Cape Not Included

“Houston, we have a problem.” It was the same, old, never changing story. Houston Feerless was no superhero. He knew that. And most of Belleville knew that. But they treated him like one. Everyone called him for almost anything at all.

People have problems. Houston almost always fixed them.

He couldn’t get a moment’s peace. If the phone wasn’t ringing, someone was knocking his door, or leaving a note on his windshield.

He couldn’t say how it got to this point. He’d grown up in Belleville, always willing to help. But when did he become the sole solution to all things broken?

He grew to adulthood learning what used to be commonplace practical skills. He’d worked at mechanics, plumbing, electrical and construction over the years. He studied veterinary medicine at the community college. Don’t tell the ADA but he’d pulled more than one tooth. The IRS never audited anyone whose tax returns were prepped by Houston.

Dropping off groceries, feeding the cat, fixing a tire or pruning a tree… Anything he didn’t do?

Fixing tires was the big one. The roads in Belleville were famously bad. Each spring, after the rains, a grader would level the streets throughout the town. An oil tank truck followed, spewing hot oil over freshly graded dirt. It made fast, efficient, cheap and smelly home-made asphalt. And it kept the dust down.

When Houston arrived to help out, kids would gather. “Hey! Houston, where’s your cape?”

“Why drive that old truck? Can’t you fly?”

He would answer, “Of course I can. But the truck can’t. Need my tools.”

Rescuing kittens from trees was a specialty of Houston’s. That alone secured his hero’s reputation. Instead of looking to the fire department, people called Houston.

The agility he displayed when climbing trees on rescue missions drew crowds. The county weekly newspaper covered his exploits more than once.

The Belleville Belles, a sewing circle, presented Houston with a sturdy canvas pack. They designed it for securely carrying his rescues to safety.

Houston had no set price for his efforts. He was a generous soul. Many thought him a fool. Customers of Belleville’s tavern, Drip & Foam, shared their opinions.

“What kind of dope works for free?”

“What quality can you expect from that Jack-off All Trades?”

“Get what you pay for…”

More than one grumbled, “How’s he afford that house, workin’ for free?”

Many townsfolk rejected the idea of ‘free’ unless they wanted Houston’s help.

Houston sought no profit. People paid what they felt his services were worth. The time he saved them made a difference. Most were generous when he’d get the job done before some overpriced city grunt even showed up.

Houston did alright. People liked him. Most paid in cash. And countless pies and casseroles found their way into Houston’s second freezer. Some weeks, his only grocery expense was coffee.

Houston had begun preparing dinner when the phone rang. Another flat tire. He turned off the oven and left. These trips rarely take long. But delays happen.

He found the disabled car just outside of town. A young woman watched the young man from a distance. He was yelling at her. Houston pulled over and approached them. He recognized Nathaniel, known since he was a kid.

“What’s the problem?”

Nathaniel said, “Flat tire.”

“You’re old enough to switch out a tire. Why call me?”

“I’ll fix it. Never mind. I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay…”

The woman said, “I called you. I’m Winona.”

Nathaniel tried to shush her. “Win…”

“I wanted a neutral party.”

Houston didn’t get it. “To change a tire?”

“No. Because...” She pointed at Nathaniel.

Houston first encountered Nathaniel while coaching t-ball years ago.

The kid never got the concept of team play. Though not a good athlete, he expected star treatment. Rules didn’t apply to him. He once struck out but demanded a fourth try at hitting the ball. This attitude endeared him to no one.

Since then, Houston found rescuing kittens more rewarding than coaching.

He said, “I came to fix a tire…”

Winona continued, “He’s being nasty.”

Nathaniel said, “She said horrible things to me.”

Houston looked at the couple. ‘Changing tires, okay. He said, she said? Not gonna happen!’

Houston tried to assess the level of crisis. “Did she call the police on you?”

“No. She’s critical.”

“Wow, scary. Call out the Marines! Are you armed?”

Winona gasped and moved to the far side of the car.

Nathaniel said, “No.”

“What about your honor? How you going to defend that?”

“It’s humiliating. I can’t stand it.”

“And screaming like a wounded hog will earn her respect?”

Nathaniel sulked.

“I’ve known you a long time, Nate. I suggest you grow up.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Let’s see… Have you tried ignoring her…?”

Houston watched Nathaniel pull the spare out and lean it against the fender. But he struggled to place the jack under the car.

Houston said, “…You could have laughed. Or walked away… Why give words more weight than an image in a tarnished mirror?”

Nathaniel said, “We have to get going. And I’m sure you’re busy.”

Houston looked at Winona who shook her head.

“What started this?”

“Still here? Just fix the tire. Or go... I don’t care.”

“Was what she said true?”

“No.”

“Look Nate. I’m no therapist. I fix tires. I deal in facts. But why respond?”

Nathaniel shrugged.

Houston pulled the hydraulic jack from his truck. He dragged it into place, raised the car and freed the damaged tire. He pulled his pneumatic drill out and purred the lug nuts off in about thirty seconds. Nathaniel held the spare for him. Together, they mounted it on the wheel. He tightened the lug nuts and that was that.

Houston said, “Thanks for the assist.”

“Yeah, well, thank you! What do I owe you?”

“You watch TV news?”

“…Sometimes.”

“Then you know half of what they say is hogwash.” Nathaniel nodded. “And the rest is made up. Outside, real life goes on. You can always choose your response.  Presume good intent. Be kind to each other. That’d make my day.”

Nathaniel nodded and turned to Winona. He moved to her and apologized. She did too. They took hands and embraced.

Houston loaded his equipment back into his truck.

Nathaniel asked, “You ever need an assistant?”

“Sometimes. But the pay stinks.”

“Be worth it. I want to learn.”

Houston nodded. “Keep you in mind.”

Winona said, “Mr. Feerless, I’ve heard about you, like forever. You could be a therapist.”

“Oh, no. I’d rather fix broken windows. The solutions are clearer.”

They smiled. Houston’s phone rang and he picked up. He shook hands with Nathaniel and Winona and returned to his truck. He revved the engine and pulled away.

Nathaniel said, “Maybe he only flies on his day off.”