Her Coffee Hearts and Angel Wings

Chapter 4

    The man sitting across the desk from me is certainly not Bruce Wayne. He’s probably about five to seven years older than me but has the goofy, smiling face of a little kid. 

    “Uh, excuse me,” I say, exasperated. “I really needed to talk to Mr. Wayne, not one of his butlers.” The man’s smile grows. 

    “I’m not one of his butlers,” he says. “And he’s sorry he couldn’t make it.”
    I’m sure he is, I think to myself sarcastically, but run a hand through my curls and sigh.

    “Okay. Look, this is pretty serious. If you could send Mr. Wayne back any day he could possibly come, I’d appreciate it. I really need to talk to him about Damian.” 

    “I’d be happy to relay a message,” said the man leaning in, his face suddenly serious. “I take care of Dami too. So anything you have to say to Bruce, I want to hear as well.” I struggle to keep my lips straight when I hear Damian’s nickname.

    “Uh,” I hesitate. “It’s just, this is kind of a delicate matter. Who are you in relation to Damian?”
    “I’m his older brother,” the man responded, holding out a hand. “Dick Grayson. But over the years, I like to think I’m kind of like a father figure to Damian. What seems to be the problem?”

    “Nice to meet you, Dick, I’m Gabriella. As for what the problem is-- I’m not sure where to start.” Dick laughs like he was expecting this and shakes his head ruefully.

    “Damian’s always had behavioral problems, if that’s what you mean.”

    “That’s certainly part of it. He acts out in class. He’s rude to his classmates and to me. Earlier, he suggested that I spend my nights seducing men to substitute my income-- of course, in a few more words. That’s another part of the problem, his language. Did you know he uses words like harlot and whore to describe adults and his female classmates?” 

    Dick Grayson has the grace to look embarrassed.   

    “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s certainly a problem. I’m really sorry he said that to you-- that’s completely out of line. I’ll have to talk to him about that.” 

    “It’s not so much the personal insults, Dick,” I say earnestly. “I’m a teacher, working with kids is my job. It’s the fact that he finds words like that suitable for everyday use, when I’ve repeatedly told him that they’re inappropriate. Is there-- I mean, do you-- is there a reason why he speaks like that?” Understanding and offense are splayed out over Dick’s face.

    “I don’t use vocabulary like that, and neither does our father. Damian-- well, I’m sure you’ve read about it in the newspaper.” He says heatedly. I throw my hands up, embarrassed.

    “I don’t read about your family in the newspaper. That’s vulgar and-- and uncouth. And I wasn’t trying to accuse you or your father of anything. I just want to get to the root of the problem so that I can help Damian.”

    Dick’s face relaxes. 

    “Sorry for jumping to conclusions. I know how it must look-- like his behavior is on us. And I guess it kind of is.” 

    “Not necessarily.” After a brief moment of uncomfortable silence, I soldier on. “It’s not just his attitude that I worry about.” I open my desk and pull out Damian’s essay, handing it to Dick. I watch his eyes scan the first few words and he draws a hand across his face, cheeks tinged pink.   

    “Again, I’m sorry about his vocabulary. Obviously he needs yet another lesson in respect and women.” 

    “No-- well, yes, but that’s not the point. He’s obviously struggling with his school work. He hardly ever turns anything in on time, and half the time he writes about something completely irrelevant. And it’s always poor quality. He’s having serious problems keeping up with the rest of the class.” Dick’s eyebrows are pulled together in a worried line. 

    “That’s not like Damian. He’s very bright.” Then his eyes drop back to the essay as his eyes pass back and forward across the paper. Then, he smiles. “He wrote about Batman!” 

    “...right. And the prompt was Halee Trent.” 

    “He wrote about Batman!” Dick waves the essay in the air, a huge grin on his face. I stare at the older man, unaware as to his point.   

    “Dick, I had to give him a zero for that essay. He didn’t write about what I told him to write about, and when I offered him a chance to make it up, he refused. He said he wouldn’t be able to finish it by the next day.”

    “You don’t understand. Damian’s really smart. There has to be a reason for--”

    “Look, Dick… Just because Damian may be smart in other ways doesn’t mean that he’s strong academically. Everything I’ve seen of Damian’s just shows that he really needs extra help. Some kids are just developmentally behind. It’s not your fault, or your father’s. It’s just their learning curve. And--”
    “Damian’s not dumb.” Dick’s face is hard, and I feel sick. I’ve offended the man again. Is everybody from Damian’s family so easily offended? 

    “I never said he was dumb.” I say patiently.

    “You implied that he wasn’t smart. Look, I have to go. I’ll tell him to put more effort into his work. Just try to be supportive, yeah?” 

    And then he gets up and leaves, face still stony. I fall back into my chair, yet again, and blow out an angry sigh. Life has signed me up for a cruel game-- How many Waynes can you infuriate in a day? At least Dick didn’t call me a prostitute. That’s got to be an improvement. 

    I glance down at my desk, reaching for Damian’s essay to replace with his other files.

    But it’s gone. Dick’s taken it with him. I throw up my hands and kick the leg of my desk. I’ve had enough Waynes to last a lifetime.
    Unfortunately, life had other plans for me. It usually does.