CHAPTER 12
“My superpower...” I repeated, a note of derision in my voice.
“Yes Barry, your superpower,” she asserted, “We all have them, to some extent. Most people just choose not to develop them is all. Like I said before, its not all laser vision and flying and stuff like that. Its about taking our normal abilities to their maximum potential. It takes a lot of dedication, but more than that, it takes belief. That's the part most people have a problem with. Believing.”
“You don't seem to have that problem.”
“It wasn't always like that. It took me a while to recognize the truth. My mom says I lack direction, but that really isn't true anymore. I spent years going through my 'phases'... becoming obsessed with some activity and getting as good as I could, then getting bored with it and moving on. For a long time I didn't know why. I thought it was a flaw, like Attention Deficit Disorder or something. Then I realized, I was in training. My whole life I've been in training for this job, I just didn't know it.”
“So that is your superpower, then... learning things quickly.”
“That's part of it. It runs deeper though. You saw it in action that night at the bar.”
My memory drifted back to that night. “The, manager. He thought you were staff.”
“Yup. That sort of thing happens to me all the time. It started when I was a teenager. I would be in the hardware store and some stranger would walk up to me and start asking me where stuff was, like I was working there. Same thing in the grocery store. My Dad was the first to really put it together. He joked that my superhero name would be I-Work-Here Girl.”
“And you really consider that a superpower?” I asked.
“Hey, it's more powerful than you might expect,” she assured me, “It got me the lair after all. I mean, I basically just walked into the courthouse and started asking questions. Oh I made some effort to look the part, but still, it should not have been that easy to unravel the conspiracy. People just accepted me. They talked to me like I was just some new employee. Heck, they nearly talked my ear off, and I didn't even use a magic lasso.”
“But is that really a superpower?” I asked, “It could just be how you carry yourself... you know, confident, like you're supposed to be there.”
“How does that make it not a superpower?” she answered. “I never said there was anything supernatural about it. I suspect many undercover cops and government spies have the same ability. Most people don't call it a superpower, but that doesn't mean it isn't one.”
I didn't know quite how to respond to that. There was a sort of logic to it, though it was definitely stretching the definition of superpower. It left a very blurry line between a superpower and just being good at something. My thoughts raced in circles until coming back around to an earlier point of our conversation.
“So... empathy... that is a superpower?” I asked.
“It can be,” she answered confidently, “if you allow it to be. It's no small thing, being able to empathize. You might be surprised at how many people aren't good at it. But when you really empathize, really put yourself into someone else's shoes, it can give you deep insight into their motivations... into the truth of a situation. That can be extremely powerful.”
“And you think I have that.”
“More than most, yes,” she assured me, “and I think you can develop it. It's why I need you on the team, Barry. I'm really good at being accepted by people but not really at connecting with them. I have empathy in an abstract sense but not always in a really individual sense.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” I answered.
“Oh I'm no sociopath, but it is a weak spot for me. I tend to hold myself at a distance from people, even the ones I consider friends.”
“You don't feel so distant to me.”
“I'm making an effort with you, Barry, because I need to. I need someone I trust. Someone like you. I've found purpose, but I don't think that always translates into direction. I need a compass. I need someone with empathy.”
“And evidently today you needed a boyfriend,” I quipped.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Dee apologized, “My mom has been all over me about coming out of my shell and having a real social life. I've been worried she plans to fix me up with the son of a friend of hers. Thanks for helping me stop that in its tracks.”
“Um, anytime, I guess.” Strangely, I felt both a bit relieved and mildly disappointed at the explanation. “So if I'm not your boyfriend, what am I exactly? Your sidekick?”
Dee smiled. “Maybe you're my Alfred,” she answered.
“What, you mean Batman's butler? I'm not sure I like the sound of that.”
“Alfred was much more than Bruce Wayne's butler. He was a confidant, a mentor, a moral compass... Well, at least if you read the right stories. Maybe you prefer Jarvis.”
“I don't see being compared to Iron Man's robot as much better,” I responded.
“He wasn't a robot in the original comics,” she said as she rolled her eyes, “I really need to lend you my collection. It's obvious your literary knowledge has some major gaps in it.”
“How about I just be your friend, and we leave it at that.”
Dee reached over and squeezed my hand. “It's a good start,” she said, “and speaking of starts, we should probably get started on this room. I want to get back to the lair before Katie and Sebastian turn it into a skate park.”
* * *