Beacon of Hope



Chapter One

DISCLAIMER :: This fanfiction is based on Superman from DC Comics. All rights reserved. Art by CWBlaine on Deviant Art.
Author's note: Perhaps it is the start of a new collaborative universe or a standalone project for myself. I don't know, yet.

(( Chapter Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQOBUrRaPU0 ))

A soft, subtle “ding-dong” tone sounded throughout the cabin and my eyes instinctively looked slightly upward to be greeted by the illumination of the “Fasten Seatbelts” sign. It’s a good thing I relieved myself about twenty minutes ago. Following the command, I draped the belt over my lap and connected it just like the flight attendants showed us at the start of the flight. It fit well over my thin physique draped by dark blue slacks and a white button-up shirt. It was time for final approach.

Glancing out the window on my left, the wing of this particular aircraft was somewhere behind my seat but below was the grand expanse of Chicagoland. Home. It would be a lovely joke if I could say that I could see my house from here, but I seem to be on the wrong side of the plane for this approach. The weather is clear and winds seem to be blowing our direction as we’re coming in from Lake Michigan. I could probably see our old house in Oak Park if I squinted hard enough.

I have to make this conference trip every quarter or so. Sometimes, you have to schmooze the media and other firms when you’re the corporate communications specialist for a company so mid-level in the tech industry that nobody’s really heard of it. Most days, I loathe this job. On days where I actually get to rub elbows with some of my old colleagues that still work in the news media, it’s a better day. I only took this job because the Tribune went belly up and I got laid off back in 2015, right after my wife surprised me with her third pregnancy. I had to do something to keep the family afloat and we needed a bigger house for the kids. I did the right thing for my family, but the wrong thing for me. I just have to suck it up and deal with it because there’s no way I’m uprooting the lives of my wife and kids to New York, D.C., or L.A. just for my own ambitions.

Life wasn’t always this monotonous and filled with existential dread. At one time, I was a starry-eyed kid from Sheboygan, Wisconsin, watching Dan Rather and Peter Jennings carry on the legacy of Walter Cronkite. Part of me wished I’d been alive to see a Cronkite broadcast and I technically was but infants never remember things. When I learned the things Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein had done, I knew I wanted to be a journalist. After graduating high school, I went straight into college for journalism. During my senior year, I met the love of my life, Laura. We dated for a while as I got my career off the ground and she got through the rest of school then her residency. I’m a news man, she’s a healer; a registered nurse. The wedding was nice. Our first child was a bit of a surprise, but nothing we couldn’t handle.

Everything was coming along great. We planned to buy a house as our second child was coming into our lives. That three-bedroom in Oak Park was quite cozy. Then, simultaneously good news and bad news: Laura got pregnant again and I lost my job at the Chicago Tribune. I gave my all for twelve years to that newspaper and got a “thanks for all the fish” moment from the finance bros from New York as they knee-capped an institution that had been in operation for one hundred and sixty-eight years at the time. We needed a larger house and I needed a job so we could do it. So, I took this vampire of a corporate job for the sake of my family. It’s been sucking the life out of me for ten years, but it means Laura and the girls have a cozy, safe home and a decent standard of living.

The plane touched down and then taxied to the terminal while I wore my disappointed scowl. I don’t ever show this side to my kids. Laura knows I’m unhappy, but newspaper journalism is all but dead, anymore. She understands my convictions. I was taught that a man puts himself to the side and provides for his family. Is it healthy? I doubt it but I’ve never spoken with a therapist, so what do I know?

At the terminal, it’s the same old story: once the flight attendants announce that we’ve docked and are able to leave the plane, everybody stands up at once. I’ve done this enough times that I simply stay seated until there’s enough of a gap to accommodate me. It takes a few minutes, but once I see an opening I reach for my carry-on in the overhead bin and casually make my way off the plane. Some people get a little impatient with the process and start shouting or pushing at this stage. I’m not them. I merely blend into the crowd and don’t impose on anyone. I even move far to the side of the gangway to let the impatient ones pass by without objection.

Inside the terminal, there are reunions all around me. Whether it’s a return from vacation, college, or even military service, there’s always somebody waiting for one of the passengers on the flight. Nothing for me, though. It’s a routine business trip. Nothing to get all worked up about. Laura is probably still at the hospital working a shift and the girls would be getting home from school in about an hour. I simply drape my suit jacket over my forearm, adjust my glasses, and pull out my phone. Call me old fashioned, but I’d rather call a cab than hail an Uber on an app. Within moments, I’m on with a dispatcher who reserves me one of the drivers already parked outside the terminal and tells me the number on the cab I should look for. I thank her cordially, stick my phone back in my pocket, and make my way out of the terminal.

When my head comes back up, something on one of the television screens catches my eye. It’s tuned to one of the 24-hour news stations with the volume disabled and closed captions enabled. The bottom third chiron reads “Scientists Debate Mystery Stellar Energy Wave Headed For Earth”. There are two scientists sitting around a table with the behind-the-desk personality. My curiosity gets the better of me and I read the captions on the screen.

[Dr. Marquez: “This is unprecedented. We’ve never detected an energy signal like this before. We don’t currently know its origin or how it will affect us here on Earth.”]

The second scientist scoffs. [Dr. Pierce: “Oh, please, Isobel! There’s no need to frighten the public! We became scientists to study the unknown. We shouldn’t be afraid of it.”]

The first scientist pinches her nose bridge. [Dr. Marquez: “Alan, we need to be serious, here. People have the right to know the truth. We’ve been tracking this thing for several days and it will hit in mere minutes. We have to prepare for any contingency.]

The host finally steps in. [Host: “Are you saying this thing could wipe us out?”]

[Dr. Marquez: “We don’t know. It’s traveling too fast for intensive study. I would advise the people at home to at least hug their children.”]

The screen went black. Everything went black: all the televisions, all the lights, and even my eyes. I felt myself crumple to the ground and there were a couple screams that echoed as I lost consciousness.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It must have been only moments later that I regained consciousness. I found myself on the floor looking up at the ceiling tiles. My body felt rather heavy and my vision was blurred at first. My fall had apparently been cushioned by my carry-on luggage, at least for my upper body. Rolling over ever so slightly, I found my glasses and slipped them on. Now, my vision wasn’t blurry and I scanned the surroundings. Lights were on. Televisions were on. The only difference seemed to be a general unease the people around me seemed to wear on their faces. A lot of those faces were fixed on the television screens. My only concern was rolling over and getting out of this airport.

Upon standing, I pulled out my phone and checked the time. A few minutes had gone by since I’d seen the time on the screen during the broadcast. The cabbie would no doubt be waiting for me and I needed to get home to my family. Getting on the move was proving a little difficult. Everything felt strange. My body didn’t want to work correctly as if I’d suffered a stroke or something. On the way out to the exit, I called my wife.

