July 5th, 2006
Dear Mom and Dad,
Camp isn't very fun. Eric, the boy on the bunk on top of mine, keeps having girls over and I can't ever sleep because of how loud they are, doing whatever it is they are doing. I miss you guys and I want to come home. It's so boring and I'd rather be practicing for the big show coming up. Can I come home early?
Love,
Richard
P.S. I love you guys.
January 18th, 2007
Dear Mom and Dad,
How's the circus going? It's so boring up here with Auntie Emma. She's so old! I'm surprised she hasn't died yet. She doesn't even know who I am! She keeps calling me Marti and telling me to go fetch her PBR. I don't even know what that is! Peanut Butter something? I'm so bored! I miss you guys so much! Please let me come home! PLEASE!
Love you,
Richard
August 2nd, 2007
Dear Mom and Dad,
I don't know what to say… You aren't here anymore… Bruce is really nice, but he's no you… He's just like a statue and won't do anything… I miss you guys so much… Please come take me home and tell me that this is all over… I love you… Please come take me home… please?
-Richard
March 20th, 2008
Dear Mom and Dad,
It hasn't even been a year and I'm still a mess… How do you guys expect me to keep on without you? Bruce has been training me so hard I think my bones are bleeding and my head pounds. I'm supposed to be a sidekick, but I need some saving... from myself… I miss you… so much…
-Richard
P.S. Happy Birthday… to me… the best present you could get me? Simple, come and take me home.
December 25th, 2008
Dear Mom and Dad,
Merry Christmas. Bruce and I are still so foreign to each other. It's like trying to explain 69 and DVR to someone in London… It's impossible… I'm trying though… It's not any easier. They say it's easy to forget, but so far, the hardest part is to remember. I want to remember how to love, what it feels like to be hugged, to be kissed… I miss you guys so much…
-Richard
August 2nd, 2010
Dear Mom and Dad,
It's been three years that I've gone with you guys as my secret. No one knows about anything anymore. To them, I'm just Richard Wayne… I don't want to be a Wayne though. I want to be a Grayson. I want my green suit back. I want my parents back. I'm considered a hero now, but I still can't save myself. What a crappy hero I turned out to be. I wish you guys could reply to this... I really do…
-Richard
Richard wiped heavy streams of tears from his eyes as he stared at the half full page of notebook paper in front of him. He never said a word, but his eyes screamed of pain and misery. It was so pointless, these letters. His parents would never get them anyway. With a sigh, Richard picked up the pen again and continued writing.
May 22nd, 2011
Dear Mom and Dad,
Richard let the pen rest on the desk as he stared at his spidery handwriting through blurred eyes.
What do I say? There's nothing left that words can say…
Slowly, he surrendered and buried his face in his hands.
Look at you he thought sadly a full fledged super hero and you're sobbing your eyes out over something that doesn't exist. Grow up, you wuss. This is the real world! If you can't handle it, get out!
He wiped at his eyes again, just in case Bruce came in. Bruce was a ninja that way. Taking a deep and shaky breath, Richard picked up the pen again and began to write.
You left me in 2007. It's been four years now, and I'm still as weak as I ever was. I don't want the net to catch me when I fall. I want to slip through the cracks and join you guys. I want to have parents again, and a small house, and hot chocolate during the winter after a big snowball fight. I want to be forced to clean my own room, instead of a butler. I want to get scolded for not finishing dinner. I want to be home schooled instead of going to a school with a bunch of preps. I'm thirteen now and I still haven't saved myself. There may be a cape on my back, but I'm just another dead hero on the Incredibles; I get sucked into the jet turbine to be shredded. This is just yet another thing duct tape and Ibuprofen can't fix… I miss you guys so much…
Richard slowly signed his name, frowning as his tears smudged the ink.
"Crap," he whispered, setting the pen down.
With a sigh, he folded the letter anyway and stuck it in an envelope, flipping it to the back. He hesitated, trying to think of an address to send it to. Slowly, he wrote Heavenin heavy cursive. He knew it wouldn't send, but quite frankly, he didn't care.
XxXxX
Several weeks passed and never once did the letter leave Richard's mind. He never thought to check the mailbox though. Not until one Friday morning though, when he was sadly sitting at the table in the dining room all by himself, eating a tuna salad, his eyes out the window, when Bruce approached him with a small golden box. Richard eyed it suspiciously.
"What is that?" he asked, cautiously.
Bruce shrugged and set the box down.
"It was addressed to you."
Richard slid the box open cautiously and peered in. His eyes swelled when he saw what was in. He pulled a small piece of paper out and opened it up, reading it. He gasped softly and laughed even softer. Bruce raised an eyebrow when he saw tears form in the boy's eyes. Richard hugged the letter tight. He peered back in the box and a bigger smile unfolded over his lips. He pulled a green piece of fabric from the box and tears slipped down his face.
"Richard?" Bruce asked, confused.
The boy looked up at his mentor, his eyes sparkling.
"I'll be back," he whispered, setting the letter down and dashing up the stairs, the green fabric in his hands.
Once Bruce was sure Richard was gone, he peered at the letter and read it, praying Richard didn't walk in to see.
June 1st, 2011
Dear Richard,
Sorry we didn't reply, it took a while for your letters to get here. You don't have to be a hero to save yourself. You of all people should know that. Just learn to catch yourself when you fall. You'd be surprised what wonders it does. We miss you more than you can imagine, but we'll see you soon when fate decides that you aren't needed anymore, but it'll be a long time before that comes. We love you so much and we have faith in you. And as for the jet turbines, simply don't fly next to planes. That is simply a silly decision on your part. And trust me, you used to hate cleaning your room so much. I think you secretly love having a butler.
We love you so much, my little robin…
Mary and John G.
Bruce furrowed his eyebrows, but a single glance from Alfred who was casually strolling through the dining room answered all his questions and he smiled softly and patted the butler on the back.
"You didn't have to do this, you old coot," Bruce muttered in an undertone.
"Ah, but I did," Alfred said smugly. "And I'm not an old coot."
Bruce chuckled softly to himself and headed off to his own room.
Man, the older that old boy gets, the sneakier he gets. How can you not love him?
Originally, this was just going to be letters, but my fingers wouldn't shut up. Do you like it? Review…
-Frank Ann Jo III