The next day is relatively slow. Since Mr. Wayne's away, all Terry has to do during daylight hours is check on Ace. And he has no school or homework to worry about. He can't remember when he last had so much spare time. By all rights he should be glad about that, but it's making him miserable, because normally he'd be spending it with Dana. For some reason he keeps thinking that he should call her up, as if they were still going out together. It's almost like he's just had a limb amputated and hasn't gotten used to the fact that it just isn't there anymore. For a while he thinks about trying to patch things up with her, which is what he usually did after the two of them got into an argument. But it won't work this time, because what they'd just had wasn't an argument, or at least not the kind he was used to. It was a lot more like a 'let's just be friends' conversation, although thankfully it hadn't been quite that awful.
When he gets right down to it, the only way he can possibly make up with Dana is be to tell her exactly why his job took up so much of his time, and took him away from her. But try as he might, he can't imagine himself explaining it to her. He hadn't been able to imagine it with his mother either, but he'd had no other choice, and thankfully they had managed to work it out. In Dana's case, he had a choice – and, as much as it might hurt him, he knows that he did the right thing. Batman is more than she's capable of dealing with.
At least he can escape such thoughts by attending to another necessity; that of getting a new motorbike. This time he gets a brand-new one, a top-of-the-line Meteor 2600, which in retrospect he thinks he may have done as a sort of therapeutic treatment because of how awful he's feeling. Well, it's certainly worth it – the sleek black bike is good for both speed and cornering, and the seat is big enough to fit a passenger sitting behind him. He'll be using about a fourth of his weekly salary to pay for it for the next year or so, but he's pretty sure, at least for the time being, that he won't regret it. As for the whole therapy thing, it does make him feel a lot better, at least in the short term.
When he rides home that afternoon, he finds that his mother and brother are just leaving the apartment building. His mom's carrying a picnic basket. Matt's eyes go wide as Terry pulls the bike up next to the curb. He runs over to check it out as Terry removes his helmet. "That's a schway bike!" Matt remarks as he examines his dim reflection in the polished black metal. Then he looks up at his mother, who has walked up to meet them. "Hey, mom! Can I take a ride on it? Pleeeeese?"
"Absolutely not," she says. She has a very low opinion of motorbikes in general, and only let Terry get one when he started working for Mr. Wayne because he was spending his own money and it was less expensive than a car. Although she's gotten used to the idea of her older son riding a motorcycle, she apparently doesn't think Matt should even get near one until he's at least sixteen. Or, better still, until he's thirty. Matt, who of course has the opposite mindset, looks like he's about to throw a fit.
Terry finds a quick way to defuse the situation. "I don't have an extra helmet for you, Matt," he says apologetically. Then he grins. "I know it's only your head, but still…" He ruffles his little brother's hair affectionately.
"What do you mean, 'it's only my hea…'" Matt's eyebrows go up as comprehension dawns, and then go down as he frowns petulantly. "Hey!" He throws a punch at Terry and hits him in the ribs.
"Matty, that's enough," his mother tells him in a gentle but firm tone. Matt retreats a bit, holding his hands behind his back and looking sorry – for getting in trouble, not for hitting his brother. His mother turns to Terry. "We're going to have a picnic supper in the park. Want to come along?"
Terry thinks about it for a moment. He doesn't have anything else to do, and after yesterday he feels that he owes this much, at least, to his mother. "Sure," he says. "Lemme park the bike, and I'll be right back."
~***~
After dinner, while their mother is putting away the picnic paraphernalia, the McGinnis toss a Frisbee back and forth on the expanse of grass near the pond, which is actually more like a small lake. Playing with Matt makes Terry feel almost like a normal person. People say that normalcy is relative, but Terry knows better.
"Go back farther!" Matt shouts at him. He's going to try for a long-distance Frisbee toss.
"Are you sure you can throw it this far?" His little brother's maximum range is something less than five meters, and the two of them are half again that far apart.
"Yes I can! C'mon! Go back!" Matt insists, flapping the Frisbee in a shooing motion.
Terry obliges his brother by backing up, slowly, until Matt holds up his hands. Now they're about twelve meters apart. Matt pulls back his arm, looking like a baseball pitcher on the windup, and then he flings the Frisbee towards Terry. As he predicted, it doesn't even cover half the distance between them before it hits the ground. Matt looks disappointed.
"I told you so," Terry calls to him as they both jog toward the fallen Frisbee. The two of them reach it at about the same time – Matt started out closer to it, but Terry can run faster – and they each pick up one end. Matt pulls on it, trying to wrest it from his older brother's grip. Terry waits until he's digging his heels in and pulling really hard; then he lets go. His little brother stumbles backwards and falls over.
Matt doesn't realize that his brother has just played a trick on him, or maybe he doesn't care. He brandishes the Frisbee triumphantly. "Ha ha! Twip!" he crows as he gets to his feet and flings the Frisbee, rather inexpertly, at Terry.
Terry snatches it out of the air before it can hit his face. Then he starts shuffling backwards, holding the Frisbee back behind his head like it's a football he's about to toss. Matt gets the idea and starts running in the other direction, watching Terry over his shoulder. Terry sweeps his arm back in an exaggerated motion and throws the Frisbee as hard as he can.
He aimed it straight for Matt, but a sudden gust of wind pushes it to the left, towards the large pond. The brothers watch with something akin to horror as it descends and hits the water. The Frisbee skims along the surface, spinning and throwing off ripples, until it gets caught among the reeds near the far bank.
Matt reacts the way he always does when Terry upsets him. "MOOOOM!"
Terry's mother, who has just finished packing up and witnessed the Frisbee's water landing, sighs at her younger son. "Matt, it's only a Frisbee. Calm down."
"It's okay," Terry says. "I'll go get it." He heads for the little path that runs around the perimeter of the lake. Close to the bed of reeds where the Frisbee came to rest, the path winds through a series of large trees and shrubs, which make it impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction while one is inside. When he emerges from the curtain of willow branches that marks the end of the concealed section of the path, he sees that someone else has already plucked the Frisbee from among the reeds. At first he doesn't recognize her, but when he does he freezes in his tracks. Something in his soul shatters like a glass window hit by a brick.
Melanie.