I go to shave and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. Sunlight pricks through the holes in my eyes and draws the blue from my irises. I am just a thought punctuated by actions. Drinking. Eating. Fighting. Speaking. Just between thoughts. I grab the phone before I even know what i'm doing. Who did I call? Speedial. Number One. It rings.
"Tim?" My voice is alien. Is this really me?
"Yes." His voice is wave of relief washing over me. It hits me and i drown. I don't even know what I called. What to say.
"I, Uh... sorry, I don't even know why I'm calling. Didn't mean to bother you, little brother." I sound so stupid. This is almost how i used to behave around Barbara. What does that mean? I'll contemplate it later. Right now I have to focus on weaving around the minefield that is a conversation with Tim Drake.
"That's fine. I called you spontaneously many a time. Good timing, though." Dodged a bullet. My hands start to sweat and I'm not sure why.
"Why's that?" Good. A question. The easy part.
"Well, in light of recent discoveries that I do, in fact, eat like a human. I also sleep and wake up like a human too--I'm sure you'll be putting that in your files later." This boy is crazy. He's two different people. I feel the relief wash over me again. Sometimes I think he's the man and i'm the teenager.
"Actually, my files on you go much more in depth than that already," I laughed. The corners of my mouth cracked and bled a bit. No more smiling for me, I made a mental note.
"What else do you know?" I could hear him tensing with immediate suspicion. I fought the urge to mess with his mind.
"It was a joke, Timmy." I say, flat and blunt. The kid understands flat and blunt. I realize i sound a bit harsh and compose myself. "I should go," I bite my lip. Please ask me to stay. Please ask me to stay. Tell me you need me. Somebody need me. I pray silently to the gods of teenage boy wonders. There is a pause as I wait to see if my murmurings have been heard by divine forces. I pace around my apartment, and a thumb tack pierces my foot. I wince but make no sound. I have to vacuum soon. He ignores my previous statement.
"Oh...Jokes. I've been talking to myself so often I forgot what those were." At least he's still here. Why do I want him here? I ask myself.
"More like Bruce everyday," I shake my head. "Are you alright?"
"i'm doing better today" comes the short reply. I sigh. What else should I have expected?
"I'm glad to hear that" I force a smile though I know he can't see it. What do I really want to say? I mull this over for a moment, picking lint off a sweater Babs gave me for Christmas last year. Blue to match my eyes, she said. "you busy today?" I found myself asking for no apparent reason. God, i closed my eyes. I must be going crazy. Still need to shave.
"After I find my pants, I'm pretty much free." He's distracted. My eyebrow raises naturally, a bad habit. Makes me look too much like Bruce. I try to be funny.
"Your pants, huh? Crazy night last night?" The questions come before I can stop myself. Idiot. His girlfriend just died. Idiot. I fight the urge to simply hang up. I grab an apple and pierce its skin. My teeth create a resounding crunch as I mangle the apple, hoping it'll act as a deterrent to keep me from further being a dick. Ha, very funny, Rich. I'm such an idiot.
"Crazy, indeed. I'm so lucky to be ambidextrous." I have a mental image of him touching himself, a soft moan upon his lips. My body gives a slight jerk. I shake my head. Christ, I really am going crazy.
"You sound good. it's been a while." I laugh at his joke. He really can be quite funny when he wants to be. "But we both know that can be deceiving. I don't suppose you'd want to-- never mind."
"Want to--?" He caught my previous statement. Damn it. I pace some more. I hear a zipping sound and assume he's putting on his pants. One leg at a time like all of us. Boy Wonder indeed. I think about the fibers making contact with the sparse hair on his legs. Shaving, yes. Damn it.
"It's nothing." My voice is small and unusual.
" Dick...I'm not even the world's greatest detective, and I can tell there's something heavy on your shoulders. And why you're afraid of my responses well, that's beyond me." God, he's afraid I don't like him. He's afraid. I hoped he didn't feel that emotion. I knew he did.
My voice is smooth and reassuring. "I'm not afraid of you, little brother. Never have been." I just want him to know he's not alone. Crazy false hopes spinning around in my mind. I wouldn't be the one to save him. I devour the apple with satisfaction.
"I haven't been out of the house all week." this is startlingly straight forward. We're playing a game, aren't we, little brother? I wanted him to ask me if I was busy. I wanted something from him. He wouldn't do that. I lost the game.
"Would you like to come over?" I took the plunge, I answered the question he was not able to ask. The static in my rug sent electricity to my fingertips and I shivered far too loudly.
"Yeah, only if you buy some pizza--I've been starving on this health food for far too long, I've already lost what was left of my natural bulk," I laughed. What bulk? The child was starving before he met Bruce and now he's starving with straining muscles and i see them from beneath his skin. I even see his knots, the shoulders that tense not only as he's about to jump from 20 stories. The kid really is amazing. My hands itch to knead them out.
"Alright boy wonder. Just this once. But no pepperoni." I smiled. I stretched and mentally counted my ribs. I needed to know each one was there, as though God would reach down in the middle of the night and steal one to make a woman for me. I wouldn't even stop him. That's my job though, isn't it? To stop the robbers and the thugs and the super villains. I suppose I would stop God after all.
"So, what time?" I mused to myself about how much this was sounding like dating back in high school.
"Anytime you want. I just have to shave and get myself all pretty for you." I teased. I froze, wondering how he'd take it. Laughter. I sighed with relief, though I knew it was partially forced on Tim's part.
"I'm going to go out on a limb and say Six Thirty." I nodded.
"That's fine. I'll see you then."
"Okay" came the monosyllabic reply. I hated ending phone conversations. Awkward pauses make me cringe. I still needed to shower. I must smell terribly. I heard him make a strange muffled sound, much resembling a groan, and then some uncomfortable shifting.
"Well, I don't want to keep you any longer, Tim. My door's always open to you. I'll be waiting." My voice was a bit lower and huskier than I'd intended. I ponder this as I hang up and immediately began to analyze the conversation. There are bags under my eyes as I look in the mirror. Do I really look this bad? The shirt slides over my head easily and I toss it aside, giving it a slight sniff before deeming it unfit. Boxers come next. Red satin. Babs would say they were kinky. Not that she would know. Barbara… we never had a chance to-I wish I could break my own legs and trade her. I know a few magicians that could help out (if I forced them), but she'd never agree. At least then her legs would work and I could be the one in the wheelchair. She would tell me I was being a martyr. I step into the scalding water and think what it'd be like if our positions were reversed. Would I be able to handle never walking again, never fighting again? My eyes widened with panic as they took in the thought of never being able to fly again, to plunge from a building straight at the concrete below and never give it a second thought. I picture Barbara up and walking and me in the chair. I picture her legs in a pencil skirt and groan. I'm embarrassed at my body's reactions as my flesh twitches, but my mind cannot help wandering to a dark place, the place I wouldn't talk about. The place where Barbara is riding me and all I have to do is sit back and moan. At least there are still advantages to the chair. I'm so sick. I splatter the shower walls with a small cry of frustration and disgust at myself and punch the wall. It doesn't even hurt.