A MOMENT IN TIME
By CW Blaine
e-mail at darth_yoshi@yahoo.com
If I could freeze time, capture a moment and save it, or better yet, live in it forever, it would be this moment. I would never leave. I don't want to leave now. I silently pray to God to extend time just for me. It's selfish, I know, but right now, I don't care.
When I'm near her, my pulse quickens and I can feel
my body temperature rise. I even shake a little, especially when we are this
close. The master of self-control, Mr. Bruce Wayne, the Batman, raised me and
Heaven knows that I should be able to control myself in this situation.
But I can't. I don't want to.
I've stared death in the face hundreds of times.
I've been shot, stabbed, and beaten within an inch of my life, and I've never been
afraid. I've been trained by the best to be the best. In fact, you'd be
hard-pressed to find someone better at my job than me. But, when she looks at
me, when her hand touches mine, when I can feel the presence of her body next
to mine, I'm so afraid that the moment will end. I know it will, and so I am in
constant fear of that time when the moment will stop.
I reach my hand up to touch her cheek, and it knocks
a strand of her red hair out of the way. The action causes her perfume to rise
ever so slightly and I drink it in. It's always the same perfume, almost as if
she only wears it for me. When we first met, when I was but a lad of 15 and she
a young woman of 17, she was wearing it. I could always tell where she had been
by the smell, even though at first she tried to avoid the Batman and I. When he
finally accepted her into our extended family, she would wear it all the times
she was in her Batgirl costume. After I had moved away to New York, Bruce told
me she had stopped wearing it. When I returned, so did the perfume.
They say that certain smells trigger memories, and
all of the memories that I have of that perfume all involve her. Whenever I
smell it, I can only think of her. All I want to think of is her.
In an instant, I imagine what my life could be like,
how I truly want it to be. I want my heart to race this fast, to have this
light-headed feeling all of the time.
But it won't last.
How many times have I wanted to tell her my true
feelings? Does she already know? Does she suspect? Does she realize how I'll
lie awake at night, after my patrol, thinking about her and how badly I need
her? Does she know my pain? Does she know my guilt?
Our lips touch and I swear I feel electricity
running through my body. I'm aroused, but not in a dirty, carnal way. No, it's
almost like looking upon the face of God, a feeling of such peace that I want
to die right here, right now. I know that when my time does come to journey
beyond this life, I want to be like this, stuck forever in an embrace of love.
But, is that love reciprocated? Does she love me?
The truth is that I don't know, and the pangs hit me
just as hard as they always do. I push them back because this moment is mine. I
reach for it like a hungry man reaches for bread. Her lips nourish me emotionally,
and I want more. I want so bad to press the moment, to move my hand from her
face down to her hand. I want to take it, I want to get down on my knees and
tell her what she is to me. She is my light, my beacon, and my grace from the
Lord. I want to walk into the sunset with her.
But that can't happen. She can't walk.
And it's my fault.
The moment presses on in my mind as I fight the
inner demons that assault me, remind me that I am unworthy of this moment that
her sweet kisses are deserving of men of more courage than me. I am a coward
and she is the one I fear.
So afraid of my feelings for her that I let myself
run away. I ran from Gotham and into the arms of another. Then another. And
another. And even more after that.
Does she know that whenever I made love to another
woman, I was thinking of her? Does she even care? Did I hurt her when I tried
to marry another woman? Does she know that deep down inside that I am happy
that my relationship to Kory did not work out? Does she realize that no matter
how hard I try, I can't get her out of my mind?
If I had been honest with her from the beginning,
maybe she would have been with me instead of her father when the Joker
attacked. Maybe I would have even been there to take the bullet that shattered
her spinal cord, leaving her bound to that damned wheelchair. Does she know how
bad I wish I had been the one who had been shot, how I would trade places with
her in an instant, without hesitation?
Our eyes lock and in them I see the life I want so
badly. Deep in them, I become lost in a fantasy of cold winter nights in front
of a fireplace, and warm summer days playing with children in the front yard.
When I'm old, I want her to be there with me, not as a friend, but as my soul
mate.
The moment is coming close to the end, and I will it
to last longer. I don't want to be denied, I don't want to lose her. Here, in
this moment, there is no Nightwing; there is no Batman, no Batgirl, no Joker,
only her and I. For this one period of time, out of the infinite periods there
are, I have her. She's mine and I don't want to give her up.
She begins to pull away, the moment having reached
its climax and I pray and beg God to kill me now, because without her, I don't
want to go on. It's too hard to get up every day and not see her lying next to
me. I don't just love her. I exist only for her. I convinced myself a long time
ago that my only purpose in life is to be with her.
But she makes it so hard. She stops it when we get
too close, just as she is ending my moment right now. There is never a clear
and concise explanation, and she is always leaving me wanting more and more.
Our lips part and I try to inhale her breath, trying
to mix her air with mine, so that even though we aren't touching, we are still
together. Her hand reaches up to mine and I want to cry out. I want to scream
to the whole world that I love her.
But I don't. The coward deep inside of me won't
allow it.
And then its over. She releases my hand and looks at
me from behind her glasses and the dark truth, the reality I escaped for only
an instant, overwhelms me. I look up at the green twig hanging over her head.
"Merry Christmas, Barbara," I say softly.
Batman stands at the window, speaking with the Black
Canary and Robin. I straighten up and catch my former mentor looking at me. I
think I'm the only person in the world that can read his eyes, and I can tell
he feels sorry for me. He knows how I feel, and for once, there is nothing the
Batman can do.
The kiss had lasted only two seconds at most, but in
those two seconds, I lived a lifetime of happiness. I block the despair with
the knowledge that if I can keep myself alive, I can have this moment again in
one year's time.
I walk over to the window and begin to head out,
wishing happy holidays to everyone. I cast a glance at Barbara, wishing that I
had telepathic powers.
I can't read her face. She doesn't want me to.
I head off into the night, slowly making my way back
to Bludhaven, reminiscing about my one moment, and thankful that I had it to
even remember.