The Invisible Girl

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The website included so much of what Tony remembered as a teen years ago, but the regrets still held sway as hard times left every comic book in some dusty bin in a comic book shop in the mall two towns over. All that remained were memories...


Rainbow Lakes, New Jersey, 1966...

Tony almost skipped to his bedroom after a reasonably manageable walk from the stationary store near where his grandmother lived. At 12 cents each, his comic book treasures were affordable even with only the spare change gleaned from around the house.

“How was school?” his mother Marie called from the kitchen. It was still fairly early, and with no homework for the weekend, he had plenty of time to read and even to draw. As much as he appreciated all the illustrators, one artist seemed to consistently capture the vulnerability of the female heroes and other women who resided between the covers of his comic books.

“Miss Johnson got a new car.” The aforementioned English Literature teacher was every boy’s dream. She taught about Chaucer and Shakespeare and all things British while sitting on her desk with her legs carefully crossed. The vision that stuck in his head was both confusing and comforting. Just like The Invisible Girl and Betty Brant and Marvel Girl, Miss Johnson evoked a longing that he would later realize was not uncommon with boys “like him.” He went back and forth almost every other day in that he could not decide if he was attracted to her or that he wanted to be her.

“Isn’t she getting married at the end of the school year?” His mom called out once again.

“Yeah,” Tony shouted back. Her boyfriend was a Recreation Department coach. Tony wondered for the longest time if he was attracted to the guy, but realized that wasn’t even a consideration. He would come to realize that he only liked girls, but was resigned to being alone because of the thoughts he harbored deep within.

“There’s a new sketch pad on your dresser and a new set of pencils.” Only one year away from going off to a liberal arts college, Tony hoped he would find his niche in comics illustration.

“You’re the best, Mom!” He said at last before closing his bedroom door. It wasn’t a need for privacy so much as a need for concentration. Marie called out anyway.

“Daddy has to work late, and Amelia is at Roseanne’s for a sleepover. I have my book club tonight, so you’re on your own. There’s some leftover lasagna in the fridge. Have a good evening, sweetie.” Marie called out once more and Tony was left to his own ‘devices,' as the saying goes.



“Well? “ he heard the voice in his head. He sighed and bit his lip.

“Oh, fuck!” He blushed even before the words escaped his lips. Susan didn’t talk like that. And Alicia would be horrified at the words. Tony walked to his closet and pulled out the garment bag hidden off to the side. As much as it took quarters and dimes and such to purchase the comics, the clothes took so much more. He raided his own savings account; confident that the balance would be made up over the next few months. Nobody asked him about his money, and his parents were generous enough to keep him well-stocked with art supplies as their investment in what everybody hoped would be a career in drawing for Marvel or DC.

“I’m ready,” the voice in his head spoke. He removed the clothing from the garment bag and in mere moments had transformed himself into his second favorite character in his favorite comic book.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” the voice asked.

He...she looked at herself in the mirror over her dresser. Not quite an authentic replica; she didn’t sew, which left the outfit somewhat incomplete without the iconic insignia. Nevertheless, it was still a reasonable facsimile; resplendent in Navy blue. Her dark blue stretch slacks matched the top, and a wide black elastic belt added to the illusion, She brushed out her longish light brown hair; wishing she could dye it blonde to match the woman she wished she was.

“Almost there,” the voice spoke in her ear. She reached into the back of the closet and retrieved the black, flat-heeled ankle boots her sister had grown tired of.

“I think Alicia would find you very pretty,” the voice said at last, but the suppressed laugh belied the words. Even though it was only her own self talking to her, she grew sad almost in a heartbeat,

“I’m sorry, Susan, but you just aren’t very real,” the voice said, but in an affected manner, as if she was speaking to herself in Alicia’s voice.

“Stop!” she pleaded with herself. She had hours to write and draw; safe from discovery as she hoped to finally get the story down on paper and the pictures as well. But even with time and privacy, she was overwhelmed with guilt.

“Alicia is blind, Susan. She can’t see you, but if she could, she’d be sickened by what she'd see!”

“Stop,” the girl pleaded with that cruel part of herself that condemned her for being a phony. Not a girl. Not a woman. Certainly not fantastic by any stretch of the imagination.

“I’m sorry, Susan, but face facts. You’re never going to be real to her!” The girl walked over and picked up a smaller sketchpad from her drawing table. The illustration was likely the best she had done, apart from pictures she did of classmates and such from her Drawing class.

She sighed and stared at the picture; two women holding each other’s outstretched hand. But instead of the superheroine and the pretty blind girl from the comic book, it was Tony as he saw himself...
herself...the only girl he ever wanted to be,

And the other girl in the picture wasn’t the daughter of a villain, though Tony would learn much later in life just how evil the girl’s father was. Instead, it was the pretty if plain Cindy Yarrow; the younger sister of a classmate. The same girl who sat with her friends on the bus ride home from their high school; oblivious to the boy who wanted to be loved as a girl by a girl. Tony tore the picture in two and fell into his bed; weeping...



Oakland New Jersey, the present...

“How is the book coming, babe?” Lisa called from the kitchen. Tony frowned weakly before saving the document.

Much better than I expected. You...you...”

“It’s okay, honey. She’s a big part of who you are.” Lisa walked in and hugged her husband from behind. This journey was halting at first, but lately, the pace had become brisker.

“I see you,” she said, reminding Tony of another character in some other story.

“I...” Tony shook his head. Lisa hugged Tony again.

“Read to me after dinner. You know I’m 'getting there' like my Nona used to say?” Tony nodded.

“Besides? You really don’t match your favorite girl at all.” Tony winced at what felt like a rebuke until Lisa kissed her husband lightly on the lips and said at last,

“You’ll never be invisible to me!”



Susan Storm and Alicia Masters are characters from the original comic book series, The Fantastic Four; created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby and are the property of Marvel Comics. Title artwork is adapted and considered fair-use.

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Comments

Excelsior!

We are True Believers!

“Let's lay it right on the line. Bigotry and racism are among the deadliest social ills plaguing the world today. But, unlike a team of costumed super-villains, they can’t be halted with a punch in the snoot, or a zap from a ray gun. The only way to destroy them is to expose them—to reveal them for the insidious evils they really are.” - Stan Lee

Jill

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Sweet, poignant ending

laika's picture

Invisibility might be a great superpower for introverts but everyone needs
at least one person who can see the real them.

I'm not a big Marvel fan but I did always like that the Fantastic 4
broke with superhero tradition by not having secret identities;
And I always did love Sue Storm, as much as I found her
self-promoting hothead brother just annoying. But anyway
a sweet entry into the Free Comics challenge;
~hugs, Veronica
.

(Mystery Science Theater 3000 presents the Fantastic 4 in:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eN0FoR_FlZg&t=190s )

That was wonderful!

Emma Anne Tate's picture

And just what I needed. Beautifully captured the child’s longing and self-doubt, but ended on such a sweet note. Thank-you!

Emma