Traditional news never seems to get things quite right. Pieces are always missing from the puzzle, little questions cropping up after every newscast. The internet has the answer to everything, and that is why he turns to it. Twitter and Facebook are not afraid of telling the truth if you're willing to fact check the things you see. He's known about the supers for so long. They're hard to ignore, especially when they're fighting gods in the sky and leaving unicorns around. They explode, they scream, they go back for more and Cooper knows to leave well enough alone. He stays away because that is the easiest way to keep his loved ones safe. It's the only way, really. But he can't help himself watching as things develop. Strange events. The mysterious glow popping up around the city and the increase in violence in the streets seem to be the biggest news online this month, and Cooper is glad that his life is simple and that, when he is not at school, Jeremiah is happy to be at home.
As far as Cooper knows, Jules has the same perspective. They are not best friends, but two people who know each other well just because they've had to raise a child together. Yet Cooper can feel that something is wrong. There has never been a day in the entirety of Jeremiah's life that she has not spoken to him. She even found the time to call when she was on vacation in paradise. Jules is fastidious and easily anxious. Every single night at 6:45pm, Jules makes that phone call so she can wish Jeremiah a good night and Cooper finds that it is much easier to calm the nerves of their equally fastidious and anxious child after that phone call.
When the phone call does not come, it is not Jeremiah who notices. It is Cooper who begins to pace back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, grabbing a beer, putting it back, sighing as he goes to get it again. He checks the screen of his cell phone ten times before he dials her number. When it goes straight to voicemail, he looks at the screen again as if it might explain exactly what is happening. He catches the voicemail message again right at the beep and stumbles through his message, politely requesting that she call him back. There is a long break of silence before he says goodbye that betrays his concern.
"I'm sure Mumma will call soon, bud," Cooper tells Jeremiah as he settles on the floor next to where his son is smashing together thin pancakes of Play-Doh before squeezing them together into a technicolor boulder. The boy has not yet asked about his mother. He is focused intently on a mountain of bright buildings, crumbling in some places, drying in others, his little fingers creating a whole society of dough. When the little boy turns to him, it is with green, unconcerned eyes that are so much like his mother's.
"It's okay," the boy tells him, reaching over to pat Cooper's hands with his own tiny salty ones. "Mama is fighting bad guys. She'll call when they're gone."
The dark night is even darker in his office that night. Beyond the light of his laptop, there is nothing but blackness and confusion. He has watched a hundred videos, most of them very obviously not featuring the girl he'd met at a party five years ago. There are times, though, when he can't tell if his exhaustion is playing games with him or if he is seeing Jules's face in the shaky background. The story Jeremiah told him, the way he so plainly explained that his mother was fighting bad guys, makes Cooper's stomach roll every time he thinks about it. He knows he has no right to know everything about the mother of his child, but this seems like something he should be aware of. Jeremiah is not the sort of child who makes up stories. He is woefully logical at times and likes the truth more than any story. But a child's logic could build things where nothing had been built before. It could create worlds where there had once been clay.
It was nearly 3am when Cooper finds it. As he watches the video, he rubs his stubbled chin then reaches up to tug at his unkempt hair. It is from a distance and shaky. The woman doesn't walk like Jules, but she's built the same way. If they are not the same woman, they look as if they could have been built from the same mold. With her black hood up, it's easy to focus on the sudden appearance of green goblin-like man where a human man had once been. He watches it twice. Then a third time. On that third try, he catches a slip of brown hair and then high cheekbones and then a flash of one of the clearest green eyes he's ever seen in his life.
Jules arrives at his door at exactly 8am that Sunday. She has never once been late for any meeting they set up together, and in the last five days, Cooper has begun to see that as a character flaw. When a person is reliable, it is easy to find out when they're lying to you even if you are more than content to stay ignorant. She arrives with a smile on her face, obviously very excited to see her son. Their son. The son that they have created together and now must care for together. He tries hard not to be furious at her for this, but there have been so many chances. The video is nearly a year old.
Cooper watches Jules stoop down to pick up Jeremiah and kiss his face until the little boy wiggles away, high-pitched laughter escaping him. Normally, this hand-off is smooth and friendly. They meet at the door, Cooper hands her a cup of coffee if Jeremiah is in a bad mod. They chat about the week, share stories and try to one-up each other. This time, Cooper stands there stone-faced and quiet. Cooper is not a stoic man. He likes to have fun. He likes stupid humor and bad movies. But something changed in that video and now he doesn't know how to approach her. She notices almost immediately, giving him a concerned look as she lets Jeremiah back down onto his tiny Vans.
"Come inside, Jules. We need to talk."