The city is quiet.
When it's quiet, it usually means it's time for me to go home.
Although there's really nothing waiting for me at home. Ben and Lydia are both asleep. And even if they were awake, Lydia would be glaring at me and Ben would be dragging his feet in that lethargic way he gets when I miss something important to him.
There's something I have to do before I go home though. I slip a long coat on over my suit.
Wayne's yearly visits to his parents' murder scene were pretty much out in the open. Wayne took no pains to hide them and it was a common known fact that everyone went "awww" over.
I'd do the same thing, but my parents' death scenes are now apartments occupied by other people.
Instead I stop by Dad's grave every night I can. I walk up to the edge of the mound of dirt. It's long settled and covered with grass, but there's still a slight incline to it, like God's never going to let me forget that my father is buried here.
Mom always told me to visit him. The part she never let out was that she wanted me to visit him because I never spent enough time with him in life.
They loved each other. They had to. Even now I don't accept their divorce. Which is why I made sure that Mom was buried near Dad.
Mom died a couple years ago, victim to some stupid cancer that she never thought she had the time to deal with. She never had the desire to tell Matt and me about it either. I guess she thought it would be better if it was a complete shock to us, like Dad.
Even to the end, Mom didn't take advantage of what Mr. Wayne left me. She'd been working too long and too hard on her own to suddenly take an enormous handout.
I guess it's that McGinnis sense of self-sufficiency.
"I haven't seen you here in a while." I look up. Matt, my younger brother, stands on the other side of the grave. We usually catch each other here.
"I've been busy." Matt says nothing, just stares down at the words on the tombstone for a minute.
My little brother is 20 now. He's lived through the premature deaths of both parents, his older brother's rebellious stage, and the inheritance of millions of dollars from his brother.
The odd thing is that Matt's probably the most well-adjusted one in the family. He's the one who'll have a "normal" life.
I hold my coat tighter around me, trying to hide the protruding red bat that's peeking out from the buttons of my coat. Matt doesn't know I'm Batman, never thought that I could be Batman, and with any luck will die an old man still not knowing I'm Batman.
And I know that's the way it should be, that things are much easier with Matt not knowing my secret as well, but I'd like to tell him.
If only to see the look on his face.
"How's college going?" Matt glances up at me.
"It's okay I guess. How's being the head of an international corporation?" I can never tell if Matt is still teasing me or if he's being sincere. I still see him as that annoying 8-year-old twip sometimes.
"Never mind. You look pretty slagged so I think I can guess. How about Lydia and Ben?" I open my mouth to say something, but Matt beats me to it. He always has to have the last word. Or the first.
"Mad at you again, huh?" I just nod, smiling wryly at him.
"Keep trying. It's hard to stay mad at you for too long, Terry." Matt says as he turns to leave.
Oh you'd be surprised just how long people can stay mad, Matt.
*************************************************************
I wake up the next morning next to Lyd, like I have for the past 12 years. I shake her to wake her up.
"Lyd." She opens one eye.
"It's Saturday." I can't help but laugh.
"Lyd it's Thursday." She shuts the eye and pulls herself out of bed.
"Maybe I'll stay home anyway." She murmurs, looking back at me.
"Maybe I will too." I say it almost like it's a threat.
"What would you do at home Terry?" She asks, rolling her neck around like some massage client in the throes of relaxation.
"Talk to Ben. Argue with you." Lydia smiles. Sometimes it's funny that we fight.
Most times it's not.
"He won, in case you were wondering." She adds. I sigh. Ben might forgive me after a while. Lydia never, ever forgets. And she never, ever lets herself be the loser of an argument.
"I'll make it up to him."
"He'd probably like it better if Batman made it up to him." Lydia says, giggling. Unlike me, she seems to find humor in the fact that Batman has scored more points with Ben than I have in his whole life- and he's never met Batman.
"Cut it out Lyd. You might not need Ben's adoration, but I'd sure as hell like to have it." Lydia gets up from the bed, stretching her limbs into strange contortions.
Of course Lydia doesn't need it. Lydia doesn't need anything. She's the great, fearless center of her own universe.
And that makes me mad for some reason.
I need Ben. I need Lydia more than I'll admit.
But she's never needed me.
"By the way," Lydia says, stopping at the door before she exits the room. "You might want to be a little quieter when you come in at night."
Quieter? I'm already hiding my secret from half my family, most of my friends, and all of Gotham.
Do I have to hide things from Lydia now too?
