Student Teacher

Chapter 3

Alfred brought the usual tray of food and tea down to the cave. Batman was finished for the evening and would want his expected snack any moment. Sure enough, there he was, staring intently at the computer monitor.

“How did Back to School Night go?”

“Very well, sir.” He placed the dishes beside Master Bruce, as he was now that his cowl was off. “The young master’s teachers were extraordinarily effusive in their praise. His History teacher was particularly kind in her comments. Is seems that we are not the only ones who see how brightly his light shines.”

Bruce allowed himself a small smile. “That’s good to hear.” He took a bite of turkey sandwich. “Is he home yet?”

“I received a call from him not five minutes ago. He wanted us to know that he’s finished his rehearsal and will be here within the half hour.”

Bruce nodded. “I was thinking, do you think he’d like us to see one of his shows this weekend?”

“I suspect he would be both pleased and proud that you would think to go, sir, yes indeed.”

“Good. Let’s plan on Saturday night, shall we? We’ll use the Wayne Corp skybox.”

That weekend Ringling Brothers Circus was playing what was known in the trade as a six-pack—three performances Saturday and another three on Sunday, two matinees (eleven in the morning and again at two in the afternoon) and an evening performance at seven-thirty. It made for a long two days but was easier than a nine-pack when Friday was added in as well.

Saturday evening Bruce and Alfred were in the skybox by seven-fifteen, ready for the entertainment. Bruce had wanted to call the box office to find out when the Flying Tosinis’ act would begin, but Alfred gave him a raised eyebrow that carried enough weight to make him change his mind and sit through the entire show. Walking in they passed the posters and large banners trumpeting the different performers the crowd could look forward to and took parental pride in the add-on; “The world renown Flying Torsini’s, death defying aerialists with special guest artist, The Flying Grayson!”

The lights dimmed, the music started and the performer’s parade began; clowns, acrobats, motorcyclists, equestrians, show girls on the ropes, horses, camels, elephants and dogs circled the arena in bright, bejeweled costumes. The huge venue was close to a sell-out, children loving it and their parents loving that their kids were having a good time.

The show proper started, Bruce bent to the occasion by having the stewards bring him a couple of corndogs, funnel-cakes and popcorn, all of which he shared with Alfred despite the dubious looks. The wine was from his private supply and was an outstanding vintage from the Loire which seemed to relax Alfred considerably.

“But he hasn’t performed in years, sir; what if he misjudges—he could be injured and…”

“He won’t fall, Alfred. You know Dick; he never falls.”

“Of course, but he’s not used to working with these friends of his and if anyone’s timing is off by so much as a second…”

“Alfred, he’ll be fine.”

And hour and a half into the show the trapeze act was introduced; “Ladies and gentlemen and children of all ages. I direct your attention to the center ring. Barnum and Bailey and Ringling Brother’s circus takes great pride in presenting for your entertainment and edification the greatest, most death-defying aerialists in the known world, The Flying Torsini’s”. The members of the troop made their entrance, spangled and rhinestoned capes covering their costumes which were removed with flair as the Torsini’s climbed the ropes to the platforms thirty feet above the sawdust. They did their warm-ups, made a few passes, turned a few sommies and switches and gave a nice enough performance. Then it was time for the highlight of the night.

“We would now like to introduce a very special guest artist that the Barnum and Bailey and Ringling Brother’s family is proud top welcome this evening, Richard Grayson. The last performing member of the world renown Flying Graysons and the only human being capable of turning the world’s most dangerous flying move—the quadruple somersault. To make this extraordinary feat even more dangerous, he will perform without a net!”

Dick made his own entrance in a followspot, borrowed lame costume cape shimmering in the bright light. He nodded to the crowd to acknowledge the ovation, handed off the cape to a stagehand and smiled at the wolf-whistles. In body-hugging spandex, he climbed the rope to the small platform, as at home as if he were in his own bedroom. He took the bar, had a few warm-up swings and passes, landed lightly and nodded to Mario across the way, waiting on the opposite platform. The roustabouts let the safety net fall, the clank and thud adding to the drama.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we request complete silence, if you please.”

A drum roll started as Dick and Mario started their swings, gaining height and speed. Suddenly Dick let go of the bar, tucked into ball and spun, rotating too fast to count, straightened out and slapped his hands against Mario’s forearms as the two flyers locked in the traditional and iron grip. Dick’s feet touched the small platform as he landed safely to loud applause, waved to the audience with his trademark smile in place as the Torsini’s climbed down. When they were halfway down, the roustabouts had replaced the safety net, Dick grabbed the bar again, swung a couple of times, leaned backwards into two layouts and landed dead center on the net, bouncing up to his feet as if he were on a trampoline, laughing the whole time. Hopping to the edge, he rolled off and landed lightly on the ground, waving again to the crowd as Mario and the rest of the Torsini’s surrounded him, hugging him and escorting him into the backstage area. They were old friends, Dick was part of the club and they were thrilled to have him with them, even if it was only for a few days.

Up in the skybox Bruce and Alfred were as impressed and proud as expected. “Come on, let’s go downstairs and let him know we were here, okay?”

Alfred didn’t need any prompting, he would have settled for nothing less.

