I begrudgingly got out of bed, pushing my plain brown hair out of my face. I stared at the mirror across the wall. God, I hated that plain brown hair. It was so freaking plain.
My dad said he loved it. Said it was just like his, so it was awesome. I don't know. It looks good on him. Everything does. But nothing looks good on me. Not even his bright green eyes. Sometimes I wonder what I even inherited from my mom: I look just like Dad.
My dad was a good person. He made me laugh, he made me smile, he made me giggle and sometimes even roll around the floor holding my stomach because I was laughing so hard.
I tried so hard to push everything I knew about him to the back of my head. I tried so hard. So. Hard.
He never told me about his "night job". Of course, I'd hear him rant all evening about his wonderful discoveries at Wayne Enterprises, about how he figured out the most amazing invention and how the man in the cubicle to the right always has dramatic phone calls with his wife. But never about his "night job".
I only ever heard about it through the newspapers and the kids at school. But the kids at school barely talked about it. They were scared and their parents hushed them.
"Did you hear about the man on the news last night? The question mark guy?"
"That's the Riddler! He scares the crap out of me. Makes me want to study more and all that..."
"He killed Emma's father, you know. Two nights ago."
"...Really? Emma's? The cop?"
"Yeah, it's scary, isn't it? We could be next."
And I'd think to myself; 'How could anyone be so scared of my dad? He's such a funny guy most of the time, and he was definitely nice enough to me.' And every time I'd ask him why people were so afraid of him, he'd shrug it off, say something silly like, "Scared I'll outsmart them" or "Scared that I'm way better looking".
Sometimes things my dad said really bothered me though.
We were watching TV together; a rare occasion because he was usually at his "night job" and I was usually doing my homework. But tonight was a peaceful night. Nothing much to do. No homework and apparently no work for the Riddler.
My dad seemed to be bored of most everything that was on: nothing satisfied him besides Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune, which didn't come on for another 10 minutes He stopped on a reality show about weight. It made me squirm. I was definitely uncomfortable.
"Look at that fat, blubbering whale. I can't believe people like that really think their lives are good."
Sometimes it felt like my dad forgot that I was overweight, too. He made comments about everyone else, and though he had never said anything directly to me, it hurt me a lot every time he did. I wondered if he even thought about it.
Maybe I wasn't as drastically in need of help as the woman on the screen, but it was definitely enough for me to get teased about it growing up and for me to be self-conscious about it.
Me and my dad have never discussed it whatsoever. No conversations about exercise or healthier eating are ever mentioned. I've never told him when someone would make fun of me at school.
I didn't say anything. I pretended I was asleep, closing my eyes and leaning my head on my shoulder opposite his side. I wanted him to just stop talking or change the channel. Either one, or both, would be very nice.
"I mean, can't people take care of themselves? Oh, I guess not, people these days-so ignorant, so naive. I can't stand it. Am I the only individual who has any intellectual ability whatsoever? Oh, of course you do, Adelaine. I know you do, too. Speaking of which, how did that math test go?"
I groaned. He knew I was awake. No way to avoid it now. "I got 100."
"Good girl." He grinned, wrapping an arm around me. I breathed, glad he was happy with the results I had worked hard to get. I grimaced and shrugged. I still felt bad about what he had said about the woman and reached for the remote and changed the channel myself. He didn't question me. And I was relieved.
Good. It was 6:00. Time for Jeopardy. The whole subject of grades and fat people, both very sensitive subjects for me, would be swept completely under our dusty green carpet and be forgotten about: at least for now.
My dad ended up talking through the whole show. If he wasn't answering the questions before the contestants, he was explaining complicated scientific formulas from work.
Sometimes I was really annoyed with how he never shut up about work. I mean, I wasn't even really that good at science and I didn't really know much about it. The stuff he told me never really made sense.
But when I thought about it, I realized I'd rather hear about his day job.
12 years and I've never asked him about that night job.
At 6:30, it was Wheel of Fortune. Great. His other favorite show. It was a similar experience. One hour of pain, basically. I swore my dad just loved to hear himself talk.
"No homework tonight, Adelaine?" He stood up, stretching and looking down at me as the show ended.
I nodded no and he closed his eyes and yawned, then adjusted his glasses. "Well, I'll be off then."
"What? I thought you weren't working tonight!" I cried, honestly upset. Even though I was a little bitter when spending time with my father, I actually loved and cherished the time very much.
"Something has arisen. Go to bed, Adelaine. I'll come check in on you when I get back."
"But Dad, it's only 7:00..."
"Go to bed, Adelaine." He repeated sternly.
I nodded and dragged myself to my small bedroom. I closed the door and wondered where the hell my dad was going all the sudden. I sighed.
I felt sad. But whatever, I didn't have a choice.
Since there was nothing much else to do, I studied my Greek vocabulary terms for two hours, then as my eyes started to get blurry, I turned off my lamp and flopped down in my bed.
9:09 and my dad still wasn't home...
I tried to sleep but I just couldn't. Time kept on rolling, 9:39, 9:53, 10:12, 10:46, 10:48, 10:49...
God, it was getting SLOWER AND SLOWER. I swore the clock had never moved so slow in my life. Then I heard my door open and I gave a small gasp. It was startling and completely unexpected. I hadn't heard anyone enter the apartment in the first place, but then realized I was most likely too caught up in the clock.
I smelled my dad's cologne and felt instantly at comfort and ease. He sat down on my bed and looked at me. The light was shining in from the kitchen down the hall from the open door. I could see that he was wearing one of his many green question mark suits and a green bowler. Typical. How stupid of me to think he was actually out doing something good for once? Pretty stupid, and I'd better not say anything unless I wanted to hear just exactly how stupid it was for the next couple weeks.
He took off the bowler and looked at me. I felt his gaze. It was heavy and a little haunting. I could tell he had killed someone tonight and I wondered why.
"Have you been sleeping this whole time?" his voice was so gentle and it was almost like everything I had just realized that he had done didn't even matter, because he was my DAD and he was the best dad ever and I'd love him forever and ever, even if he did mess up sometimes.
"No...I was worried about you." I said, a small pout on my face.
"Never worry about me." He kissed my forehead then tucked the covers around me.
"But what you do is dangerous..what about the Batman?"
The Batman. I had nightmares about him pretty frequently. I was so horrified of what he might do to my dad. I hated him and I hated hearing about him, almost as much as I hated hearing about the bad things my father did to people.
He chuckled heartily and it made me feel like everything was just okay. "The Batman is no match for me, my sweet. He is so stupid: just a big, black, bumbling bat. Riddle me this," he leaned forward, close to my face, and I smelled his aftershave so strongly and it made me smile, "Who is the biggest idiot, yet has something that is smaller than all the rest?"
I giggled hard, knowing the answer immediately. "Batman! His brain is smaller than everyone else's 'cause he's stupid! But since he's the stupidest of them all, he's the biggest idiot!"
"Exactly." He kissed my forehead then down my eyes and to my cheeks, gave one on each, then pulled away and stood up, picking up his bowler. "Goodnight, Adelaine. Get some rest, it's very late."
"Goodnight Daddy." I called and snuggled up to my pillow, still smelling the smell of my father. I was suddenly at peace and it was okay to fall asleep. I felt okay. Like things were good again after all that worrying.
It didn't hit me until the next morning, where I was grabbing a Pop-tart and catching the school bus when I saw kids holding up newspapers and covering their mouths. Dread hit me. Like a huge lead ball was thrown onto the bottom of my stomach. Like I was going to get sick. Like I was going to cry. Like I was dying inside.
Who would be dead today and why?