-Martha-
It was a shameful thing to shout at the table.
One of us children would do it on a rare occasion, only to be sent to bed early. This time it was my father who would shout. It happened while I was secretly sipping a small cup of coffee I had stolen from the kitchen. It was a Monday morning, a new start to a busy week.
My father and I were the only ones at the table, which wasn't a rare event. I liked to get the first read of the paper, after my father of course. As I looked down to take another sip of my coffee, a scream came from across the table. My head switched up to see the Butler had spilled espresso on my father.
"God Dammit!" The coffee had spilled on his new suit, "I'm s-so fed up with these servants Serena!" He had gotten up shewing angrily for the butler to leave the table and called for my mother.
"Bruce Dear, what have you done?" My Mother scurried into the dining room, confused of all the fuss.
"I have done nothing! That's the thing!." He began to run his napkin across his dress shirt, only to make the stain worse.
"Bruce, you can't blame the poor man, just your glare can scare a man half to death." She scolded my father while taking a seat next to him at the table.
"I'm sick of it! I'm telling you Serena!If Alfred were here, I would still only need one or two suits!" He left the dinning room, still stressing over his none saveable shirt.
I have very few memories of the butler, Alfred Pennyworth. From what my brothers tell me was that he wasn't there for long after I was born. They said that he still managed to stay up with me throughout most late nights, and hold me when my parents needed a break. What a kind man he was, I only wish I would have fully met him.
"Oh Bruce, don't be a baby about it and go change!" She announced, "You may come back now Simon!" The Butler came back into the room, pouring my mother a cup of coffee.
"What is that?" She asked, referring to my mug, "You're too young to drink coffee Martha."
I roll my eyes, "The rest of you get to." I take another sip, oh how I love this bitter liquid.
"The rest of us aren't as young as you!" She reached for my cup and brought it to her, "More for me." She grinned.
"Mother." Thomas came into the dinning room, kissing my mother on the cheek, "Martha." His voice got lower as he said my name, I hate siblings. He wasn't even dressed, he still had pyjamas on and a robe. What a lunatic, and he's the one who's left to run our company.
"What was all the yelling about." He asked, sitting down and stuffing a great deal of scrambled eggs into his mouth.
"Your Father." She said, with much care, as she put some jam on her toast.
"Who was yelling?" Arthur entered the room, followed by Andrew. Both still half asleep, probably from a night of partying.
"Well don't you two look splendid." My Mother comments, looking furious, "You two best smarten up before your father gets here."
"Sorry Mum." Andrew says, while rubbing his temple, eyes still a little bloodshot, "Yeah sorry." Arthur agrees.
Three out of four Wayne brothers had made it to the table. The question was, where is the fourth?
"Where's Micheal?" My Father had sat down at the table, without anyone's knowledge. Which was a regular event.
"My guess is he'll be along shortly." He's my next door neighbour of sorts. His room is next to mine. Which is not something I enjoy at all.
The stumble of feet down the stairs causes everyone to look up from their breakfast. A girl, in nothing more than a dress and heals practically falls down the main stair case.
A few chuckles emerge from the table.
"Are you alright miss?" My Father asks, looking un impressed. My Mother just ignores her completely.
"Oh, Mr. Wayne! Yes I am." Her voices shakes, most likely thinking there was nobody else in the house. I recognize her from school, nice girl.
She stands in shock for a moment, embarrassed out of her mind, "I'll be going now."
"Yes, please." Mother interrupts quickly, not wanting any scandals like the last time one of my brothers brought a girl home.
She exits quickly as my brother lugs down the stairs, "Morning."
"Yes, morning indeed." Thomas chuckles from his seat. I giggle into my newspaper.
"Now that everyone has arrived, I have news for everyone." My father takes a sip of espresso.
"Ooo, another trip to Europe Father?" Andrew pipes up, seeming a little over excited. I quickly remember Europe's legal drinking age.
"No." Andrews sighs, "We are all attending the Mayor's birthday party and charity. The entire family is of age to go to such an event, and we are all expected to go."
"Bruce, why haven't you told me sooner!" My mother scowls, her fist hitting the table, "That is in 3 days, and Martha and I haven't gotten dresses!"
"I highly doubt I will be wearing a dress..."I mumble into a bit of toast. My mother hears my comment, although she is many seats away.
"Martha Wayne! You will wear a dress to a gala, you are a young lady! How do you expect us to find anyone suitable for you!" She falls back into her chair. The boys have begun to laugh, their sister...a lady?
"Your mother...is right Martha." I plea into my fathers eyes, unsure if he really said that, " You are a young woman now, you should act like it." I feel defeated, if anyone knew my desperation it was him.
"Yes Father."
"I will have to call the seamstress right away!I will have to pay her double!" My mother sits up from the table, unexcused. Her heals leave a clacking noise on her way to the study.
I do dread a ball. Even if he will be there.
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Word Count: 1041
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A Wayne
FanfictionYou see my family, despite their best efforts has always lived; and shall live in the dark, and there is no sense hiding from it. even now, as the daughter of Gotham. (mature content)
