I suddenly feel very ill. I run to the bathroom and throw up, my own brand
of morning sickness.
It feels like someone's taken my life of 17 years and replaced it with one that I've never seen one day of.
Calm down, McGinnis. Just take things slowly. Take things in small simple thoughts.
I am Terry McGinnis. Simple enough.
I have.had a girlfriend named Lydia. Fine so far.
I knocked her up. This is the part where the stomach pains come in.
The bell rings, asking me to put on hold whatever's going on in my life and go sit in a Trig class. I can't do that right now. I walk out of the bathroom, past my class and out of the building. I find my way to Gotham General and navigate the halls to Wayne's room.
I am Terry McGinnis.
I have a boss/mentor/something-I'm-not-quite-sure-how-to-define named Bruce Wayne.
He's lying in a hospital bed. This is the part where I begin to get a headache.
Wayne looks impossibly fragile amid the jungle of machines and medical equipment around him. But nothing can stop his ability to notice everything. He immediately opens his eyes.
"What are you doing here?" He says, without any surprise or annoyance. Pretty much without kind of emotion.
I can't tell him what I've just heard. That I've ignored his advice, thrown his wisdom back in his face and jeopardized my own ability to have a life, have a future, to be Batman.
And I can't face the realization that, because Lydia and I were not careful, I might never be able to see Bruce Wayne again.
"You don't look very well." He adds, giving me that once-over that he gets all his information from. I don't feel very well either.
"You don't look so good yourself." Wayne stares back at me, fearless and maybe even incensed at the suggestion that he's not at 110%.
"I'm fine, McGinnis. You have the night off. Why aren't you out enjoying yourself?" Because I enjoy myself every night I don't have the night off. Because I've got nowhere else to go, and nowhere I'd rather be.
But you can't admit these things to Bruce Wayne. You have to be on your guard, showing him that one day you too can be just as impenetrable a fortress as he is.
"Hey, if something happens to you, I'm out of a job." Wayne allows himself a slight smirk.
"You think so?" I know so. I can't even fathom being out there without knowing that he's back at the cave, watching to make sure I don't kill myself or his creation. I slump into a chair next to the bed.
"So what happened?" I ask the question even though I know I'm not going to get an answer. Bruce Wayne doesn't talk about his failings, either physically or otherwise. He gives me that look I get so often- telling me that I have no idea what I'm doing. So I wait a few seconds for him to say something. Eventually he always does.
"You're not helping me McGinnis. Go enjoy your night off, because I promise it'll be a long time before you get another one. Use the time to go talk to that girl you can't seem to stay away from." I look up at him. Wayne stares back, unfazed. That's when I realize that Wayne knows I've still been seeing Lydia the entire time.
I should have known I can't hide anything from him.
The irony of it is that I am hiding something from him, and he's not seeing it. I sigh and get up, moving towards the door.
"So you'll be back tomorrow night?"
"I'd be back there right now if they'd let me." Wayne replies, closing his eyes.
**************************************************************
For once in my life, I've taken Wayne's advice and gone to find the other person who might be leaving me.
Lydia still sits on her roof. Apparently being pregnant doesn't change her- it just changes her attitude towards me. I walk up behind her.
How did it happen? When did it happen?
Most importantly, why the hell did I find it out from MAX?
I don't immediately start interrogating her. It'll only drive her away further. Instead I stand and wait for her to start, which takes a few minutes.
"Shouldn't you be out at your night job?" Is the first thing she says, and she says it so blandly and impersonally that it almost feels like it's the first night we've been up here together instead of the thousandth.
I almost get angry, that she of all people is acting this way without knowing what's happened to me today.
Then I remember what's happened to her today, and I forget my anger.
"When did you find out?" I finally say. I don't have to ask her to repeat what I already know. Besides, she already knows there's no need for that.
"Last night." The night she told me to leave her, to go back to Wayne and back to what I love. Despite the fact that I love her too.
I should have been there for her. I should have been there with her. I shouldn't have done this to her.
I sit down next to her. She draws her knees up from the edge of the building to her face and buries her face in them.
"Today, at school.why didn't you just tell me instead of making me think something was really wrong?" Something WAS really wrong, but I choose to ignore that.
"Why should I tell you?" Lydia answers, glancing at me. Why should she tell me?
"You mean you weren't planning on telling me today?"
"I wasn't planning on telling you at all." Well. That's a new one.
So Lydia was just going to quietly let herself fade out of my life, thinking that I wouldn't notice that she had a baby and it happened to look a lot like me?
