Traction

It was the weirdest feeling, watching Clark on TV. Knowing who it was wearing the cape and the person behind all the apprehended criminals and rescued civilians. Bit by bit, he had come out to the public. First, as an indecipherable blue and red blur, then an evolved, yet hazy image of a human—well, human-looking at least—and finally his entire form with clarity—blue outfit, cape, boots and all.

News outlets named him Superman. Understandable, but could they at least get a little creative with the name? Yes, there was an 's' looking symbol on his chest, but really now. Superman?

Her millennial self cringed when she first heard it and felt kind of embarrassed on his behalf. She knew that he would have to deal with that moniker forever, or at least until his real identity was exposed, but even then, it was too catchy for news media to give up.

Over two months had passed since their encounter, and it made Aisha wish that she had gotten some form of contact information from him. But she didn't, so the future of their relationship depended solely on him. Except that was a bit of a lie because if she wanted, she could have looked for him as well, and with her powers it would be heck of a lot easier to. On the other hand, she wasn't adamant or obsessed on knowing him and stalking someone was definitely not a line she ever wanted to cross. Her powers already made it invasive for everyone else, and as a conservative person, it made her incredibly uncomfortable being able to hear, see, and smell every detail about them. Just the thought of following someone went against her whole being and made her disgusted.

As much as she sincerely wanted to know him since he was the only Kryptonian she had ever met, and most likely the only one she ever would, she could take a hint. Either he regretted that he revealed his identity to her, didn't want to know her, or didn't care enough to—although she kind of doubted the last one, since he too seemed really interested at the time.

So she waited in bated breath for the first few days, hoping that he would make a move. Then days passed and her excitement eventually turned to pure disappointment. By the tenth day, she almost wished that their meeting had never happened because at least she wouldn't be carrying the awareness of someone like her out there but them not wanting to see her.

Their encounter was losing it's place in her thoughts everyday, but it didn't leave her mind. Treasuring it as one of most monumental moments of her life was the last thing she decided to do after one day of heavy contemplation. After that, it was time to move on. As much as she wished differently, she couldn't place all her hope on someone like Clark who easily ran at a moments notice.

At least she had the opportunity of finding someone like her and being able to meet them. She kept telling herself to feel fortunate of that, and kept repeating it in her head, hoping that if she said it enough she would believe it.

Life continued as it were, almost as if nothing ever happened at all, but she was reminded once and a while when she was saw posts or news articles on her phone. Aisha ignored her TV entirely, not that she watched much anyway, but she did that because she knew that the only topic that channels ever seemed to be interested in was Superman. It saved her from thinking about him and potentially becoming melancholic.

Thankfully, she was up to her ears in exams and had diverted all her attention into studying. Additionally, her job also ended up consuming a lot of time. When she decided to work at her father's place, it was to have some extra cash in her pocket since he payed for almost everything else, but when her brothers married and founded businesses of their own across the country, it fell of her to shoulder on its responsibilities.

Her father began to assign more tasks to her, like taking care of calls, bills, insurance, health codes, and checking in with other employees. Even though he didn't explicitly say it, it was obvious that he was preparing her to take over.

As was the sharia of Islam, a portion of the business was supposed to be given to her brothers as well, but they had expressed their willingness to allow her takeover. Already completely occupied with their growing company, they decided that they didn't really need their father's small mini market.

"Your sure that you don't mind."

"Completely. Don't worry, Aisha. I can put it down in writing if you want."

"No, that's really no—"

"I'm going to call dad's lawyer and put it under your name."

"Ibrahim, I'm telling you. That's unnecessary."

"If something happens and my baby sister has to find a job to sustain herself, then I have failed as a brother and a Muslim. You need something stable to support you in your life."

"I still believe that you deserve your share."

"My share? In a few years, my share will be nothing in comparison to what my company will be making. And, insha'allah, if one of the big names buy me and Musa out, it's gonna be one hell of a pay day." Ibrahim said to her. "Just take it. In the future, your children will thank you for it."

Aisha sighed loudly but didn't argue further. "I love you and I miss you. How is Fatimah and the kids?"

"Alhamdullilah, busy as usual. The kids are fine too." There was a sound of shuffling paper in the background. "You should come tomorrow. How many days since it's the last time I've seen you?"

"Like 8 or 9 days, but that was because you were at work when I came to visit."

