Outside the Mirage

#14: Ice Cream Sundaes

Vanessa knocked on the door of her parents' house. She was tired and cold, but she needed to see her parents. After a minute, her father came to the door, wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants. He looked over his daughter with concern. "V? What's wrong? It's almost midnight, dear."

"I just needed to see you," she said. "Can I come in?"

"Yes, of course," Mark said.

Ushering his daughter into the house, she sat down on the couch, looking at the television as it played some black and white movie. Mark closed the door and went to the kitchen. Vanessa sat there, watching the movie while trying to figure out what she was going to say. Her poor father was sick and she knew that a cure of his illness existed but that she couldn't give it to him. She wanted nothing more than to just go home and avoid her family forever, to avoid having to look them in the eyes and know she could've helped her father when no one else could and yet she was unable to do so. The feeling made her shudder, the same shudder she had been attempting to evade since that afternoon when she had argued with Merlyn.

"You know," Mark said, walking into the room with two bowls, "when you were a kid, anytime you were upset, no matter what had happened, I always knew what to do. I would go into the kitchen and prepare two--"

"Ice cream sundaes?" Vanessa said, smiling weakly at him. "Yeah, I know. You're a great dad."

Mark smiled and handed Vanessa a bowl of ice cream with caramel and fudge. "You don't come around as often as you used to, but I always make sure we have it here, just in case. Ann tries to tell me we don't need to keep it stocked, but clearly it comes in handy."

Vanessa took a bite of the sundae and closed her eyes. It tasted like so many memories, of her father staying up with her after she stood someone up at prom or the time she thought she was pregnant or after the first time she got drunk and was worried she'd get grounded. This was their tradition, she thought, eating ice cream together after she felt terrible.

"So, what happened?" Mark asked. "You don't have to tell me."

"Just some dumb stuff at work," Vanessa said.

Mark nodded knowingly.

The two of them sat there, eating ice cream and watching the black and white film, not really speaking to each other. After a while, they both finished their ice cream and put their bowls on the coffee table. Vanessa curled up, putting her head against Mark's shoulder and tucking her knees to her chest as they watched the movie together. At the end of the movie, her dad nodded a few times and muttered to himself, "That was a good one."

"Dad," Vanessa said.

Mark looked at his daughter. "Yes?"

"What if...what if I knew I could do something to help someone?"

"What do you mean?"

Vanessa sighed. "Like. I don't know. Superman."

"Superman?"

"Like Superman can help everyone, right? He's got all the powers and he can save people from basically anything."

"I guess that's true, yes."

"So, if I was Superman. Wouldn't it be my job to save those people? No matter what? Even if it sometimes meant putting other people at risk?"

Mark mulled that over in his head for a second. "Why would it be your job to save people?"

"Because if you have the power to save people you should."

"That's not always true," Mark said. "Just because you have the power to do something doesn't mean you should take it. Maybe that means saving people too."

Vanessa looked at him. "Yeah?"

"But if you wanted to save people, if you did take that task on, I don't think the rest of it matters. Saving lives is a noble thing, a worthy goal. But even if you were Superman, you couldn't save everyone. Sometimes you can't save everyone. You just have to save everyone you can."

"But is it saving a life if you have to kill someone else to do it?" Vanessa asked. "If I had to trade one life for another, is that the right thing to do?"

"Trading lives?" Mark asked. "These are heavy questions, V."

"I'm a heavy person," Vanessa grumbled.

Mark shrugged. "Well, I don't know, V."

"You don't know?"

"I know that if you're Superman, I'm supposed to be Pa Kent," Mark said. "But the problem is, I just don't know. I don't know if its more right to save one life at the expense of another or not. I just don't."

Vanessa smiled at him. "You're the best dad, you know that?"

Mark chuckled. "It didn't really feel like it."

"Well, it's true. You were the best. You have always been there when I needed it. Prom and the pregnancy scare and all of it."

"Do you remember the first time?" Mark asked. "I mean, you were really little. Maybe four or five. Actually, you were probably younger, Ann was pregnant with Claire. But you were a chubby little kid."

"I'm a chubby adult."

"Hush. You were a bit chunky and a couple girls at your daycare, I think, they had picked on you about it."

"What and ice cream was the answer? Great thinking, pops."

"No. It wasn't when they made fun of you that you came to me. It was the next day, when they made fun of you and you punched one of those girls in the face. She dropped to the ground with all the might of a toddler's punch. You busted her lip and we weren't allowed to bring you back to that daycare again, but you thought you killed that girl. You cried and cried about it, about how you wished you had been able to just get your point across with killing her."

"I was a very articulate child," Vanessa noted.

Mark rolled his eyes. "My point is, you're a good person. I know it probably doesn't always feel like it. But you are."

"Oh yeah? Because one time I regretted killing someone?"

"Everytime you come here like this," Mark said, "it's because you feel guilty. Not sad, not angry, but guilty. And I think feeling guilt is probably one of the biggest parts of being a good person."

"Guilt? Why?"

"Because if you don't feel regret or remorse or pain at being someone who does things that make others feel bad," Mark started, "then maybe you're a bad person. Guilt is a mark of character."

Vanessa thought about that for a minute. "Dad, I love you."

"I love you too, dear. Are you gonna stay here tonight?"

"Yeah, if that's okay?"

"That's perfectly fine with me. I'll drive you to work in the morning?"

"Thanks, Dad."