A Comic Doesn't Define You

1938. That was the year I got my first comic. Superman. He was awesome. He was followed by Batman, Ironman, Captain America, and Spider-Man. Spider-Man was my favorite. I wanted to be just like him. The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man who was constantly trying to prove his worth. I wanted to show everybody I was more than the little scrawny girl they saw when they spared me a glance. I wished on every shooting star and birthday candle that I could meet him. If I could, even for just 5 seconds, it would make up for not having any friends, for being that kid everyone avoided at school. But like most kids’ dreams at the time, mine were squashed. The depression hit us hard, and Mama and I were still reeling from its effects. Mama was very sick, and with Daddy dead, we didn’t have anyone bringing money into the home. I knew my comics were worth lots, enough to give us meals for a few weeks. But how could I part with them? They were my life collection. One day Mama fell down the stairs and hit her head real bad. But the hospital wouldn’t take her. “We are full for the next few months. We can’t take more,” they said. I remember Mama crying. She said our closest family was so far away, and we couldn’t turn anywhere for help. This scared me. Mama never cried. She was always strong. But like I said, the depression hit us hard. I walked around town looking for a doctor that could come over and help Mama. But we couldn’t afford any of them. There was only one thing I could do, so I went upstairs and pulled out my box of precious comics from underneath my bed. I took them all out, but held one tightly in my hand. Spider-Man. I couldn’t lose him. I would be strong and determined like him, always. I picked up the rest of my comics and went back outside. 

It was getting dark, and the wind had really picked up. I didn’t know where to go to sell my comics, but at this hour, there was only one store with its front door sign still reading OPEN. If I’d had a daddy growing up, I might have known better than to make dealings with a shop open at this hour of night. But Daddy died when I was three. I can barely remember him. I stepped into the shop and heard a bell chime overhead. A tall, wiry man wearing overalls regarded me shrewdly from behind his countertop. 

“What is a little girl like you doing out this hour of night, eh?” 

I approached him nervously, extending out my hand with the box of comics.

 “We need money sir. I’ve got some comics here. Don’t know how much it’s worth though.” 

Those words felt like a mistake the moment they left my mouth, but it was too late to pull them back.

“Well well well, what’ve you got there? Show me.”

I started pulling the comics out slowly, stacking them on his counter. Every part of me wanted to snatch them back, but I had to go through with it for Mama. 

“The originals I see, eh?”

“Yes sir.”

“You a big fan?”

“Been collecting them since I was seven, sir.”

He continued to flip through the pages, my body instinctively flinching as I watched his slender fingers leave creases on the edge of the pages. 

“Tell you what kid. I’ll give you $0.50 for each of ‘em.”

$0.50? I did the math in my head. I’d given him 20 comics. $10. The cheapest doctor I had found in town was $30.

“$1.50 for each, sir? My mama is really sick and she needs a doctor soon. $0.50 won’t pay for one.”

He laughed, or maybe it was more of a chuckle, and leaned forward. 

“I can’t negotiate, kid. $0.50, take it or leave it.”

I clenched my fists. I might not know how much they were worth exactly, but I knew my comics had to be worth more than that. I considered grabbing my comics and making a run for it. Or fight him till he gave me more. But those long legs of his could catch me in an instant. I didn’t need a daddy to tell me what trouble I would be in if he caught me. I sighed.

“May I… may I have my comics back and try at another store sir?” 

His facial features tightened. “Ain’t nobody living like kings and queens here anymore. You won’t find anybody who's gonna give you more than $0.50 for these.” 

I nodded sadly. “Alright, you can have them for $0.50 each.” 

He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a crumpled $10 bill. “Here, take it.”

I take the bill and leave his store. Outside, I peer in through the window. The man had perched himself on a chair, hugging the comics to his chest. I might’ve imagined it, but I thought I saw a tear slip out of his eye. I wanted to find out what was wrong, but it was getting late and Mama would worry. 