It only took one ring for the other end to activate and my wife’s somewhat frantic voice to answer, “Chris?! Honey, tell me you’re okay!”

I lightly chuckled in response. “I’m fine, Laura. I’m a little sluggish, probably because I fell over a minute ago.”

“Fell over? Sluggish? What are you talking about?”

“I think there was an EMP blast or something. All the televisions and lights went off, then I fell over. I landed on my luggage, though, so I’m generally okay.”

“Chris, that wasn’t an EMP. It was that energy thing they’ve been talking about most of this week. Are you tasting metal? Dizzy? Nauseous?”

I mentally take stock of my condition as she asks her questions. “No, honey. None of that. No stroke for me.”

“How’s your heart rate?”

“I don’t feel anything out of the ordinary there, honey. I’m just… sluggish. My body feels heavy. I’m going to catch a cab and head home. One of us needs to check on the girls. You may be stuck at the hospital for a little while. I’ve got this.” I finally reached the exit doors and scanned the surroundings for the area where the cabs were congregating.

“Be careful, Chris. I’ll look you over when I get home.”

I smiled at her as if she was right in front of me. “Wouldn’t expect anything less, Laura. See you at home. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Chris.”

Spotting the yellow cabs, my eyes started to scan the numbers on them for the one the dispatcher gave me moments ago as I tapped to hang up the phone and slip it into my pocket. It takes more than a few moments to find the actual cab I was looking for. It’s the standard Toyota Prius painted roughly the same yellow as a school bus with the trademark black-checkered stripe down the side. A guy in his mid-30s stood beside it. He was a bit shorter than me; most people are since I grew to 6’2” in high school. His polo shirt and jeans combo did little to hide all the body hair on his arms and chest. He looked up at me.

“Kent? Christopher Kent?” The cabbie asked.

I smiled at him. “Yes, that’s me. Thanks for waiting like this. I know you’re a busy man and I’d hate for you to miss a fare that got you more than my ride.”

The man shrugged. “It’s fine, my friend. Where to, today?”

“Home. Arlington Heights.”

He smiles and nods as he moves to help with my bag. “Oh, nice spot, Mr. Kent. Got lucky with that one, I’d think.”

I slowly nodded as I climbed into the back seat. “You might say that. We bought before the pandemic when prices were a little better. It still wasn’t cheap, but our three girls were not going to be happy sharing a room in a three bedroom.”

He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the meter. “I’ve got two of my own. Some say you can have them in the same room, but I’d rather avoid World War III inside my own house.”

I laughed. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Being a girl dad is not for the faint of heart.”

My smile grew wider on my face. “No, it is not. Wouldn’t trade it for anything, though.”

“Me either.”

With that, we drove onward toward my address. We chatted a bit more about our kids. His girls were younger than mine, but that didn’t matter. He was smack dab in the fun stage when they try to do your hair and makeup. My youngest, Olivia, is in that stage. Just last week, she did my makeup to mixed reviews from the others. She’s only nine, so I imagine she’ll get better at it. His oldest is eight. They probably go to the same school.

I do take a few moments to give him a little advice. In a few short years, his girls will get to a point where they may seem like they hate him for a couple of years. Hannah, my oldest, did for a while. Madison, the middle child, did for a shorter amount of time. Laura always assured me they’d come around eventually, which they did. The rapid hormone fluctuations and the reality of menstruation can do a number on girls. Laura informed me that female puberty is just all around painful, which I relayed to my cabbie. After relaying a few anecdotal examples, we pulled up to the curb in front of the house Laura and I bought in 2017.

“...and above all, be there for them when they ask you to.” I reassured him with a tap on the shoulder.

He blinked rapidly for a moment. “Well, thanks, Mr. Kent. I knew I was in for it, but I didn’t know how bad. It’s good to know there’s a light at the end of that tunnel.”

“There always is, my friend.” I nodded to him as I took my carry-on out of the trunk. Grabbing out my phone, paying for the ride with a little extra tip was simply a tap away. “You have yourself a good day, now. Drive safe!”

The guy waved as he drove away and I turned toward my home. Like almost everything else in American Suburbia, it really wasn’t very special. Two above-ground floors with a finished basement down below. It had fake shutters and a brick facade. The two car garage held both mine and my wife’s car when we were both home. I kept the lawn looking nice enough without having any semblance of a green thumb. It was just a typical house built around the time I was born and looked like it was the star of some family sitcom back in the day. The outside didn’t matter to me as much as what was inside.

Slowly, I made my way to the front door and then through it. Alas, no one was home. Calling out would do no good. School would be in session for maybe the next hour and shifts are long at the hospital. Letting out a sigh, I trudged over to the living room and set myself on the couch. The cushion felt lovely beneath my body. My eyes shut fairly quickly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“DADDY!” Olivia’s shrill glee startled me awake.

My body rose to a seated position much faster than I would have liked. I turned to see a bouncing blur of blonde hair and orange sundress. She’d discarded her backpack near the door. The force she used to tackle me with a hug knocked a little wind out of me. Naturally, I reciprocated the hug.

“Well, hello, to you, too, sweetheart,” I chuckled.

Hannah and Madison nodded at me from the foyer in typical teenager fashion. “Hey, Dad,” they greeted in unison before heading to their rooms upstairs. I can’t blame them, much.

Hannah, our eldest at 18, had hair like mine: a deep chocolate brown with the slightest hint of a curl to it. Watching her grow into her 5’8” frame was truly a privilege. She’s always had a fierce independence, like her mother, and a love of sports even if she didn’t play on any teams at school. Madison, our middle child at 15, was blessed with auburn locks and a 5’6” frame. She was our creative type that dabbled in dance, theater, and played her electric guitar as often as she could get away with. Olivia, our youngest at 9, inexplicably has blonde locks with a bit more curl to them than even mine. Right now, her personality is changing by the day. I’m lucky if I can convince her to watch Bluey with me from time to time.

Olivia looked at me with those pretty green eyes her mother gave her. “Did you bring me anything, Daddy?”

With a small smile, I chuckle, “Not this time, Princess. It’s one of the places I’ve already been a few times and all the stuffies were pretty boring.”

Her entire body slumped in disappointment. “Dang it.”

“That’s what I said! I was really disappointed. I’m sorry, kiddo.”

She tried to grip me in a tighter hug. “It’s okay, Daddy. You tried.”

A tear forms in my eyes as I wrap my comparatively huge arms around her. “Of course I did, sweetheart. Anything for my girls.” We linger on the hug for a few moments. These are the moments I’ve always treasured. They’re gone so soon. She released the hug and I went back into parenting mode. “Okay, sweetie, why don’t you get your backpack upstairs and do your homework.”

