Duty Calls, and the Heart Shall Wait
Disclaimer: All names and likenesses are property of DC comics. Don't sue me.
In the picture was a man, not just any man, but a great man. The grayness of his hair was distinguished and the his temples expressed his seriousness. His eyes were those of a man who had been hardened by life, in fact consumed by it. His mouth was one that rarely curled for a smile, it seemed like it had never moved from that straight, depressing line.
"Mommy, will you read me a story? Puh-lease?" My son's innocent words broke my concentration on the picture above the fireplace.
"It's past your bedtime, you know that. Plus I read that book to you last night." I said, combing my fingers through his curly dark brown hair, revealing his olive tone forehead.
"Puh-lease?" He whimpered again.
"Warren, you know better than to argue with me." I said in a tone harsher than I wanted it to be, with a glare more piercing than I intended. Warren could sense my impatience with him and reluctantly sauntered to his room. "I'll be up in a minute to tuck you in." I said trying to sound more gentle, more motherly.
I pulled myself off of the ottoman I was sitting on, and glanced at the picture once more. Every night I would force myself up the flight of stairs that lead to the bedrooms. First to the bedroom of my son, whom I would wrestle into bed and then tuck in with words about how much I loved him. The hardest trek of all however, was down the hall a short distance to the my bedroom.
"Mommy," I heard my son call my name. I turned around slightly, wondering what new excuse he had to stall for more time to be awake.
"Yes, Warren," I said with a sigh, as I turned and walked back to his room.
"When's daddy gonna come home?" He said with his big, light brown begging to be closed.
"He'll be home soon. I'll make sure he gives you a kiss when he gets in, okay?" I said, with deep sadness and even regret in my voice.
"Okay," he said with a big yawn, one filled with just as much sadness.
Finally in my room, I did a half-hearted belly flop onto the bed and buried my head in one of the many plush pillows. Over the years these pillows had become my closest friends, knowing all the secrets my heart ever held. Of course, I couldn't tell anyone else about my problems. But my pillows are perfect, they absorb all the pain I inflict on them and never protest.
I suppose I should be used to these lonely, anxious nights. Terry and I have been together for eight years now, so these lonely nights should be a common practice. Maybe I am use to these lonely nights, maybe it's the lonely days that are catching up with my heart. I don't know how I convinced myself that being married to him would be simple, that we would spend our nights romping about the city, sharing a romance with the streets. The blindfolds of youth and love shielded my eyes, and now the glare of maturity and marriage have opened them.
It was fine at the beginning when Terry first became CEO of Wayne Enterprises. He did everything that he said he always would. The company no longer operated according to the wills of greedy men. He instituted new practices that would ensure that what happened to his father would never happen again. Things weren't difficult then, Terry kept most of the employees that were there when he took over, but when the company ventured out into new areas, Terry had to completely restructure Wayne Enterprises. That's when our relationship began to go through troubled waters. He began to come home later from the office and leave early for his "night job". He would come in three, four, sometimes five o'clock in the morning and would be gone again before I would wake up.
Then I got pregnant. The day I realized that I could possibly be pregnant was one of the happiest days of my life. Sure I was thrilled to become a mother, but I was also happy because I figured that a child would be the solution to our many problems. And for a while, Warren Bruce McGinnis was the answer to our relationship problems. Terry was completely dedicated to being a great father, and believe me he was. He was there for me for doctor's appointments, birth classes, and the day Warren was born. I enjoyed the nights when we would both rock him to sleep, read to him, and even sing to him. Terry would bring me to tears sometimes when I saw him interact with Warren. When Warren would wake up in the middle of the night, Terry would get up and take midnight strolls around the manor telling Warren everything about anything. Warren would shriek with delight.
However, as Warren got older, he and I began to see less of Terry. Don't get me wrong, he does an excellent job as a husband and father given his position. And I have done an excellent job of being understanding of the passion he has for Wayne Enterprises and Gotham City.
So I as I continued to lay there, I surprised myself and let a tear fall. It slowly trickled down my cheek and fell onto the pillow. The pillow turns a darker shade of khaki as it absorbs the moisture, the pain. That first tear opened a floodgate and I began to sob uncontrollably. You ask a lot of me McGinnis, and sometimes you ask too much.
