Title:
Father's Day
Author:
Simon
Pairing:
Dick Grayson
Rating:
PG-13 for language
Summary:
It's Father's Day in Bludhaven
Warnings:
shameless sentimentality
Disclaimers:
These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst
luck,
so don't bother me.
Feedback:
Hell, yes. Baeden2020y...
Father's Day
A
city park in Bludhaven, kids talking. A cop is a few yards
away,
quietly
listening.
"Yeah,
well, it's a pain in my ass. I get home ten minutes late and
I'm
frigging grounded for a week."
"That
bites, man."
"My
mother told me—get this—I have to be home by six so we can
take
the
old bastard out for dinner. I mean, like I have no life, for
God's
sake."
"I
got off easy, I just got stuck with lunch, but we have to
go
someplace
he wants, so it's gonna suck."
"You
all got off easy. I have to change the oil in his damn car THEN
take
him to visit my grandfather at the damn home. I mean, Christ."
"You
know what burns my ass the most? I mean, I get all A's last
marking
period and one B. You know what he says? What happened
here?'
Like it's not good enough."
"Tell
me about it. I have to get a job this summer. He says that if
I
want a car I have to pay for the insurance and the gas myself.
You
know
what that's gonna cost?"
"You
have any idea how embarrassing it is to have you father call
the
teacher and ask why I got a D in English? Now he reads every
damn
book we get assigned and quizzes me on it. Jesus. It's like I'm
too
dumb to do it myself."
"He
told me that if I get home late again, I'm grounded for the
whole
month."
"Sucks,
man."
"Yeah,
like he'd even notice. He's always out working and shit. I
mean,
it's not like he's even there. He never even said anything
when
I got that extra point in the game last week."
"Man,
that was awesome. Was he there?"
"Yeah,
he got there late, like usual."
"And
my Mom? Always defends the bastard—He does everything for you
and
your sister. He's doing it all for you. He's soooo proud of
you.'
My ass"
The
cop starts to stroll by the kids. They know him. He's OK,
never
hassles
them, sometimes even shoot hoops with them. He's a good guy.
"Hey,
dude, you going to hang with your Dad today?"
"No."
He starts to move on.
"How
come? I'da though you're a frigging boy scout about crap
like
that."
He
stops, turns back to the group of boys. He knows them, sees them
here
almost every day. Sometimes they talk. They aren't bad kids,
just
young. He decides to make a point, one he usually avoids.
"My
father was murdered in front of me four days after my
eighth
birthday.
So was my mother." It's said mildly and with no emotion, a
fact
long ago accepted.
"...Fuck
me, man, I didn't know...jeez. I mean, sorry."
He
nods, going to let it drop but changes his mind and turns
back.
"I'd give anything, do anything to have one more day with
him—
just
five more minutes. If I could—just to be able to talk with
him
again.
I'd give anything to just be able to look at him one more time."
He
looks
like he's going to say more but just shakes his head and
keeps
walking.
One
by one, the boys look at one another and go home.
6/20/04