The next morning, Mama sent me to buy groceries with the quickly dwindling money from our safe box. Not wanting to have my newly earned $10 bill on my person for fear of being robbed on the street, I made sure it was safely tucked away in my sock drawer and went outside. As I walked towards the market, I saw a column of smoke snaking towards the sky. I heard shouts and saw people running in every direction away from the market. I ran forward to find out what was going on. The sight that met my eyes made me gasp. The entire market, the only one in a 30 mile radius of this town, was going up in flames. 

“Joie, Sarah! Follow mama, quick!”

“Anthony! Anthony, honey where are you?”

People were calling out for their family all around me. I found a man who appeared to be alone. 

“Sir, what’s going on? Who burned the market?”

“It’s those anarchists again. They don’t think the government is doing enough. Those damn fools. Don’t they realize how much they’re screwing everyone else over?” The man shook his head and walked away. 

I sucked in a breath. The anarchists rarely showed themselves in public. But when they did, they left a trail of mass destruction. I had to go back home to make sure Mama was safe. I reached our building and weeped with relief. It was still standing. But I knew danger was near, and we had to get out of here. I ran inside to tell Mama what happened, but stopped short in my tracks. Our door was in splinters, and inside, the whole place had been ransacked. “Mama!” I cried. “Jolie, Jolie is that you sweetie?” My mother’s voice called feebly from inside. I ran to her room. 

“Mama, Mama what happened?”

“They took everything, everything Jolie,” she sobbed. “I tried to stop them. But I couldn’t stand upright. Oh Jolie, I’m so sorry.”

“Mama, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. You didn’t ask for this sickness, and they would’ve come anyways, the market is burning up. It’s started again.”

Mama’s eyes widened in fear. The anarchists were good at instilling fear like that. After making sure Mama was alright, I scoured the rest of the house. Every drawer was hanging off its hinges, and broken glass lay everywhere on the floor. Suddenly remembering, I ran to my room to check my sock drawer. It was empty, completely empty. I covered my mouth to muffle my sob. Nearly everything we had was gone. And now how would I find a doctor for Mama? I got on my hands and knees to reach under my bed and pulled out my last comic. It wouldn’t be worth much at all, but I had to try. I went to Mama’s room and told her I’d be back soon. But she was already asleep. 

I took the same path I did last night to the tall man’s store. The bell announced my arrival once again. The counter was empty, so I called out, “Hello, are you in here?” The man came out a side door, and seemed a little startled to see me. 

“You’re back kid. What’s the matter?”

It was harder than I realized to hold back my sob. “We were robbed sir. The money you gave me, and everything we had before, it’s all gone.”

Something in the man’s features softened. “Ah, I’m sorry to hear.”

“Could you… could you spare some coins sir? Mama is still very sick and she needs a doctor.”

The man looked troubled. I realized he might not have much to give. Nobody had much to give anymore. “Got any more comics, kid?”

“Just one, and it’s my favorite, sir.”

“Who is it?”

“The Amazing Spider-Man. He’s always been my favorite, sir.”

The man smiled, and pulled out a picture frame. I didn’t want to seem rude, but curiosity got the best of me and I peeked over. The frame held a picture of a little girl, possibly three years younger than me. She was wearing a spider-man suit without the mask on, smiling widely at the camera. 

“This is my daughter. She was an angel on Earth, that little one.” 

“Was, sir?”

The man sighed. “She passed away five years ago. Would’ve been your age by now.”

I bowed my head and longed to ask for more details, but I kept my mouth shut. “I’m so sorry sir, it must have been very difficult to lose her.” 

“She loved Spider-Man more than any little girl I knew at the time though. She would dress up as him for Halloween every year and do little tricks. She loved to make the little ones laugh.”

My head shot up. “Really sir?”

He looked at me. “You two could’ve been friends.”

I bow my head again. “That would’ve been nice sir.”

“I know it seems backwards, but she was my hero. My little superhero.” He takes a deep breath and puts the frame away. “She would’ve wanted me to help you, especially if you loved Spider-Man as much as her.” He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a $20 bill. “This is all I can spare you, but I hope it helps.” 

Tears fill my eyes. “This is more than I could ever ask for sir. Thank you so much.” I hand out my last comic.

He shakes his head. “Keep it. No way I can ask you to part with it.” 