When it's quiet, it usually means it's time for me to go home.
Although there's really nothing waiting for me at home. Ben and Lydia are both asleep. And even if they were awake, Lydia would be glaring at me and Ben would be dragging his feet in that lethargic way he gets when I miss something important to him.
There's something I have to do before I go home though. I slip a long coat on over my suit.
Wayne's yearly visits to his parents' murder scene were pretty much out in the open. Wayne took no pains to hide them and it was a common known fact that everyone went "awww" over.
I'd do the same thing, but my parents' death scenes are now apartments occupied by other people.
Instead I stop by Dad's grave every night I can. I walk up to the edge of the mound of dirt. It's long settled and covered with grass, but there's still a slight incline to it, like God's never going to let me forget that my father is buried here.
Mom always told me to visit him. The part she never let out was that she wanted me to visit him because I never spent enough time with him in life.
They loved each other. They had to. Even now I don't accept their divorce. Which is why I made sure that Mom was buried near Dad.
Mom died a couple years ago, victim to some stupid cancer that she never thought she had the time to deal with. She never had the desire to tell Matt and me about it either. I guess she thought it would be better if it was a complete shock to us, like Dad.
Even to the end, Mom didn't take advantage of what Mr. Wayne left me. She'd been working too long and too hard on her own to suddenly take an enormous handout.
I guess it's that McGinnis sense of self-sufficiency.
"I haven't seen you here in a while." I look up. Matt, my younger brother, stands on the other side of the grave. We usually catch each other here.
"I've been busy." Matt says nothing, just stares down at the words on the tombstone for a minute.
My little brother is 20 now. He's lived through the premature deaths of both parents, his older brother's rebellious stage, and the inheritance of millions of dollars from his brother.
The odd thing is that Matt's probably the most well-adjusted one in the family. He's the one who'll have a "normal" life.
I hold my coat tighter around me, trying to hide the protruding red bat that's peeking out from the buttons of my coat. Matt doesn't know I'm Batman, never thought that I could be Batman, and with any luck will die an old man still not knowing I'm Batman.
And I know that's the way it should be, that things are much easier with Matt not knowing my secret as well, but I'd like to tell him.
If only to see the look on his face.
"How's college going?" Matt glances up at me.
"It's okay I guess. How's being the head of an international corporation?" I can never tell if Matt is still teasing me or if he's being sincere. I still see him as that annoying 8-year-old twip sometimes.
"Never mind. You look pretty slagged so I think I can guess. How about Lydia and Ben?" I open my mouth to say something, but Matt beats me to it. He always has to have the last word. Or the first.
"Mad at you again, huh?" I just nod, smiling wryly at him.
"Keep trying. It's hard to stay mad at you for too long, Terry." Matt says as he turns to leave.
Oh you'd be surprised just how long people can stay mad, Matt.
*************************************************************
I wake up the next morning next to Lyd, like I have for the past 12 years. I shake her to wake her up.
"Lyd." She opens one eye.
"It's Saturday." I can't help but laugh.
"Lyd it's Thursday." She shuts the eye and pulls herself out of bed.
"Maybe I'll stay home anyway." She murmurs, looking back at me.
"Maybe I will too." I say it almost like it's a threat.
"What would you do at home Terry?" She asks, rolling her neck around like some massage client in the throes of relaxation.
"Talk to Ben. Argue with you." Lydia smiles. Sometimes it's funny that we fight.
Most times it's not.
"He won, in case you were wondering." She adds. I sigh. Ben might forgive me after a while. Lydia never, ever forgets. And she never, ever lets herself be the loser of an argument.
"I'll make it up to him."
"He'd probably like it better if Batman made it up to him." Lydia says, giggling. Unlike me, she seems to find humor in the fact that Batman has scored more points with Ben than I have in his whole life- and he's never met Batman.
"Cut it out Lyd. You might not need Ben's adoration, but I'd sure as hell like to have it." Lydia gets up from the bed, stretching her limbs into strange contortions.
Of course Lydia doesn't need it. Lydia doesn't need anything. She's the great, fearless center of her own universe.
And that makes me mad for some reason.
I need Ben. I need Lydia more than I'll admit.
But she's never needed me.
"By the way," Lydia says, stopping at the door before she exits the room. "You might want to be a little quieter when you come in at night."
Quieter? I'm already hiding my secret from half my family, most of my friends, and all of Gotham.
Do I have to hide things from Lydia now too?