You don’t remember me do you?

We’ve met before. Several times actually. We’ve worked together for several years.

Really.

No, I’m not kidding.

Listen, it’s not your fault. I have super powers. Well, more like a single super power. I have the ability to slip completely from people’s minds the instant they look away from me.

Yes. I am serious.

I can prove it to you. Look at my eyes, paying particular attention to the color. Got it? They’re blue — very basic blue. Got it? Good. Blue, right?

Now turn away from me. Picture my eyes in your head and tell me what color they are.

Go ahead — I’ll give you a few minutes. Let me know when you realize you can’t do it.

Amazing, isn’t it. It’s my super power — the power of immediate forgetability.  I know what you’re thinking — not much of a super power. That’s what I used to think, too. I was constantly wracking my brain trying to find some use for it. Then I figured it out, but so did the government, and it turned into a very…messy…situation.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Would you like to hear the whole story? I think it’s pretty good. And if you don’t like it, it doesn’t really matter because it’ll leave your head within five minutes of you getting up from this table.

Let me start at the beginning.

—————————————————————

The signs were there early on, but I didn’t see it coming. Home life was fine — I was the apple of my mother’s eye. She thought I could do anything I sent my mind to, and, foolishly, I bought into it.

Then I went to elementary school where I was mixed in with other children. I held my own in those early years, being somewhat smart and quick to grasp on to basic concepts. By fifth grade I was known as one of the top five “smart kids” in school, which, socially anyway, was good for some bullying and not much else.

Mind you I wasn’t the smartest in the school — even then I couldn’t hit the top of the list. I had a few talents that singled me out in grammar school. I was fairly smart, could draw decently, and knew every plotline of all the major comic books. However, with each successive year I lost part of what set me apart.

Half of the elementary schools in the district combined when it came time for seventh grade and junior high school. Suddenly there were dozens of kids who were smarter and more talented than me. Knowledge of comic book plots now earned ridicule, and, even in this arena, there were plenty of kids more knowledgable than me.

I think this is the point where I started to disappear.

Like the X-Men comic books where the mutant’s powers manifest themselves in puberty, my forgetability kicked in around 13 years old, although it would take a little longer to become immediate.

These were the years where kids were finding what they were best at and doing it. I wasn’t as good as the other artists, didn’t fully envelope myself in pop culture like the geeks did, and wasn’t a full-fledged 12-hour a day gamer. I touched all the worlds, but not enough to fit in.

By high school people were walking into me in the hallways. A lot. If they said anything, it was usually a mumbled, “Sorry, didn’t see you there.” Most often it was an annoyed grunt followed by a shove.

I went to my prom with my 19-year-old cousin. My mother had set the whole thing up with her sister because she thought it was important that I go. It didn’t matter to me either way, and I did get noticed for an evening if only for being next to my really attractive cousin.

The night was memorable for me for another reason — Uber-jock Scott Burke was after my cousin all night and got her drunk on some beer he had smuggled in. He didn’t get anywhere, but got her to the point where she could barely stand. At the end of the night, I managed to get her into the passenger seat of my 6-year-old Nissan hatchback.

I drove her around for a while, not wanting to drop an inebriated daughter off at my aunt’s house. She babbled and dozed and, after two hours of driving around a shut down suburban town, I pulled up to her house.

I went around to the side to help her out. I helped her stand and threw her arm around my shoulder while I placed mine around her waist for support. Her face was close to mine and — despite the stench of beer breath — she still looked and felt good. The same thing must her been going through her mind because she opened her mouth and jammed it over mine.

People will say that you can’t be excited and repulsed at the same time, but I can without a doubt say that they’re wrong. After one passionate, hops-filled kiss, she pulled away, her eyes half shut.

I led her to the door and helped her get inside and lay down on the couch. Fortunately, no one else in the house was awake.

When I got home, I couldn’t sleep — what if my aunt found out. She’d tell my mom and all hell would bust loose. I’d be mortified beyond belief. As it turns out, my worry was for nothing — it was never brought up and, although we didn’t discuss it, I don’t think my cousin remembers anything.

I’m still not sure if it was from the beer or my powers.

Anyway, I began college with solid grades and an unsigned yearbook.

The college years sailed along like everything else in my life — uneventfully. Lots of people pass through college invisibly, so I didn’t feel that out of place. I took to writing, although didn’t excel at it, and got some stories published in the school paper. Since my words were more visible than me, I saw this as a good career choice.

Once out of college, I applied for and got a job as assistant editor for a trade publication for the farming community named Farm Technology Monthly, or FTM for short. We provide our 25,000 readers with information on the latest gadgets available to make their rural lives easier — new combine harvesters, milking machines, egg warmers, irrigation machines, that kind of stuff.

You should know that part because you work for the same publishing company but on a different magazine. You sit three desks away from me, and have for about two and a half years now.

Really.

Anyway, as you know, it’s not the most exciting gig, but it lets me write and edit and function in the real world despite my mutant ability. I’m actually pretty good at it, and now, after seven years, I’m editor of the mag.

So much for the backstory — now let me tell you how I learned how to use my powers.