This is Part 5 of the story of How I Met Superman. To get caught up, you can find the preceding chapters here.

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The rest of the fall ambled in and out of the heat of a Southern California autumn. Patrick and Debi and our circle of friends went to football games, went to class, called friends on the telephone, tried to keep up with who was dating whom. …

Now that I’d been introduced to Superman, I felt comfortable saying hi and nodding to him in the hallways, though my heart always began pounding with worry that he’d actually talk to me. I imagined myself stumbling over my words, stumbling over my feelings, stumbling over the sidewalk, something – and sometimes I’d be relieved that he simply nodded back and just kept walking.

Of course, I also had a boyfriend. So I filed away my interest, along with my pounding heart, as if they were curious distractions – things you batted at when they got in your way.

But every day, as I was unwrapping my sandwiches in the quad, I memorized a few new things about Superman. I learned that he was quiet. He did most of the listening in groups, not much talking. I learned that he had a great smile, and he’d flash it suddenly – brilliantly and without warning – as soon as something amused him. Continue reading →

This is Part 4 of the story of How I Met Superman. To get caught up, you can find the preceding chapters here.

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Our football team was called the Tigers. Football games were everything back then: Night air getting chillier, cold tickling our noses, bright stadium lights creating a fog across the field through which our blue-and-gold Tigers would emerge. The band would erupt, the students would leap from their seats, and then we’d all settle back down, shoulder-to-shoulder, drinking hot cocoa and cheering them on.

One night at a football game, I was sitting between Patrick* and my best friend Debi. I often sat between them this way because they really didn’t like each other. Patrick thought Debi took up too much of my time, and Debi thought Patrick was too mean to me. So mostly I just sat between them and let them ignore each other.

On this night, like many others, Debi was right, and Patrick and I had gotten in another fight. He’d stomped off along the wooden bleachers, and she’d looked at me again and rolled her eyes. I never knew what to think.

I tugged off the ring he’d let me wear – it was a large garnet birthstone ring of his that I wore on my thumb until I could get a chain, but on this night I thought I didn’t want it anymore. I didn’t want him anymore. Debi took the ring and inspected it under the dim bleacher lighting.

“He’s not good for you,” she said quietly.

I nodded and bit my lip.

“Let’s go get a Coke,” she said. Continue reading →