She slumps again. “Homework?” she whines. “Do I have to?”

“Yes, ma’am, you do. C’mon. Chop-chop.”

I watched her move back toward the foyer in reluctant, dramatic fashion. It’s a skill preteens the world over have probably mastered. If nothing is said, then they’ll do as asked but they are certainly trying to get you to reconsider your request. There have been times in the past that I have faltered but after two other children who have tried this tactic I was on my A-game. Not feeling well was also helping.

As the girls settled in after school, I stayed on the couch. Remote in hand, I wanted to see what the world was saying about the current state of affairs. After being laid off, I lost all access to any of the apps or group chats people used in the business. Thus, I’d have to rely on them to find out what’s been going on. The challenge, anymore, was finding the truth. A lot of broadcast news sources just go for “dibs” and forget to actually do much journalism. My media literacy had always been fairly spot on, so I knew which channels to trust and which ones to not even glimpse at.

Settling on a channel that was usually quite truthful, I found myself in the midst of the broadcast about the events of the day. It would seem the “Stellar Energy Wave” from earlier at the airport is everywhere right now. There seems to be quite a bit of sensationalization about it. Getting to the truth of the matter took a few minutes. After sifting through the cross-talk, I was able to glean that some kind of energy wave or pulse had struck the Earth today. It knocked out a lot of electronic devices and lights. There had been more than a few car accidents as a result, but thankfully no plane crashes. Air traffic control had been set back about ninety seconds, which had caused massive delays for air travel all around the world. It’s speculated that supply chains have been affected, but no one knew by how much just yet. Worse, nobody had any idea what kind of energy passed through our little blue marble or what kind of long term effects will be felt.

All of it was giving me quite a headache. I sunk further into the couch and closed my eyes. Before long, I actually fell asleep. The sound of the newscast faded as I did so. No dreams came to me while my body lay there on the couch. No passage of time was perceived at all.

The next thing I felt was something impacting my face. My eyes struggled to open at first, but then another slap hit my face and they shot open. The first thing I saw was the worried face of my wife, Laura. Just behind her stood all three of our daughters with the same worried face. Confusion overtook me.

“Jesus, Christopher!” came the worried shrill from Laura. “I’m so glad you’re awake! I’ve been slapping you for five minutes!”

My voice emerged hoarse. “What? What’s going on?”

All three of my daughters breathed in relief. Meanwhile, my wife began taking my vitals like the seasoned nurse she is. “How are you feeling, honey?”

A sharp pain erupted in my head while a ring in my ears crescendoed like Madison had hit the highest note on her guitar and turned up the amp. “GAH! My head! My ears!” As my arms moved to cover my ears in a vain attempt to stop the ringing, the material of my shirt barely managed to slide over my sweat-drenched skin.

“Something is wrong, Chris. Very wrong! We may need to get you to the hospital! Your heart rate is up, you’ve got cold sweats, and your skin does not look right!” Laura frantically informed me.

After clamping shut with the sharp head pain and ringing ears, my eyes opened again, but something was very off. All I could see was some bluish tint to the world, the outlines of objects and the four people in the room, but the thing that got me the most was the fact I could actually see their skeletons. “WHAT THE HELL?!” As Laura moved closer, all I could see was a vague outline of her body and her skeleton, mostly her skull, move closer to my face. I shrieked.

I could clearly hear Madison whisper to Hannah as if she were whispering in my own ear. “When has dad ever used a swear word before?”

Then, Hannah seemed to be whispering in my other ear. “Never. This is freaky.”

When Laura spoke, it sounded like she was in a stadium at the microphone with thousands of speakers projecting her voice. “Tell me what’s going on, Christopher!”

I tried my hardest to move away from her… and found myself on the far side of the room in the blink of an eye. Turning back to my family, it was still the same blue world and skeletons. I couldn’t see the expressions on their faces. “All I see are skeletons…”

A pain erupted in my core that forced me onto hands and knees. All of my muscles spasmed at once and I felt a sense of vertigo. My entire body felt like it was radiating heat it shouldn’t be capable of. I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth. My hands and knees felt like they were moving along the floor for a moment. Simultaneously, my clothes felt like they were getting bigger by the second. As my muscles vibrated my body with their spasms, it seemed to jiggle like Jell-O. I even felt my throat constrict ever so slightly. Inexplicably, my shoes completely slipped off my feet. I could hear the gasps and stunned grunts from my family as they looked on. Something tickled my cheeks and the back of my neck as I breathed through whatever was happening.

After a few moments, the world became a lot more quiet and there were no more strange sensations. Breathing heavily, I opened my eyes. Mercifully, the world was back to normal. My hands looked very strange and the sleeve of my shirt was very loose. I struggled to stand, but finally managed to do so. My clothes, which had fit quite well moments ago, felt like they had grown several sizes. When I turned to look at my family, all their eyes were wide as dinner plates. There was awe, fright, and worry written into their expressions.

“What?” The voice coming out of me was not my own. It had said what I wanted to, my vocal chords vibrated, my lungs released air, and I could feel vibrations on my lips. However, gone was the gruff baritone. It was replaced by the light lilt of a teenage girl. My strange hands shot up to clasp over my mouth in disbelief.

“If I had not just watched it happen, there’s no way you could convince me THAT is my father.” Hannah stated plainly.

“Deadass.” Madison responded breathlessly.

Laura cautiously stood up. “Christopher?”

The voice of a teenage girl came out of me once again. “It’s me, honey. What happened?”

Tears began to stream down Olivia’s face. “Daddy?”

My heart broke. “I’m right here, Princess.” My attention turned back to my wife. “Laura, what happened to me?”

She looked me directly in the eyes. “We’re going to the hospital.”

Beacon of Hope



Chapter Two

DISCLAIMER :: This fanfiction is based on Superman from DC Comics. All rights reserved. Art by CWBlaine on Deviant Art.
Author's note: Perhaps it is the start of a new collaborative universe or a standalone project for myself. I don't know, yet.

(( Chapter Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_MlBCb9-m8 ))

The trip to the hospital was unsettlingly quiet and filled with tension. Laura insisted we take her vehicle and I was relegated to the passenger seat. The girls were in the back. A few times I glanced toward Olivia and she wouldn’t even look at me. A pit had formed in my stomach and a frog lodged itself in my throat. Many thoughts ran through my mind, none of them much intelligible. Sparks of emotion, really. Nobody said a word as my wife’s SUV weaved through the street grid toward her place of employment.

One thing I really noticed before we climbed into the car was that, beyond my clothes being uncomfortably loose, I wasn’t much taller than Laura or Hannah. At six-foot-two, I should be much taller than either my wife, who stands five-foot-nine, or my eldest daughter, who stands five-foot-eight. Walking to the car, it seemed I was roughly the same height as my wife and just a little taller than Hannah. There were other oddities such as: how my body felt, how it moved, and sensations in places there shouldn’t be any or where there should be. About a mile from the hospital, curiosity got the better of me and I flipped the sun visor down. Opening the lid on the vanity mirror, I caught my first glimpse at myself.

