Poem: "When Someone Else Believes in You"

[ysabetwordsmith]

This poem is spillover from the June 2, 2020 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by prompts from fuzzyred and wyld_dandelyon. It also fills the "Acceptance" square in my 6-1-20 card for the Cottoncandy Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by Anthony & Shirley Barrette. It belongs to the Mercedes thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.


"When Someone Else Believes in You"

[Wednesday, March 25, 2015]

The door opened, letting in
a gust of brisk spring air.

Dr. G recognized the girl
who slipped into Soup to Nuts.
At least she was visible today.

Chloe Draper, also known as
Curtains, had long plum hair
and excellent skills in stealth.

She tended to dress in neutrals,
often in clothes that could be worn
in many different ways or that reversed
to show another color, making it easier
for her to change her appearance quickly.

Dr. G knew that she worked as a hacker
and sometimes a spy, ghosting through
classes in stealth technology and
computers rather than enrolling
in college and leaving a trail.

At the moment, she was
poring over the jobs board.

"Welcome to Soup to Nuts,
how may I help you?" said Dr. G.

"Don't come near me," Curtains said,
shaking her hair so it hid her face.

"Okay," said Dr. G. "How about
I sit down over here?" He chose
a chair outside of arm's reach.

She was probably glaring at him
behind her huge dark sunglasses,
but he couldn't see for certain.

"Whatever," Curtains snapped.
"I'm between gigs, don't bug me."

"We have several new listings in
computers," Dr. G said helpfully.

"I can see that," Curtains said.
"Why the hell do you keep staring
at me? I already know I'm a freak!"

Dr. G turned his back to her.
"Is this better?" he asked.

"Fine," said Curtains. Paper
rustled, and then she sighed.

"Would you like help sorting
through all those job flyers?"
Dr. G offered. "Sometimes
the board gets a bit messy."

"Doesn't matter anyhow,"
Curtains muttered. "I never
find anything useful this way.
Invisible people are all evil, I
should just stick to what I know."

"Oh now, I don't believe that,"
Dr. G said lightly. "I've known
plenty of other invisible people.
They're no more prone to evil
than any other human being."

Curtains snorted. "There
aren't really decent jobs
for what I can do."

"Of course there are,"
Dr. G said. "You have
all kinds of opportunities."

"Oh yeah? Name three,"
Curtains said with a huff.

"You could observe wildlife
without disturbing anything,
as long as you stayed
upwind," said Dr. G.

"Nature, ugh," she said.

"If you weren't you, then
you'd be very good at
helping you," Dr. G said.
"You could sit with folks
who need company but
would rather be alone."

"Yeah, no," Curtains said.
"I'm not a fucking nurse."

"You could work with
blind people," said Dr. G.
"They wouldn't even notice
if you were visible or not!"

"Huh," she said thoughtfully.
"I didn't think of that one. Why
are you being so nice to me?"

"First, I prefer being nice to
being mean," said Dr. G.
"Second, it's part of my job.
A friendly hand can make
all the difference in the world."

"I don't have friends," she said.
"I won't fall for a friendly hand."

"The glory of friendship is
not the outstretched hand,
not the kindly smile, nor
the joy of companionship,"
Dr. G said with a smile.

"What, then?" Curtains said.

"It is the spiritual inspiration that
comes to you when you discover
that someone else believes in you
and is willing to trust you with
a friendship," said Dr. G.

"Oh," she said softly.
"That's ... new."

"Take your time
getting used to it;
there's no rush here,"
said Dr. G. "Would you
like to work with Mrs. Wu?
She's blind, and she likes
helping people with things."

The door opened again,
admitting a sullen boy
and his social worker.

Dr. G waved to Boing-Boing
and Mrs. Bowens. "I'll be
with you in just a minute,"
he said. "Curtains, why
don't you explore some of
our tactile books? They're
fun for learning Braille."

Curtains drifted toward
Mrs. Wu's desk, only
to be brought short by
a scolding sound from
the social worker.

Instantly she faded
from sight. The door
opened and closed.

"Well, that was rude,"
said Dr. G. "Everyone
has a right to come here
as long as they're polite.
She wasn't hurting anything."

"But she's a supervillain,"
said Mrs. Bowens. "They're
no good for anything but trouble."

"And making ice cream, which
you seem to enjoy," Dr. G said.

Boing-Boing snickered at them.

"I don't see why you keep trying
to make friends with supervillains,"
said Mrs. Bowens. "They're not safe."

"Neither is my brother, but that
doesn't stop me from loving him,"
Dr. G said. "It's not our abilities
that matter, it's what we choose
to do with them. If I reach out
to supervillains, sometimes they
decide that they like having friends
more than having a wild time."

"Try that with this one,"
Mrs. Bowens said, pointing
at Boing-Boing slumped in a chair.

"That's the plan," Dr. G said.
"Would you like to talk today,
Boing-Boing? You could
pick any topic you like."

Boing-Boing rolled his eyes.