"I keep telling you that I don't care if you come see me at the company."

"That's unprofessional. Work's where work is done and home is for family."

Her brother scoffed. "Who cares! The kids see me all the time."

With that, she had nothing to say. She couldn't deny a man from seeing his own children in the business he owned.

"Plus, Musa does the same." All of a sudden, there was a pitter patter of small feet and hushed scolding in the backdrop. "Abbas, you're spreading chalk all over the house. Let's go to the bathroom and clean your hands and feet. Oh wow, your mother is not going to be happy when she sees this."

"Everything good?" Aisha asked with a smile. She was personally aware of all the antics that her nephews got up to. Babysitting them was always something that she looked forward to because they were such troublemakers and absolutely loved creating havoc in the backyard. When given an object, they were always able to either break something or make it dirty.

Ibrahim laughed, mostly of amusement but also a hint of exasperation. "Yeah, it's just that Abbas just got some of the chalk for the sidewalk and has been drawing at the patio. Subhanallah, I did not know that a child could age so quickly." Then to Abbas, "Look at your hair, old man. It's all white!"

"I'm no' ol' man! I'm thwee!" A high pitched voice with a heavy lisp came from Aisha's phone.

"Three is really old in my book." Ibrahim told him with a laugh in his voice. "It's about time you get a job, bro."

Aisha smiled as she listened to them go back and forth, then as Abbas was washed and returned to his mother to be fed lunch.

"Tell the family that I'll see them on Friday." She said as she checked the calendar on her phone. There was one appointment in the morning that she had to attend for a health inspection the mini market, but it wouldn't get in the way of anything considering her alternative method of travel. The rest of the day would be free and so would be the day after, in case she decided to sleep over—which was usually the case because the kids always would beg her to stay longer.

"Sounds good. We were planning to have a barbecue that day so Musa will be over with Umaya."

"Alright, sounds good. I'll see you them. Salam."

"Salam."

The Muslim woman pocketed her phone and stood up from her seat. After packing all her belongings away, she wore her shoulder bag and left a tip on the table, ignoring the occasional glances made by other customers in the coffee shop.

Being a genetically engineered baby was one of the most bizarre things she had learned about her heritage. Then she also realized that her parents had chosen all her features and characteristics even before her production. Her stunning facial features and tall, yet sturdy, body were carefully and purposefully picked to create the perfect child. This revelation made her feel almost fake, as if she were lying to herself and everyone around, but then she told herself that she wouldn't be who she was without looking like she did. Instead, she turned her thoughts to gratitude and thanked God for providing her with such a blessed body.

Although with a form like hers also came a lot of unwanted attention. Thankfully, her hijab did a lot to deter men from approaching her, but there also came a few ignorant or cocky men who did anyway. Innocent, but not at all naive, she spoke to them casually and gave hints to leave her alone. Many moved on after that, but there were three men, all in separate circumstances, who were insistent in knowing her. In those instances, she quickly walked away and disappeared into thin air once she was out of line of sight.

It was incredibly uncomfortable to be pursued so doggedly like that. Still, she was comforted with the fact that she was actually the person who had more power in the situation and could easily protect herself if they tried anything.

Yet, there were still times when she felt like a hijab was't enough and wanted to wear a niqab to protect herself from the piercing stares and repeated glances.

Like now, as a man in the corner of the shop continued to stare at her throughout the call with her brother. She ignored him completely, doing her best to seem uninterested and not give him any opportunity to talk to her.

What got her attention was when she opened the door to exit into the cold night and heard the rustling of his clothing and the creaking of a chair. He was standing the moment she decided to leave, which made her slightly suspicious of his intentions.

Interested in what he was about to do, she decided to bait him and began walking down the darkly lit street where the crowd thinned. To her surprise, he stopped to look around, air whooshing around his head which informed her of the motion, and also began walking her direction. Never the type to assume the worst of anyone, she gave him another chance made a turn into a secluded ally where she waited for him to pass.

He didn't and stumbled a little when he saw her waiting for him.

Now that she had turned all her attention to him for the first time, she found him at 5'11, the same height as her. He was also slightly better than average looking, with dark eyes and a strong jaw.

He stared at her for a few moments and then came rushing at her. Time slowed down for Aisha as she watched him move to throw her down with his heavy body. It reminded her of being tackled by a footballer and made her think that he did have the wide build for it.

