The next day, Rachel came in and she was so excited. We spent half the day talking about mermaids with Mr. Jackson, who was very skeptical about it. However, he told her a made up story about the Sirens from the Greek mythology.
Rachel seemed to like that kind of stuff. The spooky stuff. I worried about it, honestly. She shouldn't be thinking about bad stuffs like that. Yet again, living in Gotham City with her father as a DEA agent, I couldn't disagree that she should know about the real world. Though, this much as such a young age?
What if soon she started to find out the sad stuff about the ocean, too? Coral bleaching? Shark finning? Dynamite fishing? Oil spill? The Bermuda triangle? Megatron dumped to the bottom of the ocean? Blobfish?
After a while, I had to leave the two because the owner, Marrie, of the nursing home just arrived. She heard about my unemployment and suggested me to apply for a job here. We still had to do all the stuff, so, I brought my CV and all. Also, I still had to do the interview.
Still, I had to wait for the result. Marrie said that if I got a call tomorrow night that I should go to work the next day, it meant that I got the job. If not, then, it didn't matter because I would still be coming here as a volunteer anyway every weekend. With hopefully getting paid rarely until I could get a job.
When I returned to Mr. Jackson's room, he and Rachel had left the balcony. Rachel was asleep on Mr. Jackson's bed with a book covering her face while the gentleman sat by his desk, coughing.
I went over to him and rubbed and tapped my hand on his back gently while my other hand was reaching for the glass of water. It took a while before he stopped.
My head turned to the wall clock. Seeing that it was an hour before lunch time, I reminded him to take his medicine. He came pretty cooperative today.
Usually, by this time, Mr. Jackson would go to the porch with a cigarette. I took it as a good sign when he didn't.
Came lunch time, I left to help deliver the food for a few room. When I returned to Mr. Jackson's room, the girl had already woke up and was kind of trying to comfort the old man, who had been coughing.
To that, I called a proper nurse to check in on Mr. Jackson. As the nurse checked on him, I brought Rachel out of the room. I realized that she shouldn't really get too attached to Mr. Jackson seeing what happened. He might not live anymore on her eighth birthday.
Fortunately, Marrie was about to get her and a guest, Dick Grayson, to pick up Rachel. We met in the middle of the hallway and she proceeded to see Mr. Jackson while she gave the guest to me.
"Is Mr. Jackson okay?" Rachel asked. "Is he going to be okay?"
No, he's not. The idea of me saying those words to her broke my heart.
"He is sick," I responded instead. "He is being treated."
"I don't see a doctor," Rachel shrugged.
Oh, Rachel...
"Don't worry," I forced myself to smile a little. "The nurse is a professional, too."
"So, he's going to be okay?" Rachel made sure.
I couldn't say yes. The old timer's going to die. I couldn't say no. The girl's going to cry. I felt so vulnerable right now that I glanced at Rachel's father, asking for help.
"Of course," Dick promised. "But, he's going to need a lot of rest, right, Rome?"
What have I done? What have I done?!
"That's true," I nodded.
"Okay," Rachel sighed.
***
I couldn't sleep that night and ended up staying up late by my balcony, drinking a mug of lame instant hot chocolate.
Getting myself repeatedly reminded that a kid would just pick up what adults gave them made me second guess myself a lot. It had always been like that of me to every kid I encountered, especially the ones in the day care.
Now, having a very beloved girl that every body knew of got influenced directly or indirectly by me, I just couldn't stop thinking of what would happen in case things went south.
I didn't know what time it was when someone flew by my balcony and hung by the railings for a second. It turned out to be Nightwing.
My first instinct was to back off in case he brought the danger with him, but, then, I saw the ends of his lips curved up.
"Hello, citizen," Nightwing greeted.
"Hello, vigilante?" I flatly greeted back.
"Whoo," Nightwing sighed as he climbed up and got himself in the balcony. "You don't mind if I stay here for a second, do you? I have several questions."
Oh, no. Please, nothing about my brother in law.
"Sure," I nodded. "Do you want anything? Coffee? Chocolate milk?"
"I'm good, thanks," Nightwing said.
Despite that, I handed over my mug. It took him a while, but, then, he carefully wrapped a hand around the mug, on my own hand. Nigthwing lowered himself down a little and tilted the mug for him to sip.
I chuckled lightly.
Cute.
"Thank you," Nightwing said before licking his upper lip.