Wavy, dark chocolate hair draped from my head to just below my shoulders. There were no wrinkles on my face whatsoever. Overall, my skin seemed to have lightened a few shades and gained a youthful sheen. My eyes seemed to be a striking and vibrant shade of blue, which was close to how I remember them in my youth. My nose seemed smaller and my lips a little more plump. Examining myself, I tilted the mirror downward a bit more. My neck was as smooth as my wife’s or my daughters’. Looking a little further down, the mirror showed me two prominent fleshy mounds on my chest that could only be referred to as one thing. Startled, I closed the lid on the vanity mirror and flipped the sun visor back up.

“Honey, I have breasts…” I announced through quick breaths.

“Noticed that at the house, Chris.” Laura stated, keeping her eyes on the road.

“...and I look like a child.” I added.

“You look like me, Dad… except you… except like a girl.” Hannah stumbled through confirming.

Laura didn’t respond. She pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and prepared to leave the vehicle. “Enough stating the obvious, everyone. Let’s go.”

I could plainly tell that she was confused and frightened. We all filtered out of the car and toward the emergency department without another word. Olivia opted to hold Hannah’s hand rather than mine like she typically might. Deciding not to focus on it, I scanned our surroundings and found several ambulances near the entrance. It was perfectly clear this might be the case when I was watching the news at the house.

The headache came back. The crescendo was much faster than before. My hands flew to my head and I fell to my knees. In the next moment, a red filter applied itself to my vision as if it were a slow shutter until it closed in the middle. Panicked, I looked all around me. The moment my eyes fell on one of the concrete pillars outside the building, my eyeballs felt hot as if I had a fever. I watched as it seemed to be impacted by something. Adversely, my headache disappeared as I watched a localized blast impact the pillar like a large-calibur bullet. I quickly closed my eyes and held them shut, deducing that I must be causing the damage.

As I struggled to keep my eyes closed, Madison exclaimed, “Fucking LASER EYES?! What the shit, Dad?!”

“Madison! Watch your language!” My wife and I chorused in scolding her.

“Looked more like a red-orange phaser to me,” Hannah quipped.

The heat finally left my eyes and I opened them cautiously. With the world looking the same as it always does, I lowered my hands and turned to the others. “Let’s get inside and find out what’s going on.”

No one objected.

Through the doors, our first stop was the security station. The rent-a-cop behind the desk checked everyone in but me and gave them little identification stickers. Further in, we reached the registration desk. The person behind a computer looked up at us and saw me as the only one without a visitor sticker.

“What seems to be the issue, folks?” She asked.

I spoke up. “Something really strange happened to me and I need to get checked out.”

“Gonna have to give me more than that, sweetie. What happened?”

“Well…” I began.

Laura stepped forward. “Until about ten minutes ago, this person was my husband, Christopher Kent.”

Some of the nurses behind the counter looked over at us and one recognized my wife. “Laura? Didn’t you get off shift about half an hour ago?”

Laura nodded. “I did. Can we just get checked in so somebody can take a look at Chris and figure out what happened?”

The nurse pointed at me. “THAT is your husband? The teenager that’s a dead ringer for one of your kids?”

I got a little angry at this point and raised my voice. “Can we just can it and get me checked in, please?! This is weird enough without the scrutiny, thanks!” I took a quick breath to calm down. As I exhaled quickly, frost formed on the plexiglass dividing the waiting area from the staff area, a protective measure from the pandemic. “Christopher Kent. Date of birth: April 18, 1980.”

I could hear my daughters gasping in the background. Madison leaned over and whispered to Hannah thinking I couldn’t hear. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” She waited for a non-verbal response I couldn’t see. Once she got it, she responded, “It’s giving Superman.”

Rolling my eyes, I simply extended my arm awaiting the inevitable hospital bracelet. Laura finished relaying our address, my phone number, confirming herself as the emergency contact, and confirming our insurance information. Typical hospital things. Finally, I felt the bracelet being wrapped around then fastened to my arm. We turned and did our best to find a spot to sit together. It wasn’t easy with the number of patients around. It had been a weird day, so more than the usual amount of weird things happened that sent people to the hospital emergency room waiting area.

We sat there for HOURS while we waited. It was clear I wasn’t actually hurt, so I was definitely not a priority. That suited me just fine because it was definitely my feeling that the people actually hurting should be seen first. Comparatively, I’m just having a weird day. Hannah and Madison messed around on their phones. Laura had brought a tablet for Olivia. After a while, I stood up and started pacing.

The girls were all born over at Rush Oak Park Hospital about twenty miles from here. We don’t go to hospitals much. I was accustomed to the surroundings at ROPH. I was not as familiar with the interior of Northwest Community, where we had gone and Laura works. The difference in my surroundings was what was affecting me. Generally, everything is a little further away than it was at that time. The tops of doors seemed a little higher. The chairs seemed a little taller. It wasn’t just the comparative heights between myself and my family. It was such a slight difference. The only comparative concept is an “uncanny valley” in art or film: where a face looks almost human but our brains know it isn’t, subconsciously, so it looks weird to our conscious minds. That’s what I was feeling about the world around me: the uncanny valley.

At one point, I stopped to stare at a television screen while the news was on. It was one of the stations I know to be a little more loose with the truth, but I was looking for those kernels of truth. It was all still much the same. Nobody knows what exactly happened. Scientists are baffled. There have been some casualties and fatalities linked to car crashes all across the United States. No plane crashes but massive delays. The airlines have been delayed four to six hours, they speculate. The thing that caught my eye was isolated reports of people with certain… abilities. In the exact words of the commentator: powers like people in comic books or comic book movies. Could that be what’s happening to me?

I’ve read several comics in my day and seen a few movies on the big screen about superheroes. In 2025, who hasn’t? They’re fantasy, though. Some are science fiction, but that’s basically the same genre in a round about way. They’re not real. Like the gods, monsters, heroes, and villains from antiquity we study in literature classes, it’s all myth with a deeper meaning. They teach lessons as well as entertain people. The things they can do are larger than life. They were never meant for the real world.

On a whim, I returned to sitting with my family. Each of them looked bored, except for Laura who seemed to have the weight of the world behind her eyes. Olivia was slumped against her refusing to make eye contact with me. Letting out a sigh, I turned to the teenagers.

“What did you mean by ‘It’s giving Superman’, Madison?” I asked cordially. The pitch of my voice was still confounding me.

She leaned forward from behind her sister to look at me as we were all sitting in a line with Laura and Olivia opposite us. “You heard that?” She asked, an eyebrow raised.

