Re-Finding Steve

Not Quite Normal

Chapter 2- Steve 

             The air in Washington was clearer than what I was used to in New York. It helped my asthma a great deal, but still I had the daily tightening in my chest. I hated that feeling, as if I was on the edge of an attack. I guess it was just something I had to get used to again.

               Sadly, I had to get used to all the medications for the numerous illnesses I forgot I ever had. My throat hurt after swallowing all the pills the shield scientists had given me to take every morning, afternoon, and night. There were those for my asthma, the anemia, and more than I wanted to think about.

               There were also those for the side effects from Project Rebirth. I didn’t truly believe any of it would help me become the Captain again but I took the supplements to humor the people down in the labs.

               The scientists were so obsessed with my condition that they created an excessive diet plan that they monitored. I kept track of everything I ate in a journal that contained all of my other stats. I sent it to Stark Tower every month, along with a blood sample and letters to the team. I still wasn’t that big of a fan of emails.

               I still felt like a lab rat, more so now than after Project Rebirth in the first place. I wake up and start my day by recording how much sleep I got that night. Then I went to the bathroom for a shower and to measure my weight. Once dressed, I would make breakfast and record all of it into that darn journal. Today I was having simple scrambled eggs, toast, and milk. Nothing too exciting for the lab to read.

               By the time I even leave the apartment, I feel sick and tired of the journal securely packed in my bag right next to my art supplies and even more medicine.

               Today was the first official day of classes. I was so confused about my emotions that I wasn’t sure how I felt. I assumed I was excited, but in reality it seemed like I was preparing to step into a battlefield. Why was something that normal people every day with ease seem so strange and terrifying to me? Was it because I wasn’t used to being normal anymore?

               Pulling my jacket closer around myself, I started the short walk from my apartment to the campus. The leaves were just beginning to fall yet I was freezing cold. I found it ironic how the man who was frozen for seventy years was now shivering in sixty degree weather.

               I walked into my psychology class half an hour early. I was the first to arrive, so I took the liberty to choose a seat in the back row by the wall. More students began to trickle in as I organized my spot. That’s when I heard her.

               “Mister Steve!” Denver said a bit too loudly from the door way. I felt myself tense as I looked over to her. She gave me a wide smile and a quick wave. I think I may have smiled back. I wasn’t sure of it though. Her amount of energy in the morning was disturbing.

               I wasn’t sure what to make of Denver when I first met her. Weird was the first word to pop into my head. I was still trying to determine if it was a bad thing or not. She seemed nice though. Truthfully, she was the first person I had a real conversation with since arriving. I wouldn’t have even bothered if she wasn’t so persistent in making me talk. Finally, I decided it was best to just indulge her with a few words. Little did I know it would lead to my first ‘normal’ friendship since the 1940’s.

Well, to be honest, Denver didn’t seem quite normal.

               She made her way across the class to take the seat next to mine. She dropped the bag on top of the table but didn’t stand down. Instead she chooses to shift her weight from one foot to the other as she dug for her materials in her backpack.

               “I thought you were an art student? Didn’t expect to share any classes with ya.” Denver said while pulling out every color of highlighter possible from her bag.

               I shrugged simply. “It seemed like an interesting class. I can’t graduate with art classes alone.” I said in a light way, watching as she walked around the row to pace in the row in front of me. She was reminding me more of an energetic puppy by the minute.

               “It’s a great class. I took one like it in high school and loved it. Knowing about the mind and how it ticks is fascinating. Helps explain a lot of things we never really noticed before. Trust me when I say, Freud is gonna blow your mind.” Denver said, a secretive grin curling at her lips. I had no clue who Freud was and wasn’t sure I wanted to by how Denver laughed at my expression.

               “Don’t worry. The professor will ease you into the class before he dumps Freud on you. Don’t want to twist your mind too badly.” She said, pulling her hair out of its ponytail before putting it back up more sloppily then it was before. A few seconds later, she did it again.

               “Are you ok?” I asked, noticing again as she began to pull the rubber band out of her hair to fix her hair.

               “Yeah, just nervous. Kind of like before a game, where I can’t sit down cause I’m both excited and terrified. Dad always said it was the body’s fight or flight system kicking in. I get it pretty bad.” Denver laughed, her pacing slowing down and letting her hair hang in lose waves of chocolate as she noticed how franticly she was moving.

               “What game do you play?” I asked, actually trying to start a conversation for once. The team would be proud of me, actually talking to a dame in all.

               “Softball. Well, I did. You can only play for so long in college before you have to put your career dreams first.” Denver said. I could literally see the tension starting to seep away as she began talking about the game. I could tell she loved the game.

               “I really like baseball myself, but I was always too sick to play as a kid.” I admitted, feeling proud how I was able to tell the truth without admitting any secrets. “If I could, I’d be a second base men.”

               “I was never good enough at diving for second. I was a pitcher and first base men. I was mainly a pitcher though. I was so dumb when I was little, thinking I’d just walk onto the rubber and start pitching. It took me years before I was any good.” Denver said, shaking her head in humor at herself. A happy grin spread across her face in memory. “I did make my Mom happy as a Drunk in a liquor store though. She may have loved the game more than I did.” Denver said, laughing. “The umpire’s hated her. She was always the loudest parent on the bleachers. You could even hear her in the outfield.”

               “My friend Bucky was like that. He used to embarrass me so bad whenever we went to a game. His face would turn red as he screamed at the blues.” I laughed. Denver joined the laughter as well. I found myself pausing and listening to her laugh. It was high, broken by sheer amusement, and so true sounding. She wasn’t laughing to be nice, she was laughing because she actually thought it was funny. Maybe having Denver as a friend wouldn’t be a bad thing.

               The Professor walked in and Denver quickly walked around the table to sit next to me. I beginning writing the date and teachers name when she turned to me.

               “Steve?” She asked, almost shy as she whispered to me. I kept my eyes forward as I answered.

“Yes?” I asked, half distracted as the Professor began to talk.

               “Thanks.” She said, giving me a kind smile and holding onto my eyes as blue met hazel.

“What for?” I asked, eyebrows knotting in confusion

               “For helping me calm down. And for understanding.” She said, her smile growing a little more wide before she returned her attention to the Professor. Again, I found myself starring at her before smiling to myself. Having Denver as a friend could defiantly be a good thing.

               “Your welcomed.”