Lightly, she tapped cheek with her fist during his mid-lunge and knocked him out instantly.

His body flew to the side and slammed against the wall with a loud thud, his head also hitting it with a sickening crack. As he slumped on the floor, she cringed at the sight. Quickly, she got over her horror and crouched near his body. Patting at his pockets, she tried to find his wallet or any form of identification.

He only had a wad of cash and his phone that was password protected, so she set that aside next to him.

Aisha scanned him one last time with her x-ray vision and realized that she wasn't going to get more out of the man. She took her phone from her pocket and pressed the emergency button.

"911, how can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm calling because a man was following me from a coffee shop. He's here in front of me unconscious. Porten Street, between building 4980 and 4982."

"Okay, ma'am. I ask that you remove yourself from the premises. We'll be there shortly."

Aisha shut her phone before the operator would add another word and waited at the sidewalk not to far from the scene. She stayed behind as the policemen drew out their guns and approached the alley.

Carefully, they searched the unconscious man and then check his vitals. As she took in the situation, there was a swoosh of a cape from behind her and a low, concerned voice. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said without a hint of fear in her voice.

He took a few steps to stand next to her. There was silence until the officers came up to her and began to ask questions, doing their best to ignore the looming superhero in front of them. They did well taking her statement and had not lost much of the professionalism that they were desperately trying to maintain.

To Clark's surprise, if his curious glances said anything, Aisha weaved a story about how Superman had come to her rescue from nowhere and saved her from being assaulted. Thankfully, everything added up, from Superman already being on the scene with them at the moment to how the heavy blow on the criminal couldn't have been thrown by a woman of her stature. She also knew that when they interrogated the criminal, he would not be able to point her out as the one culprit because she had been too fast for him to have seen her do it.

They easily accepted her words and when asked for Superman's statement, he reiterated everything but from his own perspective just as smoothly. Once it was over, they offered to give her a ride home but Clark immediately spoke up. "I'll take it from here, officers."

"Uhh-we, we can't do that, sir." One of them told him firmly, albeit a little nervously.

Aisha sighed. "It's okay. I'll go with him. Thank you so much for your help, officers."

They looked at each other hesitantly. One shrugged as the other released a breath and relented. How in the world could they argue with Superman?

With the officer's dismissal, the two Kryptonians walked in the direction of Aisha's car.

"How have you been?" She began quietly.

Superman jolted a little, not expecting her to begin that way. "Good, thanks for asking. You?"

"Fine."

He winced a little at the kindly stated, yet flat answer.

They reached her car in silence and Aisha made her way inside the driver's seat. She closed the door and then sighed to herself after a moment of "why me"s. Pushing a button on the door made the window wind down and revealed a glum looking Superman.

"I'm sorry." Where the only two words he said, but she could read the dozen things implied in them.

Aisha stared straight into his crystal, blue eyes. Even though the hurt she tried so hard to kill came rushing back to her all at once, she still couldn't ignore his sincere apology. "It's okay."

With nothing else to say, she turned on her car with the engine breaking the night's silence. "I wish you the best of luck."

Clark realized the resignation in her tone of voice and pursed his lips. "Thanks, you too." Then he disappeared, but Aisha tracked him with her keen eyes until he truly had vanished into the sky.

In her mind, she accepted this to be the last and final time that she would ever see him. Right now, she was too sensitive to give another try at being acquainted. Too much hope had been given on her part—not that it was any of his fault—and she wanted some time to herself to lick her wounds.

On her way driving home, she felt a little numb as everything had caught up to her. Her mind kept flipping from the near assault to her interaction with the other Kryptonian. Thoughts turning darker and darker when she began imagining scenarios where she didn't have powers to her disposal.

There were actually many times where she had gotten in the middle when other people where being harassed or assaulted, but she never thought she would ever have been on the receiving end of it. It was still shocking to think that if it where any other woman, they probably wouldn't have gotten out of it unscathed.

Those thoughts consumed her mind as she made it home and made a cup of tea for herself. Her actions were methodical as she stared blankly at the process.

"Aisha?" Her mother questioned when she found her in the kitchen holding a cooling cup of tea limply in her hands.

"Hmm?" She turned to her mother distractedly.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, ma." She replied softly.

Her mother moved on to open the fridge, which must have meant her dismissal of the topic, and took out a plate of leftovers. "How was your day?"

"Great. Everything was perfect."

Just perfect.