I closed my eyes and took in a breath. “Yes, Madison, I heard you.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “There’s another one.”

“Another one what?”

Hannah scoffed. “Madi, don’t.”

Madison sneered at her sister. “He’s gonna figure it out eventually.” She then turned to me. “Okay, so… remember back at home when you said all you could see was skeletons? Did you mean that literally?”

That creepy image came back to my mind and my eyes widened in response. “Unfortunately, yes. There was this blue filter over my eyes. There were all kinds of outlines of the things in our house. I could see the electronic structure of the TV. When I looked at all of you, all I could see was the outlines of your bodies… and your skeletons.”

“So, x-ray vision.” Madison concluded. “Also, when you moved from the couch to the bay window, none of us saw you move. It was REALLY fast. Then, you shot these beams out of your eyes that took out a chunk of that pillar outside. When we got here, you frosted over the plastic spit barrier at the check-in desk. Just after that, you heard me whisper to Hannah.”

My brow furrowed at her. “What are you saying?”

“Your power set, Dad.” She counted on her fingers as she listed things off. “X-ray vision, super hearing, super speed, heat vision, and frost breath. If we find out you’re super strong, basically invulnerable, and you can fly, you’re basically Superman.”

Hannah joined in. “Normally, I’d call my sister an unhinged, cringe-worthy nerd but she’s got a point. Some weird stuff is going on today. Especially with you, Dad.”

Letting out a sigh, I allowed my head to fall while closing my eyes. “No kidding.” Taking a large breath, I continued. “The reason I asked is because I was watching the news on the TV over there. The desk anchor was reporting about some people actually having powers, like in the comic books or in the movies. Unsubstantiated, of course.”

“What’s ‘unsubstantiated’?” Hannah asked.

“In the news business, it means they’ve heard some rumors but haven’t been able to collect enough sources to report it as fact.” I rolled my eyes. “In the rush to be first to report on something, they’re forgetting to tell the irrefutable truth.”

Laura finally joined the conversation by rolling her eyes and responding, “The old ‘some people are saying’ that some stations get away with.”

I nodded in her direction. “Exactly. Perversion of the news, if you ask me.”

She managed a smile in my direction. “My husband: the news man with integrity.”

“Darn tootin’ I am.”

My teenage daughters slapped their faces with their palms. Hannah spoke for both of them. “Geezus, Dad. You can be so corny, sometimes.”

Olivia finally spoke, looking up at Laura. “Mom, why does Daddy look like Hannah?” Her eyes then finally landed on me.

“We don’t know, yet, honey. That’s what the doctors are going to figure out.”

As if on cue, one of the nurses approached us. “Hello. Are you folks the Kents?”

Laura turns to her. “We are… ?”

“Which one of you is Christopher?”

I held up my arm with the hospital band on it. “That would be me.” I may have to get used to the double-take she gave me at that moment.

The nurse led me to the triage room and set about taking my vitals. Laura and the girls waited just outside the room. She first put me on a scale with a ruler on it, getting my height and weight: five feet and ten inches tall, weighing in at one hundred and fifty three pounds. Last I checked, I was six feet and two inches tall while weighing about one hundred and eighty six pounds. In a matter of moments back in my living room at the house, I’d lost four inches of height and thirty-three pounds. That doesn’t take into account an apparent change of sex and return to youth. The other vitals such as blood pressure, heart rate, oxygen saturation, temperature, and breaths per minute were all within normal parameters.

After a heated discussion about not being seemingly sick or injured at all, I was finally escorted to an exam room with my family in tow. Once again, we had to wait a while for anyone to even come into the room to attend me. When they finally did, they were rather dismissive but cooperative. Nearly an hour passed before the doctor even came into the room. In his green scrubs, he looked utterly exhausted and a little confused when he walked in. He did that double-take in my direction.

“Am I in the wrong room? The chart is showing that there’s a forty-five year old man in here.” The doctor asked.

“You’re in the right room, doctor.” I sighed as I spoke. “I’m Christopher Kent.”

He blinked several times. “Wow… okay… I mean… you’re the third one this shift.”

“Third one what?”

“Mysterious, almost instantaneous sex change or age regression… or both.” The doctor announced before taking a strong breath. “Okay, we’ll get a full blood panel, some CTs, and a full MRI. I don’t know if we’ll be able to get any answers about how or why this happened. You’ll probably be here for a while. Are you okay with that?”

I turned to my wife. “Laura?”

She firmly nodded. “We need to know, Chris.”

My gaze turned back to the doctor. “Let’s do it, Doc.”

He simply nodded and got to work. I turned again toward my wife and kids. She looked worried still and they all looked tired and bored. My conscience would not allow me to inconvenience them for many more hours. A minute or two after the doctor left, a phlebotomist came into the room armed with needles and vials. She began to prepare my skin for the needle poke.

“Honey, maybe you should take the kids home. They look really bored and tired. I don’t want to feel like I’m forcing them to stay here or anything.” I stated toward Laura.

None of them responded at first and all of them looked at the arm the phlebotomist was trying to get a needle into. I turned to look and she’d already broken or bent three needles. She was trying one last time to put a needle in my arm. It wouldn’t penetrate. Instead, the needle bent under the force. The phlebotomist looked at me with surprised eyes.

“I can’t get a needle in. Your skin isn’t even indenting when I try.” She stated plainly.

Madison raspberried her lips. “Invulnerable.”

“Madison, don’t jump to conclusions.” I scolded her before turning back to the phlebotomist. “Has this ever happened before?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ve never bent or broken a needle against someone’s skin. This is too weird. I’m gonna talk to the doctor.”

“You tried your best. Thank you.” I softened my tone toward her, understanding the plight.

She shuffled her cart away with the bent and broken needles. I felt really bad for her. As soon as she left the room, Laura turned to me.

“Okay, Chris. I’m going to take the girls home. They have school in the morning.” She sighed. “I’ll get them settled in and come back.”

I nodded slowly. “Sounds like the best idea, honey.”

No one hugged me or gave me a kiss when they left. There’s never been a time in my life where a parting from my kids or my wife didn’t involve some sort of hug. Laura and I don’t part without a kiss good-bye. My heart sank as I watched them leave. Part of me longed for that connection but the other part understood that this entire situation must be just as weird for them as it was for me.

The next few hours crawled along like anyone that’s been in the hospital and subjected to such a vast battery of tests would experience. The staff had me strip out of my sweaty clothes and into a hospital gown. There was a moment that I marveled at how completely my body had changed. I’d seen very few naked women before Laura and I got together. This body seemed fairly standard fare. I didn’t dwell on the moment too long before slipping on the hospital gown and subjecting myself to whatever tests they deemed necessary. CT scans, x-rays, MRIs, a pelvic exam, and urinalysis were all conducted. I had empathy for my wife at the gynecologist before, but now I knew exactly what that was like. Laura came back after the CT scans and held my hand through the pelvic exam like I’ve done for her numerous times. They at least let us order some food since we were there so long.

