Gerard, who now has a story about him.
It’s time to talk about Gerard.
GERARD, WHO IS IN A CAFE SIPPING ESPRESSO.
Gerard is a middle-aged Parisian man with a long thin mustache and a beret. The beret was given to him by his father shortly before his father died. Gerard has no last name. Gerard has no father.
GERARD, WHO IS ACTUALLY A SUPERHERO.
Gerard does not remember when he got his powers. Possibly last year, possibly a few years back. In Paris, time passes like molasses and Gerard does not own a calendar. He does not own a television either.
IN HIS FREE TIME, GERARD READS NEWSPAPERS AND BOOKS.
Gerard’s favorite flavor of espresso is vanilla. He sips it hunched over his usual outdoors table. The table’s sleek black umbrella covers his sleek body, hunched over his tiny cup of coffee on its tinier saucer. He picks up the cup handle with his forefinger and thumb, brings it to his lips, and tilts. He drinks coffee as we dream people should.
GERARD SOMETIMES FIGHTS CRIME.
When he sees a lady being mugged, Gerard unconsciously feels his mustache and sprints into action. Running across the softly lit streets of Paris at dusk, he looks not unlike a black-and-white Luigi. “Stop, sir!” he cries in beautifully enunciated French, which is probably something like “Monsieur, sacre bleu!”
GERARD KNOWS FRENCH COMPETENTLY, NOT LIKE US.
The criminal unhands the lady and sprints away. Gerard rushes to catch the woman as she faints. Her eyes flutter open at his touch.
“Oh, Gerard,” she says breathlessly, “it’s you.”
Gerard is famous among the Parisians, even he knows that now and cannot deny it.
“Yes, ma’am.” (What is that, “Oui, madame?” Tsk, tsk.)
GERARD IS SINGLE, HE HAS REASONS.
At age thirty, Gerard lost his wife. His wife was as sleek as he was, but more angular and vivacious. She wore dresses that fit just perfectly. Gerard remembers her tinkling laugh as he helped her into and out of them. Gerard remembers all the times she ever kissed him (7,381,281), especially the last one as she passed on in the hospital. She had full lips that always seemed bigger than his. She is missed.
GERARD IS A SUPERHERO IN SMALL WAYS, MOSTLY.
Gerard remembers walking past the small child sitting on the curb, his head in his arms. He leans down to this child and talks to him in a low murmur. He whispers, “You did the right thing.” to him, stands up, and walks away. The words are almost no comfort at all, but they are the best, if not the only, conduit by which anyone can reach the boy, who is distant and lonely and lost. That is all we can hope for. That is all we can be.