"Mind telling me why?" And for a second I wonder if it was because she thought I would abandon her, leave her to her own misery and concentrate on my own life. That's the person I've been trying to make up for my entire life. Lydia knows this. And so I doubt that's the reason.
"McGinnis, you have a hard time getting to school on time." Lydia says, not smiling but sounding like she wants to, like she wants to treat this like a game, like part of life's adventures, but something won't let her. "You wouldn't know what to do with a baby."
"Who are you to tell me what I would do in that situation?" Actually she's the perfect person to tell me what I would do in that situation.
We're IN that situation.
We went too fast. Things went too well, and then we went too fast. And between her father and me, and between my family/Batman/Wayne and her, neither of us wanted to think about anything but the fact that we could escape from all that when we were with each other.
Now we can't escape from it anywhere.
"I know everything that happens to you, from your family to the old man, to what you really think of yourself. Did you really think I was going to callously tell you that you had better provide for me and what you did to me and give you another problem and responsibility added to the hundreds you already have?" I stare back at her, half still hurt that she wouldn't tell me and half amazed that she would have been so self-sacrificial.
"You didn't do this to me, McGinnis. I did it to myself." She finishes, resting her head on her knees.
"We did this to you. You know that I'm not just going to say thanks and walk away."
"I wish you would." I almost demand to know why, but then I remember how you have to approach things with Lydia. You have to wait until she thinks it's time to tell you.
"This is big Terry. It'll be nothing but disaccordo." Disaccordo. Problems. Lydia never speaks her own language to me unless she's incredibly happy or incredibly upset.
"I'm not going to leave you alone with those problems." Lydia glances up at me. I notice the long dried tear stains on her face.
"Did you tell your father?" She nods. For once the apartment below us, usually full of Angelo's drunken revelries, is quiet. I notice the bruise on Lydia's cheekbone.
"All you've done is knocked up a girl, McGinnis. It's a bit more complicated in Italy. I've taken the name Meraviglia and blackened it to a singe. Family honor comes before compassion." She's been thrown out of the only thing that matters to her, the thing her people would die for: her family.
And on top of that she's been forced into the position that she hates above all else. She needs help, and she needs me. I put my arm around her and she gives up trying to keep me at a distance.
What the hell would Wayne say if he knew what happened today?
What would Dad say if he knew what I've done?
More importantly, what the hell do I do about what I've done?
It feels like someone's taken my life of 17 years and replaced it with one that I've never seen one day of.
Calm down, McGinnis. Just take things slowly. Take things in small simple thoughts.
I am Terry McGinnis. Simple enough.
I have.had a girlfriend named Lydia. Fine so far.
I knocked her up. This is the part where the stomach pains come in.
The bell rings, asking me to put on hold whatever's going on in my life and go sit in a Trig class. I can't do that right now. I walk out of the bathroom, past my class and out of the building. I find my way to Gotham General and navigate the halls to Wayne's room.
I am Terry McGinnis.
I have a boss/mentor/something-I'm-not-quite-sure-how-to-define named Bruce Wayne.
He's lying in a hospital bed. This is the part where I begin to get a headache.
Wayne looks impossibly fragile amid the jungle of machines and medical equipment around him. But nothing can stop his ability to notice everything. He immediately opens his eyes.
"What are you doing here?" He says, without any surprise or annoyance. Pretty much without kind of emotion.
I can't tell him what I've just heard. That I've ignored his advice, thrown his wisdom back in his face and jeopardized my own ability to have a life, have a future, to be Batman.
And I can't face the realization that, because Lydia and I were not careful, I might never be able to see Bruce Wayne again.
"You don't look very well." He adds, giving me that once-over that he gets all his information from. I don't feel very well either.
"You don't look so good yourself." Wayne stares back at me, fearless and maybe even incensed at the suggestion that he's not at 110%.
"I'm fine, McGinnis. You have the night off. Why aren't you out enjoying yourself?" Because I enjoy myself every night I don't have the night off. Because I've got nowhere else to go, and nowhere I'd rather be.
But you can't admit these things to Bruce Wayne. You have to be on your guard, showing him that one day you too can be just as impenetrable a fortress as he is.
"Hey, if something happens to you, I'm out of a job." Wayne allows himself a slight smirk.
"You think so?" I know so. I can't even fathom being out there without knowing that he's back at the cave, watching to make sure I don't kill myself or his creation. I slump into a chair next to the bed.
"So what happened?" I ask the question even though I know I'm not going to get an answer. Bruce Wayne doesn't talk about his failings, either physically or otherwise. He gives me that look I get so often- telling me that I have no idea what I'm doing. So I wait a few seconds for him to say something. Eventually he always does.
