wants to warn the guy it’s a mistake, but it’s none of his business

—❉—

Alter Ego’s date keeps checking her phone. He’s been asking her questions. He was exactly on time. He listens to her every word, even though he hears every conversation in the restaurant. The man in the corner is a violent loan shark. His date, he suspects, saw a guy at the bar with whom she has some unpleasant history. This is the point where he usually thinks, “I’d rather be at home.” To his knowledge, none of this shows on his face. He’s been practicing his human expressions.

Several blocks away, a boy just snatched a woman’s purse. But his date is his tailor’s sister who is also a recent divorcee—with a kid—who’s having trouble finding a date, and this is a favor. Discreet costume tailors are difficult to find.

—❉—

Cats are astoundingly difficult to locate. It was a mistake to adopt one. Alter Ego spends days, sometimes weeks, away, sometimes imprisoned in underground lairs or on missions in outer space. Why his cat prefers rodents and trash when he feeds it steak tartar and whole milk is baffling. Of all Earth’s creatures, he admires them: cats. They form bonds while remaining independent. He walks the nearby alleys, flies up the fire escapes. All the summer trash and strays mask the scent of his cat like a smoke bomb. If the creature’s happier out here, then let it go, he thinks. But what if it’s hurt, or hungry, or misses him, too?

In the park across the street, a girl is frantic over her kitten stuck on a tree limb. But the girl’s stepmother, with whom she has a strained relationship, is already out with a ladder. There’s a growing crowd of silent, breathless onlookers.

—❉—

In his therapist’s office, Alter Ego picks his words carefully. The League has a strict policy about therapy. Which is: “do none.” He’s so careful the session feels counterproductive. His ex he refers to as “his sister,” and the divorce as “cancer.” The therapist tells Alter Ego obvious things. She thinks he doesn’t realize the wedding photos to his right reflect the wall clock she’s counting down.

—❉—

“You’re distracted,” Alter Ego’s sidekick says, as they crouch on the rooftop. The kid smells like last night’s cologne, all the perfumes that rubbed off on his neck, chest, back, and cling under his fingernails; he’s sweating whatever designer drug he took in the club’s bathroom. “Isn’t that your wife…ex-wife’s new place,” says his sidekick. It is. Alter Ego’d hoped the kid hadn’t caught on. At least there’s no strange car in the driveway. “You want to make sure she’s safe, right?” says the kid, burping mojito under his breath. “That’s cool of you. You should go talk to her. Should I go ask if she wants to talk to you?” Alter Ego shakes his head. After another silent hour, his sidekick says, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe, I’ll try going solo soon. If that’s okay, sir?”

Alter Ego flies up. Straight up. He lets the cold clear his head. He flies so high the Earth’s a gumball. He goes limp and prepares to fall, end over end like a coin. He’s getting a hang of this human thing. Wherever he lands, he’ll start over.