After a couple hours more, the doctor finally came in to speak with Laura and I. It was a different doctor than we’d seen hours before. This one was a thirty-something woman that actually wore a lab coat over her scrubs. She came in with a clipboard that contained the chart information that had been gathered through the night.

“Okay, Mr. and Mrs. Kent. I’ve got good news and bad news, depending on your perspective,” She announced.

“Doctor, I’m a journalist. There’s no such thing as good news or bad news. There’s only objective truth. Please, proceed.” I stated.

“Well, that’s good at least.” She responded. “So, there’s nothing wrong with you, medically. No broken bones. No internal bleeding. We didn’t detect any pathogens in your urinalysis. We, apparently, can’t take any blood samples, so that’s not saying much.” She held the clipboard to her chest and took a quick breath. “As you no doubt already discovered from the pelvic exam, you are definitively female, Mr. Kent. MRI confirmed the presence of a female reproductive system with no trace of any male systems. Based on corroboration between the CTs, x-rays, and MRI, you seem to have anatomically become a young woman approximately seventeen years old. I have no explanation for you, other than that.”

“How is that possible? One minute, I’m a forty-five year old father of three and the next minute I’m my own daughter’s younger sister? It’s madness!” I exclaimed.

“I agree, Mr. Kent. If I knew how this happened, I’d be getting a letter from the Nobel Committee. Complete change of sex is something less complex organisms do every day, but not creatures as complex as humans. There’s no scientific precedent for age regression.”

Laura actually took my hand in comfort. “What are we supposed to do?”

The doctor shrugged. “I have no idea, Mrs. Kent. The only thing I do know is that we’re going to discharge you. There’s absolutely no medical reason to keep you. I suggest you go home and… I don’t know… adapt?”

Both Laura and I slumped. “Thank you, Doctor,” I sighed and moved to get off the gurney.

While getting myself dressed, Laura and I didn’t say a word. Neither of us were really prepared to face this new reality and “adapt”. Something quite profound had happened and a lot of things had changed. Worst was: there were no answers. Questions swirled around in my mind about what this meant for me, for Laura, and for my children. Yet again, there were no answers.

Laura accepted the discharge paperwork on my behalf and we shuffled out of the hospital. All I had on was the button-up shirt, boxers, slacks, and socks I’d worn home from the airport. They were stained with dried sweat and it smelt horrific. None of it really mattered. The chill of the forty-five degree weather didn’t even register. My feet walking on the hard surface of the sidewalk and parking lot on the way to the car didn’t even register in my mind. It was as if my entire body was as numb as my mind. I settled into the passenger seat of my wife’s SUV, buckled in, and just stared out the window watching the suburban landscape pass by. Neither Laura nor I said a word to each other on the way home.

Once home, I followed Laura into the house. It was fairly quiet. It seemed like the girls were all in bed sleeping. We ascended the stairs to our bedroom. Laura excused herself to the bathroom and closed the door, which was a new behavior to me. I stripped out of the sweaty clothes, deposited them into the hamper, and found a t-shirt and sweatpants combination. My usual choice of underwear was proven unnecessary, so I didn’t wear any.

Laura and I climbed into bed and turned off the lights without exchanging a single word.

Beacon of Hope



Chapter Three

DISCLAIMER :: This fanfiction is based on Superman from DC Comics. All rights reserved. Art by CWBlaine on Deviant Art.
Author's note: Perhaps it is the start of a new collaborative universe or a standalone project for myself. I don't know, yet.

(( Chapter Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOTcr9wKC-o ))

Waking up the next morning, every fiber of my being wished the prior evening and night was all one long dream. Maybe I fell asleep on the plane? Once I opened my eyes and shifted, reality set in. Laura was nowhere to be found. There was a thrown aside comforter and an indentation in the bed where she slept. The call of nature forced me out of bed and toward the bathroom. The act of relieving myself confirmed yesterday was no dream. The corroborating second source was the mirror.

Much like the vanity on the back of the sun visor in the car last night, I got a good look at myself. The wavy, dark chocolate brown hair was in disarray from a restless sleep. My brilliant blue eyes stared back at me, albeit with dark circles under them. My nose was basically the same, albeit smaller. My jaw had lost all pretense of masculine angular profile and become more rounded, even streamlined. My chin was more of a point than before. My lips seemed a little more plump, but basically the same. The wrinkles on my face were completely gone. There was almost a bioluminescent sheen to my skin. The overall shape of my head was smaller. At least my ears didn’t change much. My neck was smooth and thinner than it had ever been. Two mounds tented my t-shirt but I couldn’t see much of anything else with how loose the shirt and sweatpants were. I was glad for that.

Hannah was right, though. The girl in the mirror did look like her, but only in age range and familial resemblance. Thus, like her but me but female. There is no self-respecting editor that would ever allow a sentence like that to reach a page.

Turning from the mirror, I ventured back into the bedroom Laura and I shared to make the bed. Once it was tidy, I ventured further into the house. All the family bedrooms were upstairs. Laura and I had our own ensuite bathroom. The girls shared a bathroom in the hallway. They each had their own room. Descending the stairs brought on sensations I was not ready to face right now. At the bottom of the stairs, the living room where my own personal nightmare began was to the left. I rounded the corner and followed the hallway to the kitchen near the back. There was a good cup of joe calling my name.

Even as I went through the motions of pouring cold coffee into a mug, popping in the microwave, and waiting a couple minutes, there was the feeling of isolation. The five bedroom and three bathroom house felt like an enormous cavern. All that space for one person. Laura had probably gone to work. The girls had already gone off to school. I glanced at the digital clock on the coffee pot. Eleven twenty-two in the morning. I hadn’t slept in like this since my raucous college days. At the microwave beep, I grabbed my now hot cup of coffee, added some sugary liquid creamer, stirred it, and padded my bare feet on the laminate wood flooring we’d had installed to replace carpet a few years back.

The only activity that came to my mind was to watch the news. I’d missed a lot overnight, so it was time to catch up. Entering the same living room where everything happened last night gave me momentary pause, but I slowly overcame it. Finding the remote in the same place I left it last night, I tapped the power button. In much less than a second, the TV was on and still tuned to the same channel.

For the next few hours, I lost myself in the stories of the day: Russia v. Ukraine, Israel v. Palestine, Sudan v. itself, and the President v. everything else. Unfortunately, those pertinent issues are relegated to side stories. The breaking news was all about yesterday’s events. Per usual, most of the “reporting” was speculative. Nobody seemed to have any hard facts to report. They were making it up as they went along. Such is the nature of 24-hour news. Real journalism requires time. Time to investigate, time to corroborate, time to organize into coherent reality, and time to actually inform people.