"That's okay," said Dr. G.
"We can do something else.
Would you rather beat me
playing basketball instead?"

The boy startled, his chin
falling off of his hand.
"Really?" he said.

"Sure, we can go
down the strip and get
the sports equipment,"
Dr. G said. "I'm quite
terrible at it, but it's
fun to try anyway."

"That's not therapy,"
Mrs. Bowens protested.

"It's not," Dr. G agreed.
"Therapy only works with
willing participants. If he's
not ready yet, that's fine.
We can take time getting
to know each other instead."

Boing-Boing gave him
a wary look. "Guess it's
better than sitting here."

"Come on, then," said Dr. G.
He let the way along what had
once been a strip mall and now
held auxiliary parts of Soup to Nuts.

They picked up a basketball and
went to the hoop in the back.

Dr. G bounced the ball a few times,
then threw it at the metal ring.

It missed the backboard completely.

Boing-Boing laughed. "You really
do suck at this," he observed.

"Exactly as promised," Dr. G said.
He retrieved the basketball and
then passed it to Boing-Boing.

The teen bounced it lazily,
then lofted it through the hoop.

"Well done!" Dr. G said.

They passed the ball
back and forth, taking turns
tossing it at the hoop.

Boing-Boing never missed,
because he stretched his arms
like rubber if the ball wasn't
heading where he wanted.

"You don't mind that I'm
cheating?" he asked after
a few rounds of play.

"You're not cheating,"
Dr. G said. "You're using
your abilities quite fluently.
Thank you for sharing."

"That's not what people
usually say," the teen muttered.

"Ah well," Dr. G replied.
"What do they usually say?"

"Hold still, punk," said Boing-Boing.

"That doesn't sound good at all,"
Dr. G said. "I bet that this is
a much nicer way to spend
part of your day instead."

"Yeah," said Boing-Boing.
"Basketball's cool. I still
don't want therapy, though."

"That's fine," Dr. G said.
"Basketballs don't make
very good therapists."

Boing-Boing laughed again.
"Why're you out here shooting
hoops with a supervillain, though?"
he asked, tossing the ball.

"Because you didn't want to talk
about anything today," said Dr. G.
"Basketball is a good way to relax."

"Yeah, but I mean ... what Mrs. Bowens
said wasn't all crap," Boing-Boing replied.

"I beg to differ," said Dr. G. "She
interrupted a perfectly good talk
I was having with someone, so
who's the troublemaker there?"

"I guess ... Mrs. Bowens,"
said Boing-Boing. "Weird."

"What's weird is that people
don't notice how much harm
they do, pushing supervillains
away all the time," said Dr. G.
"I've seen a lot more progress
from reaching out to them
than lashing out at them."

"Like basketball?" the teen said.

"That's one example," said Dr. G.
"After all, you can't shoot hoops
and steal at the same time. This
gives you a chance to explore
which of those you like better."

"And what if that's stealing?"
Boing-Boing challenged.

"Well, that would make
your life harder, which
would make me sad, but
it's your choice," Dr. G said.
He bounced the ball off the rim.
"I don't know, though, basketball
is pretty stiff competition."

"Yeah," the teen said.

"It just comes down to
acceptance," said Dr. G.
"You have to take people
as they are, and meet them
where they are, not push
them to be what you want."

Boing-Boing sighed. "I wish
more people were like that.
Sometimes I feel like I got
no room to breathe."

"There are plenty more
where I come from,"
said Dr. G. "We hold
social events as well
as therapy sessions, if
you'd like to meet more."

Boing-Boing shook his head.
"I don't like people," he said.
"They always want something."

"Then we can keep playing
one-on-one," Dr. G said.

"Do you really know lots
of other supervillains?"
Boing-Boing asked.

"I know lots of people with
superpowers," said Dr. G.
"They come in all flavors.
Their ethics are their business,
unless they ask for help with that."

"And you don't try to ... make
them behave?" said Boing-Boing.

"No, that just chases people away,"
said Dr. G. "I do try to model
what I consider good behavior.
Some haven't seen it before."

"Yeah," Boing-Boing said. "I
don't get a lot of good examples."

"I think of this as harm reduction,"
said Dr. G. "Even if someone
chooses to be a supervillain, it's
better for them to be a healthy one
than the kind of whackjob who
wants to destroy the world."

"Guess I can't argue with
that one," said Boing-Boing.

"Since you seem curious
about this, here's an idea for
you to explore -- not in therapy,
at home," said Dr. G. "Watch
the news. Look for cape fights
and for cross-cape friendships.
Which convinces more people
to give up a life of crime?"

Boing-Boing stared at him
so hard that he missed
the ball on the rebound.

Dr. G snagged it and actually
managed to make a basket.

"Score!" Boing-Boing cheered.

* * *

Notes:

This poem is long, so its character and content notes appear separately.

Comments

Yes ...

[ysabetwordsmith]

I think she'd make a jolly good Cheshire Cat.