"You're not helping me McGinnis. Go enjoy your night off, because I promise it'll be a long time before you get another one. Use the time to go talk to that girl you can't seem to stay away from." I look up at him. Wayne stares back, unfazed. That's when I realize that Wayne knows I've still been seeing Lydia the entire time.
I should have known I can't hide anything from him.
The irony of it is that I am hiding something from him, and he's not seeing it. I sigh and get up, moving towards the door.
"So you'll be back tomorrow night?"
"I'd be back there right now if they'd let me." Wayne replies, closing his eyes.
**************************************************************
For once in my life, I've taken Wayne's advice and gone to find the other person who might be leaving me.
Lydia still sits on her roof. Apparently being pregnant doesn't change her- it just changes her attitude towards me. I walk up behind her.
How did it happen? When did it happen?
Most importantly, why the hell did I find it out from MAX?
I don't immediately start interrogating her. It'll only drive her away further. Instead I stand and wait for her to start, which takes a few minutes.
"Shouldn't you be out at your night job?" Is the first thing she says, and she says it so blandly and impersonally that it almost feels like it's the first night we've been up here together instead of the thousandth.
I almost get angry, that she of all people is acting this way without knowing what's happened to me today.
Then I remember what's happened to her today, and I forget my anger.
"When did you find out?" I finally say. I don't have to ask her to repeat what I already know. Besides, she already knows there's no need for that.
"Last night." The night she told me to leave her, to go back to Wayne and back to what I love. Despite the fact that I love her too.
I should have been there for her. I should have been there with her. I shouldn't have done this to her.
I sit down next to her. She draws her knees up from the edge of the building to her face and buries her face in them.
"Today, at school.why didn't you just tell me instead of making me think something was really wrong?" Something WAS really wrong, but I choose to ignore that.
"Why should I tell you?" Lydia answers, glancing at me. Why should she tell me?
"You mean you weren't planning on telling me today?"
"I wasn't planning on telling you at all." Well. That's a new one.
So Lydia was just going to quietly let herself fade out of my life, thinking that I wouldn't notice that she had a baby and it happened to look a lot like me?
"Mind telling me why?" And for a second I wonder if it was because she thought I would abandon her, leave her to her own misery and concentrate on my own life. That's the person I've been trying to make up for my entire life. Lydia knows this. And so I doubt that's the reason.
"McGinnis, you have a hard time getting to school on time." Lydia says, not smiling but sounding like she wants to, like she wants to treat this like a game, like part of life's adventures, but something won't let her. "You wouldn't know what to do with a baby."
"Who are you to tell me what I would do in that situation?" Actually she's the perfect person to tell me what I would do in that situation.
We're IN that situation.
We went too fast. Things went too well, and then we went too fast. And between her father and me, and between my family/Batman/Wayne and her, neither of us wanted to think about anything but the fact that we could escape from all that when we were with each other.
Now we can't escape from it anywhere.
"I know everything that happens to you, from your family to the old man, to what you really think of yourself. Did you really think I was going to callously tell you that you had better provide for me and what you did to me and give you another problem and responsibility added to the hundreds you already have?" I stare back at her, half still hurt that she wouldn't tell me and half amazed that she would have been so self-sacrificial.
"You didn't do this to me, McGinnis. I did it to myself." She finishes, resting her head on her knees.
"We did this to you. You know that I'm not just going to say thanks and walk away."
"I wish you would." I almost demand to know why, but then I remember how you have to approach things with Lydia. You have to wait until she thinks it's time to tell you.
"This is big Terry. It'll be nothing but disaccordo." Disaccordo. Problems. Lydia never speaks her own language to me unless she's incredibly happy or incredibly upset.
"I'm not going to leave you alone with those problems." Lydia glances up at me. I notice the long dried tear stains on her face.
"Did you tell your father?" She nods. For once the apartment below us, usually full of Angelo's drunken revelries, is quiet. I notice the bruise on Lydia's cheekbone.
"All you've done is knocked up a girl, McGinnis. It's a bit more complicated in Italy. I've taken the name Meraviglia and blackened it to a singe. Family honor comes before compassion." She's been thrown out of the only thing that matters to her, the thing her people would die for: her family.
And on top of that she's been forced into the position that she hates above all else. She needs help, and she needs me. I put my arm around her and she gives up trying to keep me at a distance.
What the hell would Wayne say if he knew what happened today?
What would Dad say if he knew what I've done?
More importantly, what the hell do I do about what I've done?