Frustrated, I decided to check for any local news coverage on the situation. I managed to catch the WCIU broadcast. They were also talking about this breaking story. However, they decided to interview a scientist rather than talking heads with national scope. The anchor was the usual late-20s pretty boy. The interviewee was a Hispanic woman that appeared to be a little older than him. She was dressed very well in her suit jacket but looked uncomfortable wearing it. Her dark hair was tied back in a tight bun and black plastic rim glasses sat atop her nose.

“Here with us today is a researcher from the University of Chicago, Dr. Isobel Marquez. As the world has been trying to sort out what exactly happened yesterday, Dr. Marquez has been at the forefront of solving that puzzle. An astrophysicist and cosmologist, she has dedicated her life to discovering the mysteries of our universe. It’s an honor to have you in our studio, Dr. Marquez.” the anchor introduced his guest.

She nodded cordially to him. “It’s my pleasure to offer insight into the truth of what we’re all experiencing, Mr. Olsen. Thank you for having me.”

He shifted his posture ever so slightly as he began the interview proper. “Dr. Marquez, the elephant in the room is obvious: what, exactly, happened yesterday?”

“I’m glad someone finally asked that question. It’s simple, really. A wave or pulse of energy was detected by the Gemini Observatory in Hawaii several days ago. Many astronomers and cosmologists have been hypothesizing what it could be because we’ve never witnessed anything else like it. We believed it to be a novel astronomical phenomenon. As we observed it, we became aware of its blueshift wavelength.”

“Mind breaking that down for our viewers, Doctor? What’s a blueshift wavelength?”

“A blueshift wavelength refers to the frequency of the light getting shorter. Adversely, a redshift wavelength refers to the frequency of the light getting longer. In astronomy, these denote an object or phenomenon moving closer to the observer or further away. It’s called the Doppler Effect. You can observe a similar phenomenon watching a video of a semi-truck blowing its horn or in person. The horn seems to increase in pitch as it approaches you and decrease in pitch as it moves away. We have observed many of the galaxies in our cluster moving away from us. The light coming from them is in a redshift wavelength pattern. However, our neighbor the Andromeda Galaxy is moving toward us, its light emitting a blueshift wavelength.”

“So, you’re saying that this unknown thing was moving toward us?”

“Oh, yes. Observatories all around the world were confirming it within hours. We had no idea what it was but it was, by all calculations, going to hit our planet. We were able to deduce that it was, in fact, energy rather than a solid object, which brought immense relief. There was no use tracking its speed as it was the speed of light. At first detection, it was well outside the solar system; approximately twenty-five times the distance from the sun to Pluto. We didn’t have much time to really study it before it was going to hit.”

“The public was notified that some disruptions to our lives may occur mere hours before it happened, but why weren’t we notified much sooner if you and your colleagues knew it was going to hit a full six days in advance?”

The good doctor clenched her jaw. “National Security.”

This kid was really asking some hardball questions. I had underestimated the guy.

The anchor, now identified as Jakob Olsen on the screen, nodded quickly. “I see. What do you make of the reports of ‘people with powers’ coming in? Could this be linked to your phenomenon?”

“My hypothesis on the topic is this phenomenon originated from interstellar space. It could perhaps even have originated in a neighboring galaxy. I’ll have to retroactively track its trajectory to be certain. As a cosmologist, I know that there is still quite a lot we don’t know about the universe. What I won’t do is respond to speculation and rumor.” Dr. Marquez stated plainly.

The anchor smiled. “I think we’ll punctuate with that. Thank you, Dr. Marquez.”

The broadcast moved on to the weather afterward. Why had I never heard of this guy before? Who was this Jake Olsen person? What was readily apparent was that he was quite the journalist. He wanted the truth. He danced around the speculation, but wasn’t concerned with it. Good, solid, honest reporting. The good doctor handled herself well opposite such a journalist. She kept to the facts without veering off course. She never took his bait. This interview could go national.

A phone rang. The sound hit my ears as muffled. I started searching the couch cushions to no avail. It rang again and I did what I could to discover its location. Slightly frantic, I rushed upstairs, but had to stop myself. I had just ascended the stairs in less than half a second. I looked behind me to marvel at the achievement for a moment before the phone rang again. It was coming from mine and my wife’s bedroom. I once again experienced myself move at incredible speed and heard the tail end of the ring. It was coming from the hamper. I dug into it and discovered the pants I’d worn yesterday with my phone still in the pocket. Pulling it out, the screen read “Mom and Dad”. Without thinking, I answered the phone.

“Hello?” I greeted.

“Hannah? Madison?” My mother’s voice wondered. “Why do you have your father’s phone?”

The realization of what I’d done hit me like a ton of bricks. I answered honestly, “It’s not Hannah or Madison, Mom.”

“You sound too young to be Laura. Who are you, young lady?”

“Mom… it’s me… Christopher.”

My mother has always been a pragmatic, facts-oriented woman. It was never a mystery where I inherited those traits from. She was quite skeptical at first. As I explained the events of yesterday, she began to understand more. I told her about the trip, the airport, the pulse thing, the ride home, and the rest of the evening. I left nothing to speculation. Just the facts, as Joe Friday used to say. She asked a lot of probing questions and I answered honestly. Our conversation carried on for over an hour and I still wasn’t sure whether or not she believed a word she was hearing. She then asked the one question I didn’t expect.

“What’s the family secret? Christopher would know this.” She asked firmly.

Caught off guard, I didn’t know how to answer at first. My mind searched for the one fact she was looking for. When my mind finally reached the answer, I breathed a heavy sigh. “We’re Jewish. Grandma barely escaped Europe after being planted with a Catholic family in the Netherlands when she was six, just before the German invasion. They hid her until the liberation, when she met an army corporal, fell in love, and moved to his hometown: Sheboygan. You found her original birth certificate hidden in a letter written in Yiddish in her cedar chest. You also found her Dutch passport with her assumed name: Mieke Keller. Most people called her ‘Marie’, though. We don’t talk about it because grandma was really traumatized by it all.”

The sound of the phone dropping on the ground was rather loud, to my ear. It had never been that loud before, but I guess this is part of that “super hearing” Madison was talking about. Noises denoting she’s fumbling with the phone followed before it was back up to her ear. Strangely, I could hear her heart rate increase.

“Christopher…” She breathed shakenly. “...is… is it really you?”

Not that she could see me, but I nodded. “It is, Mom. I can’t explain how at all, but it’s me. I don’t even know how to tell you how alien this voice is and I’m not even going to entertain the idea of my body, right now.”

