Broken windows part 14; winter spell

Wintertime Love

Boxman’s perspective

There is some sort of eternal feeling of warmth whenever you live within a cabin’s wall. The wood carvings and large glass bay windows, simple furnishings and cozy spaces with natural light gives off the impression of total safety and security. The light catches your form in an embrace that feels like something you might’ve missed your whole life, like a tranquil, deep turquoise water that heals you body and mind.

But, you’re living in the water, and you become one with it in a sense. For a long time, I rejected its healing properties. The healing properties of love.

Of friendship. Of family and trust and warmth. I thought had only wanted cold and dark and bold.

I’ve always been a villian. A petty one, a joke one, as so many say. I build robots, “henchmen,” for other evil corporations or empires or just other supervillains to buy, but I keep my original prototypes of all my models affixed with memory, emotions and their general personality matrix I had installed so my children can always be here with me even if they have to be rebooted into a new body. It took me a long time to see that my obsession of destroying the plaza and that hero supply bodega was wrought out of my estranged insecurities of loss. Loss of profits, mainly. Hahaha. But seriously, I think I did it to push everyone away from me. I believed that by destroying everything that I would truly the best villian and be happy this way. That destroying things would be all that I need.

I overlooked all my creations and their unique beauty. I overlooked being a father to my children. I overlooked how amazing it could feel to have a real family. A partner. A best friend and soul mate. Professor Venomous, the one who seemed to see something in me no one else could. A bioengineering super villian who had better looks, reputation and skills than I, yet for some reason, he clinged to me for my boldness, my confidence and my own engineering sort of background. I was highly flattered he wanted to merge our talents and business together, but even more surprised to see our mutual interests were beyond profits and business opportunities. They were of love. A love I couldn’t even imagine, but it was there, right as we spent our long nights together studying our separate science extracts, me creating new blue prints for a laser eye detachment or PV creating a biological weapon to protect the company. All of our memories spent with the kids, it was all so amazing. A perfect short story that couldn’t have lasted too long. These sort of things tend to feel like lifetimes, but they end like a flash. I know it feels cliche, but you never know what you have until it’s gone.

Even living here in this cozy cabin as a retired super villian, with my daughter Mikayla, (the rest of my kids have their own business and/or tv show, farm, career, and Ernesto carries on the Boxmore family business), the quiet sanctity of this life feels like a growing solitude that I at first, enjoyed.

It’s been awhile since I have made peace within myself and with my kids, and now I have nothing to do but think about my lost love. I know that The President of the Universe gave everyone their best life, as K.O. also made peace within himself and dealt directly his own anger, healing himself within and somehow winning the favor of the President. He wished for everyone to get their best life. It was a beautiful wish, I think. But, even best lives need to branch off. I heard a rumor that PV and Fink were given a rogue empty planet to destroy. I’m sure that was fun, especially in the beginning. But I bet he feels so bored and lonely.

I worry about him and Fink a lot, but I read and write and try to keep myself occupied.

I sit with my coffee and read a book that is based on some self help sort of theory, but I find myself dozing off.

I see Mikayla sleeping on the couch nearby as our fire in the fireplace stirs to a quiet roar.

I feel myself finally resting but as I do, I hear a loud knocking at my door.

Mikayla gets up and growls and I wave her off, “It’s okay, I’ll answer it, dear.”

She nods but watches carefully as I go to the front.

Suddenly I’m meet with familiar dark eyes and a large cake that says in shaky writing, “I’m sorry,” and a big red heart above it.

My heart skips a hundred beats and I feel so weak in the knees, all I can muster to say is, “Huh?” And I feel so foolish. Professor Venomous in the flesh with an apology cake at my door and that’s all I can say?

He lifts the cake up almost like a shield in front of his face and body.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely concealing nervousness and pain.

I find myself chuckling. What a strange turn of events, I think.

I feel the icy chill of winter seeping in, and he looks so cold.

I tell him, “Here we go again!” And he looks at me in a confused way, but then I let him in and I give him warm tea. He is smiling at times, but he seems to be asking permission silently every time he does so, and it pains me to see that he sees himself badly. His expression expectantly waiting for mine to reciprocate, to allow his bit of positive calmness, and though I understand his feelings of shame, I do not like to have this power over him.

This winter spell has finally gotten to me, and I feel it closing into a long sort of familiar haul. A winter sort of love.

But first, we needed to unpack so much.