Night Is Gotham

“Evelyn” I heard someone calling my name, softly and quietly. I was still half asleep but I could feel someone’s presence in my room. I opened my eyes slightly, seeing just an outline of a person standing at my door. I bolted upright realizing it my father.
“I just wanted to say that I was leaving, be safe and have a good day” he said and left my room closing the door behind him. I sat up slowly and rested my arms on my legs. I was groggy to say the least and still had a pounding headache. I stood up and winced as my ribs reminded me of just how bad last night was. I walked out into the hallway and to the bathroom, taking a fair amount of time and leaning up against the wall a couple times.

Looking at myself in the mirror was a rude awakening. I had bit of dried blood on the corner of the head, not really sure when I started bleeding. I had a bruise on my jaw line probably from hitting the stairs. I didn’t even want to look at my torso those would be nasty bruises. I opened the mirror and grabbed some ibuprofen and filled a paper cup with some water. It hurt to swallow even the two tiniest pills. I grabbed a wash cloth and washed my forehead, gently scrubbing the dried blood off. I decided to make some tea and try to fall back asleep, although I knew walking down stairs would be a challenge.

I slowly made my way down the stairs and to the kitchen. I remember back when I was younger Alfred always used to have hot chocolate waiting for me on the weekends. I missed him; things hadn’t been the same after he died. I grabbed a cup out of the cabinet and placed it on the counter, grabbing a tea bag from the box on the windowsill. I turned on the stove and placed a kettle of water over the burner and walked to the TV to wait for the water to boil. As I sat down and grabbed the remote the phone rang. I got back up, wincing as my ribs throbbed as I pushed myself off the couch.
“Hello, Wayne residence” I answered.
“Evelyn, we talked about letting the phone go to voicemail when I’m not home” my father said sternly. I felt my body go cold as I realized I had made another mistake, two in one week. I toyed with the idea of hiding before he came home tonight.
“It doesn’t matter, I’m going to have Mark come for dinner tonight. I want you to clean the house and make something for dinner,” he demanded. His deep voice was rattling and I remember how old he was getting.
“Would you like anything in particular for dinner,” I asked, sounding as nice and innocent as possible. I didn’t want him to take anything I said as sarcasm.
“Pasta sounds good” was all he said. The phone clicked and the conversation was over.

I put down the phone and tried to process what we had just talked about. Bruce never, ever, I mean ever, had people over. Not since my mother had died, and even when she was alive it was like pulling teeth to get him to agree to guests. I understood that this was Mark, someone he was going to give everything to, but it seemed odd that he would have someone over. I mean he’d been working with some people for years and years and I’d never even seen them. Mark was the only person that had ever come to the house and whom I even knew outside of this house. I didn’t mind Mark coming over, it meant that someone else would be here while my father and I were home, and that made me feel safe.

I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a cookbook from the drawer. I hadn’t made dinner in quite sometime, not since my mother had passed anyway.
“Pasta” I said to myself as I flipped through the pages of the cookbook.

My mom’s favorite food was pasta.