Her voice was still shaking and her heart rate was up. “How… how did this even happen?”

“It happened right here in my living room in front of my wife and children last night. We went to the hospital, but all they could tell me was that I was a perfectly healthy seventeen year old girl. All the parts and everything. It’s all the same thing we just spent the last hour discussing.” I sighed, emotion climbing and causing tears to build up in my eyes.

“Your father and I have been hearing about that pulse on the news. It tripped his pace maker.” Her heart rate remained high.

It was my turn for a rise in heart rate. “Oh my god! He’s okay, right?!”

I could hear her skin glide against the phone. She was nodding. “Yes, honey. Your father is fine. It was only a few seconds.”

The well of tears increased in volume. “Geez, Mom… please don’t scare me like that.” I swallowed a knot in my throat. “Yea, so… there’s a correlation between the wave and what happened last night. Nothing definitive whatsoever.” I let out a groan sigh. “I wish I still had a newsroom full of people to work the angles with.”

I heard my mother nod again. “We noticed that, too. There’s a lot of talk on the news, but very little being said.” She took a moment to think. “Have you heard them talking about people with powers? What kind of nonsense is that?”

I hung my head and closed my eyes. “That one is probably true, Mom. I’ve had some really strange experiences since last night.”

“Christopher, I need to be honest: I still don’t know what to say about all this. I know my son to be a forty-five year old man. He’s a good husband to his wife, a good father to his children, and a positive member of his community. He makes sacrifices that might harm him but lead to a good life for his family. He’s engaged in his children’s lives. He’d give the shirt off his back or the last dollar in his wallet if he felt someone needed it more than him. I know it’s you, but… it’s really throwing me off that I think I’m talking to Hannah or Madison in the back of my mind.”

“I know, Mom. Can you imagine what I’m going through, right now?”

“Oh, HEAVENS yes. What are you going to do? Are you even going to be able to go back to work? How are you and Laura going to work? What about the girls? There are so many unknowns right now.”

Tears finally began to fall. “I don’t even know, Mom. I’m scared. I don’t know what I’ll do to provide for my family and back Laura up on the bills. She seems so withdrawn, Mom. This is probably just as confusing and scary for her. And the girls…” I sobbed. “Olivia wouldn’t even look at me, last night. Wouldn’t make eye contact.”

My mother’s voice shifted to a tone I’m convinced only mothers can achieve. The soft, comforting, soothing tone they adopt when their children are in crisis. “Oh, sweetheart… I know it’s bad now, but it can improve. A lot of people are going to doubt you. Honestly, right now, I do. You have to hold your head up and show us who you are, honey.”

“I’ll try, Mom. I’ve always tried to be the son you deserve. Everything’s upside down now. I don’t know which end is up and I’m the stuffing of a bratwurst in a casing that isn’t mine.”

“What was that thing your English teacher in high school would always tell you?”

She took me off guard. “Mr. Hanson? I…” My eyes wandered over the surface of the wall in front of me, searching for the answer. That particular English teacher had made an impression on me and helped make me want to be a journalist. Suddenly, the answer arrived in my conscious mind. “He said ‘show me, don’t tell me’.”

I heard the skin slide over the plastic of the phone again. She nodded. “Exactly. I still can’t believe the voice I’m speaking to is my son. Show me. Don’t tell me.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Hearing the front door startled me. I quickly sniffed back some excess mucus and wiped the tears from my face. “I have to go, Mom. The girls are home.”

We quickly said our good-byes before I hung up the phone and desperately tried to wipe the tears from my eyes and face. The phone was set upon the night stand before I exited the bedroom and entered the hallway. At first sight of me, Hannah rolled her eyes and slipped past me without a word. A soft smile was extended to Olivia, but she gave me an odd look before entering her bedroom. Standing in the hallway, I was 0 for 2. Madison reached the top of the stairs and gave me a disapproving look.

“You kinda look like crap, Dad.” She noted.

I let out a sigh. “Yea, I know.”

With a cheeky grin, she pointed finger guns at her bedroom door. “Homework.”

I meekly nodded as she, too, disappeared behind the door. Oh for three, I guess. In a bit of a sulk, I descended the stairs, rounded the corner, and headed to the kitchen to prepare some dinner. It’s an unwritten agreement between Laura and I that the first person home after work cooks dinner. Tonight, I was emotionally drained and did not possess the drive to make anything elaborate. After a quick check of the cupboards and refrigerator, it was decided that tonight would be sloppy joes and macaroni and cheese with some broccoli on the side. Once the hamburger was browned, the sloppy joe mix was released from the can, the pasta shells were al dente, the cheese sauce added, and the broccoli steamed, I called everyone down for dinner while I served up plates. The entire process took about an hour.

Though the girls and I sat at the table to eat, nobody said a word. It was a lot of awkward silence and uncomfortable glances. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Laura was working late again. When the girls finished, at least they cleared their own plates before they shuffled off to their bedrooms. The dishes were swiftly rinsed and set in the dishwasher. Yet again, I felt myself just going through the motions of life.

My mood found me moving out to the back deck, leaning against the railing. We bought this house to have room for each of the kids. The spare bedroom was a bonus that was nice to find should either of our parents visit. The deck was the icing on the cake. We could watch the kids play and have some time to talk. Hannah was only ten when we moved in. Madison was seven. Olivia was barely a year old. Watching the sunset, I was keenly aware that those days were gone. I think, on some level, all parents would wish for those days to last forever.

I could hear Laura’s car pull into the driveway. She shuffled into the house through the mudroom. I might have marveled at this new ability of mine if the acquisition of such a thing hadn’t broken my life. Laura hung her keys near the garage and set her purse on a ledge I built for her. Her tired feet shuffled on the linoleum of the kitchen floor. I didn’t leave my perch on the deck. Her footfalls started moving toward the sliding door and she stepped out onto the deck.

“Hannah? What are you doing out here, sweetie?” She asked.

I hung my head and lay it against my arms on the railing. “I’m not Hannah.”

She stopped short a few feet behind me. “Oh…”

I turned to meet her eyes. “Long night again?”

“Yea… uh… Chris, I think you should sleep on the couch.” She turned and went back inside.

She was trying to hide it, but I could see the pain and confusion on her face. Maybe she accepted a bit of a longer shift at work so she could avoid coming home. I didn’t know for sure and she wouldn’t tell me. After twenty-two years of marriage, there wasn’t much that was still a mystery between us. It was starting to feel as if a rift was forming.

Turning back to watch the sunset, I couldn’t help but note the juxtaposition between the actual sunset and what felt like the sunset of my marriage. Laura and I had always acted like teenagers one minute and a well-oiled machine of teamwork the next.

I wanted to just start running somewhere. Anywhere. Problem is: where are you supposed to run to escape from yourself?