Meanwhile, Dick changed into his street clothes, happy that he still had another day of shows and too wound up to even begin to think about sleep. Maybe Bruce wanted a late patrol? Maybe the Titians were around?

“Dick? You were wonderful!”

He turned. A little startled to see Miss Posner standing there. How the hell had she even gotten into the dressing areas? You were supposed to have a pass to get through to the backstage. “You saw that?” Like, duh, Grayson flashed through his mind.

She smiled at him, “I told you I had tickets, remember?” He nodded, flattered but a little taken aback. “Since this was the last show of the night, I was hoping you’d do me a favor and keep me company for dinner. Maybe?”

He hadn’t eaten—he never ate anything before a performance and he was getting pretty hungry but she was a teacher and…

She saw what was going through his mind. “C’mon, I won’t tell anyone; my treat and you can even pick the place.”

Well hell, he’d worked vice since he was like eleven so it wasn’t like he was a babe in the woods and he had to eat, right? “Sure, okay, thanks—sounds good.”

“C’mon, my car’s just around the corner.”

Four minutes later Bruce and Alfred walked into the dressing area, looking for the young master, hoping to take him home for a celebratory dinner they wanted to surprise him with. “Mario, is Dick still changing?”

“Nah, he left with some hot number a couple of minutes ago—lucky kid.”

 

* * *
 

They ended up in a small diner on the edge of Brixton, a local hangout and old time favorite that still had small jukeboxes on each table.

“You really were impressive tonight Dick. Do you get many chances to do that—what do you call it? Flying? Do you do that much?”

“No, not since my parents died. The Torsini’s are old friends, we used to live close to one another down in Venice during the winter.”

“Venice?”

“Florida, on the Gulf Coast. A lot of circus people winter there during the off season and the Circus Museum is just over in Sarasota on John Ringling’s old estate. We all helped to open one of the exhibits a few years ago when I was a kid.” He blushed a little, realizing what he’d just said. “I mean when I was younger.”

She smiled as he waitress handed them their sodas and asked if they were ready to order. “I’ll have a garden salad, light Italian dressing on the side. Dick?”

“A bacon cheeseburger with a side of fries, well done, please.” The waitress nodded and left.

Carolyn reached across the table and lifted his hand, turning it over and running her fingers over the calluses, looking at the chalk ground into his skin and the marks left by the wrist taping and braces. “That must hurt.”

“Not any more. It used to but now it doesn’t; when I was little they used to bleed from hanging on the bars during the rehearsals and then the performances.” He paused a moment. “It upset my mother when I’d cry about the pain so I stopped.”

“You stopped performing?”

“I stopped crying.”

She tilted her face down so he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes; she’d realized that he was remarkable, but to hide pain like that when he was just a baby so his mother wouldn’t be upset? “How old were you then?”

“I don’t know, maybe four or five, I guess.”

Remarkable. “I don’t want to pry, but…”

He laughed at that and she thought again how incredibly good-looking he was and how cheerful, despite what he’d been through. “That’s when people ask something really personal.”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

“Go ahead, I just may not answer.”

“It must have been difficult for you; moving into Wayne Manor after living a different kind of life.” The waitress arrived at that moment with their food, placing it in front of them as Dick thanked the woman, but it served as a brief pause for him to choose his words.

“It was at first, sure, but Bruce and Alfred did a lot to help me adjust. I think the hardest part was getting used to going to school—my mom home schooled me up till then and it was hard for me to get used to sitting all day, I still have trouble with that.”

He amazed her. “But it must have been hard to get used to living, well—living a different lifestyle.”

“You mean because we used to be pretty poor—well, okay, living paycheck to paycheck and then bunking at the manor, right?” She nodded. “It’s been harder getting used to all the rumors about us. I mean they’re all crap, but it’s just weird, y’know?” She nodded again; everyone knew the rumors and had heard the slander about the two of them, Wayne and his boy-toy. “And it’s strange not making my own money; I get it from Bruce now, but I’d been getting a paycheck from the time I was like three and a half and it’s weird—I guess…” He stopped, perhaps wondering if he should go on. “I don’t like being dependent, and I know I can never pay him back—not just the money; I mean everything he’s done for me, all the stuff he’s shown me and taught me that I never would have seen if it wasn’t for him.”

She was picking at her salad while he was ignoring his own food. “Is that why you work so hard in school?”

“Yeah, I don’t want to disappoint him.” He ate a couple of fries. “I was kind of hoping that he might come to the show tonight, but I know he’s busy.” He took a drink of his coke. “Maybe he’ll come tomorrow.”

The poor thing had so much on his shoulders. “I’m sure he will.”

Dick seemed to make a conscious effort to shift gears. “God, I’m sorry, I don’t usually dump on people like that.”

“You can talk to me any time you want. I want you to know that I’m always here for you.” She smiled at him, offering reassurance as he nodded his thanks.

An hour later Carolyn drove up to the front door of Wayne Manor, the front lights on for him. “Thank you, Miss Posner. You’ve been really nice tonight and, well, thank you.”

He was about to get out of the car when, “Dick?”

He looked back to her to see what she wanted but she took his bicep and gently but firmly pulled him back lightly, kissing him on the cheek and squeezing his arm. “Thank you, Dick. I’ll see you in class on Monday.”

TBC
 

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