Disclaimer: All names and likenesses are property of DC comics. Don't sue me.
In the picture was a man, not just any man, but a great man. The grayness of his hair was distinguished and the his temples expressed his seriousness. His eyes were those of a man who had been hardened by life, in fact consumed by it. His mouth was one that rarely curled for a smile, it seemed like it had never moved from that straight, depressing line.
"Mommy, will you read me a story? Puh-lease?" My son's innocent words broke my concentration on the picture above the fireplace.
"It's past your bedtime, you know that. Plus I read that book to you last night." I said, combing my fingers through his curly dark brown hair, revealing his olive tone forehead.
"Puh-lease?" He whimpered again.
"Warren, you know better than to argue with me." I said in a tone harsher than I wanted it to be, with a glare more piercing than I intended. Warren could sense my impatience with him and reluctantly sauntered to his room. "I'll be up in a minute to tuck you in." I said trying to sound more gentle, more motherly.
I pulled myself off of the ottoman I was sitting on, and glanced at the picture once more. Every night I would force myself up the flight of stairs that lead to the bedrooms. First to the bedroom of my son, whom I would wrestle into bed and then tuck in with words about how much I loved him. The hardest trek of all however, was down the hall a short distance to the my bedroom.
"Mommy," I heard my son call my name. I turned around slightly, wondering what new excuse he had to stall for more time to be awake.
"Yes, Warren," I said with a sigh, as I turned and walked back to his room.
"When's daddy gonna come home?" He said with his big, light brown begging to be closed.
"He'll be home soon. I'll make sure he gives you a kiss when he gets in, okay?" I said, with deep sadness and even regret in my voice.
"Okay," he said with a big yawn, one filled with just as much sadness.
Finally in my room, I did a half-hearted belly flop onto the bed and buried my head in one of the many plush pillows. Over the years these pillows had become my closest friends, knowing all the secrets my heart ever held. Of course, I couldn't tell anyone else about my problems. But my pillows are perfect, they absorb all the pain I inflict on them and never protest.
I suppose I should be used to these lonely, anxious nights. Terry and I have been together for eight years now, so these lonely nights should be a common practice. Maybe I am use to these lonely nights, maybe it's the lonely days that are catching up with my heart. I don't know how I convinced myself that being married to him would be simple, that we would spend our nights romping about the city, sharing a romance with the streets. The blindfolds of youth and love shielded my eyes, and now the glare of maturity and marriage have opened them.
It was fine at the beginning when Terry first became CEO of Wayne Enterprises. He did everything that he said he always would. The company no longer operated according to the wills of greedy men. He instituted new practices that would ensure that what happened to his father would never happen again. Things weren't difficult then, Terry kept most of the employees that were there when he took over, but when the company ventured out into new areas, Terry had to completely restructure Wayne Enterprises. That's when our relationship began to go through troubled waters. He began to come home later from the office and leave early for his "night job". He would come in three, four, sometimes five o'clock in the morning and would be gone again before I would wake up.
Then I got pregnant. The day I realized that I could possibly be pregnant was one of the happiest days of my life. Sure I was thrilled to become a mother, but I was also happy because I figured that a child would be the solution to our many problems. And for a while, Warren Bruce McGinnis was the answer to our relationship problems. Terry was completely dedicated to being a great father, and believe me he was. He was there for me for doctor's appointments, birth classes, and the day Warren was born. I enjoyed the nights when we would both rock him to sleep, read to him, and even sing to him. Terry would bring me to tears sometimes when I saw him interact with Warren. When Warren would wake up in the middle of the night, Terry would get up and take midnight strolls around the manor telling Warren everything about anything. Warren would shriek with delight.
However, as Warren got older, he and I began to see less of Terry. Don't get me wrong, he does an excellent job as a husband and father given his position. And I have done an excellent job of being understanding of the passion he has for Wayne Enterprises and Gotham City.
So I as I continued to lay there, I surprised myself and let a tear fall. It slowly trickled down my cheek and fell onto the pillow. The pillow turns a darker shade of khaki as it absorbs the moisture, the pain. That first tear opened a floodgate and I began to sob uncontrollably. You ask a lot of me McGinnis, and sometimes you ask too much.