This man was being too generous. I wanted to stay longer to show my gratitude, but I couldn’t leave Mama alone any longer. I bid him goodbye and ran home. 

But home was now a skeletal building with fire coming out of every window on every floor. “MAMA!” I screamed. A crowd was gathered below the building, gazing up with their mouths open. I started running towards the smoke filled entrance but an arm held me back. I looked up to see a burly man holding me back. “You can’t go in there kid, you won’t be able to breathe.” I kicked and thrashed. “No! My mom is in there. I have to go get her!” I bit down on his arm and heard a curse. Finally free of his grip, I ran inside the burning building. Two steps in and I fell to my knees. My eyes were watering and my lungs felt as if they were filled with ash. I pulled my shirt up over my nose and reached our floor. I stumbled inside and reached Mama’s bed. She was still laying on it, asleep like Sleeping Beauty. “Mama!” I tried shaking her awake, but she wouldn’t open her eyes. I had a small frame, but Mama’s was even smaller. Months of this sickness ravaging her body made her as light as a feather. I hoisted her over my shoulder and made for the door. But I was met with scorching heat. I looked down to see a huge orange flame bellowing up the stairs I had taken to get here. The only other exit was the window, which was at least a 20 foot drop. As I debated whether I could face the fire or the fall, I heard glass shatter behind me. A figure stalked towards us, a figure none other than Spider-Man. My jaw dropped as I beheld my hero standing five feet away from me. He was much taller than I would have thought, but his suit was exactly how the comics depicted it to be. He extended out his hand. “I’ll bring her to the ground safely, kid.” Not needing to be told twice, I gently laid Mama on his shoulder and watched as he nimbly jumped out the window. I looked out the window and saw faces filled with awe as they all watched Spider-Man deftly land on his two feet carrying Mama. After setting her down and making sure she was looked after, he scaled the building quick as a cat and scooped me up in his arms. Safely on the ground, I watched him scale the building a dozen more times, bringing everyone safely outside. 

Mama, along with most of the residents in the building, were put on ambulances heading for the hospital. Not wanting to take up extra room that could be used by someone injured, I stayed behind. I realized as I watched everything happening around me I hadn’t seen Spider-Man after he brought the last person out. As I walked the streets looking for him, I saw a slumped figure on the ground in an alleyway. As I walked closer to see if he was injured, I recognized his face. It was the man from the shop. 

“Sir, sir are you okay?”

He had a hand pressed against his stomach and his clothes were ripped to frays. “I’m fine kid, it’s not as bad as it looks. How’s your mother?”

“She’s on her way to the hospital and it looks as if you need to too.”

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. You should go see your mother.”

I knelt down by him to look closer at his injury, and that’s when I noticed all the blood. I gasped. “You’re losing a lot of blood. You have to get to the hospital quickly!”

He laid a bloodied hand on my cheek. “It’s too late, kid. But I did what I had to do. It’s my turn to go.”

I was confused by his words, but before I could ask him what he meant, his hand dropped and eyes closed. I’d learned at school how to check for a pulse, but when I did, there was none. I let my tears flow freely for this man who had so generously helped me when I had had nothing to offer him. It was years later, when I looked back at that moment, that I realized he had been the Spider-Man who saved Mama’s life. He had been injured because he jumped into a burning building to save so many people he didn’t know. He played the role of hero that his daughter had always played for others. And I had never loved Spider-Man more. 

“But he couldn’t have really been Spider-Man,” my oldest grandson, Billie whined. “Where were his web shooters? A superhero doesn’t need to climb a building, they have magic powers. 

I laughed and ruffled his hair. “A superhero is a hero, not a magician. It doesn’t take their supernatural abilities to make them heroes. They follow their heart, and big hearts lead them to save everyone, even strangers.” 

“I agree with Grandma,” my youngest granddaughter, Eimee chirps. “It doesn’t matter if he wasn't the Spider-Man just like how the comic books describe him. He saved people, that’s what counts.”

I picked Eimee up and put her on my lap. “That’s right. And one day, each and every one of you will be a superhero in someone’s lives.”

At that, Billie and Eimee beamed.