"You're welcome," I said. "So, what is it that I can help you with?"
"Uh... are you sure you're okay to help me right now?" Nigthwing asked.
"Yeah, why?" I asked back.
"I don't know. It's just... you look upset," Nightwing shrugged. "Are you okay?"
That alone opened the floodgate of my tears.
"I just ruined someone's life," I weeped.
Nightwing lightly hissed as he approached me. I felt his hand rubbing my back as I tried to contain myself. I set my mug aside.
"You're not," Nightwing said.
"No, listen," I insisted before I blew my nose with the collar of my shirt. "I worked with kids. I taught kids everything they want to know. One time, this girl's just so curious about something that I tell her everything I know about it. Soon, I found out that it influenced her life so deep that she brought it to her family."
I took off my glasses and wiped my eyes. I didn't bother to out them back on.
"Then, I met her again. Coincidentally. In the nursing home where I, hopefully, work at by now. She talked with this man who's in line with her interest. Eventually, she said she wanted me to talk with her again about this matter, so, I suggested that we talk with this man, too. He's sick. He's dying. And I got her attached to him," I continued.
Sniffing once, I brushed my hair back.
"I can't tell her that. Somehow, I got her father promising her that he's going to be okay when he's actually about to die. Then, she's not going to trust her father again. Fuck, I didn't just ruin her, but, I ruined her relationship with her father, too," I finished.
All as my tears were streaming down and I kept wiping my eyes.
Nightwing was still trying to comfort me a little for a while before he moved and stood in front of me.
"Wow," Nightwing hummed while I put my glasses back on. "Do you really think that?"
"I do feel it like that," I sobbed. "I just... I just can't break a kid's heart. I don't have the heart to show them that the world is not as good as it seems to be. Now, knowing how influential I could be, I'm worried that I might do the same to my sister's babies."
"That's... heavy," Nightwing said after a while. "That's heavy that you even think that far."
"That's why you don't curse in front of a child. That's why you don't lie and I just made a man lie to his daughter," I scoffed to myself in disgust. "I should've been the one lying, at least that guaranteed that she won't have a rough time with her father in the future. Stupid."
"How's the kid?" Nightwing asked.
"She's smart. Very. Funny, just like her dad. She's just so pure," I answered.
"You keep saying her dad, but, what about her mom?" Nightwing brought up.
"All I know is that her mom died during childbirth and she didn't grow up with one," I shrugged.
"Maybe that's why you have the influence on her," Nightwing suggested. "She likes you. She's comfortable around you."
"That's even worse. The people I worked with spent more time with her. Why am I different?" I questioned, kind of pissed.
"Well, judging by what you just tell me, I'm willing to bet that none of the people you worked with really care about those kids. You, I can tell that you care. You're worried about them. About a stranger's kid," Nightwing chuckled on the last sentence. "The girl might be feeling that she's being treated like your own daughter. She trusts you. She believes everything you say. And as you said, she's very smart, she might be skeptical to what her dad said to her."
I paused for a bit, letting those words forming a sense. It did form a sense. It also made me feel better.
"I do care," I said. "Of them all. I'm getting attached to this girl and now I'm afraid that she's going to get attached to me."
"Why?" Nightwing asked.
"She's a goddamn aristocrat of this city," I chuckled dryly. "Everybody knows her. I'm a pebble whose family is involved in a crime we didn't even commit."
The word aristocrat had the same meaning as the word Wayne in this city. Had been like that since a long time ago.
"It doesn't matter," Nightwing spelled, sounded offended. "If she likes you, she likes you. At least she has a good figure to look up to."
"People will talk," I reminded.
"People always talk," Nightwing piled.
"I...," I sighed, "you're right."
"Right," Nightwing nodded. "Don't feel bad, alright? You're a great person."
"I hope so," I said.
"You are," Nightwing said, patting my cheek. "Now smile."
The way he said those words felt so amusing that I smiled right away.
"Thank you, Nightwing," I said.
"Not just yet," Nightwing said.
"What is it you need?" I asked.
"So, I believe you're related to Landon Dunn?" Nightwing asked.
Ah, yeah, here we stood.
"He's my brother in law and if you're looking for him, you're too late. He's in jail," I answered.
"I know that. That's why I'm here," Nightwing cockily said. "To get the culprit."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"He snitched that his neighbor has an affiliation with Falcone. He's the one getting arrested instead," Nightwing answered.
"Oh, dang," I commented.